He was in a different office today—one that had been empty since Judge Remus retired six years ago. The cops had told him his office was still off-limits.
This office would work, for now.
He pulled open the desk drawer. A gun waited inside. As a judge, he didn’t exactly spend a whole lot of time getting patted down. It had been too easy to get the weapon in the courthouse.
He tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants. He’d already hit the bank and withdrawn a nice chunk of cash. He hadn’t run after getting the cash. Instead, he’d gone to court.
He’d thought he could try and wait things out. Use the cash only if he got really desperate.
I am desperate. With every moment that passed, the fear grew stronger. He wasn’t ready to die.
He wouldn’t be the Bayou Butcher’s next target.
After tossing his robe, Pierce hurried down the hallway. He took the elevator, an empty ride that coasted quickly down to the parking garage. He was avoiding the cops who were supposed to watch him, slipping right past their guard. If they saw him, they would stop him.
No one was stopping him. He was getting out of town before the Butcher came after him.
When the cops had the killer, then he’d return. Until then, Mexico was looking pretty fucking nice.
Screw any pending cases. Screw the bitch of a wife at home. Screw all of it.
Life was what mattered. He wasn’t ready to give his up.
The elevator doors opened, and he hurried into the parking garage.
Footsteps shuffled to the right, and he froze. “Is someone there?”
Silence.
I’m not going to die.
He hurried his pace.
The footsteps shuffled once more.
I’m not going to—
“The original profile for the Bayou Butcher missed a few key elements.” Cadence stood in the front of the conference room. The room was filled with cops, marshals, and even the ME. The homicide captain sat in the back corner, his arms crossed over his chest.
Anthony also stood in the back, near Lauren. She’d taken a seat in the last row, and he kept close to her. She seemed too fragile. Every time he glimpsed the cut on her cheek, he wanted to empty his weapon into Walker’s heart.
“I don’t believe Jon Walker was working alone when he committed his crimes.”
The silence in the room was thick and heavy.
“When Walker held DA Chandler, he said he watched the murder of the DA’s sister years before.”
Several heads turned toward Lauren. Her shoulders tensed.
“Jennifer Chandler died twenty years ago,” Cadence continued. Her partner stood by her side, his eyes on her. “If Walker was there at the time of her death, he would have been only sixteen years old.”
So young.
“By his own words, Walker watched Jennifer die, so that means someone else—”
“Pardon me, ma’am,” Paul said as he rose to his feet. “Maybe the guy just fuckin’ slipped up when he was talking. Maybe he killed her and then stood back and watched her die.” He shook his head. “With respect, I worked those Bayou Butcher cases five years ago. There was never a sign anyone else killed those women.”
“Not those women, no,” she agreed.
Anthony noticed Kyle had tensed when the detective rose.
“I believe those kills were all his. I also believe someone else might have witnessed them. Just as Walker witnessed Jennifer’s death.”
Lauren must be hating having her sister’s death mentioned again and again…Anthony wanted to reach out to her. Pull her into his arms. But she’d never wanted their involvement seen by others.
Screw what she wanted. I can’t let her hurt.
He stepped closer to her and put his hand on her shoulder.
She glanced back at him.
“You okay?” he whispered.
Her lips were pressed together, as if she was trying to hide the tremble. She gave a quick nod.
“One watched, one killed. I believe that is the way they’ve been working for years. Walker did kill seven women, the women he was convicted of five years ago. But I also believe there are more victims out there—more bodies—victims who were the prey of his partner.”
There wasn’t silence in the packed room anymore. There was shock. Paul slowly slid back into his seat.
“A team?” a uniformed cop asked. “I thought those crazy guys killed on their own.”
“It’s believed that sociopaths have a hard time forming attachments, so sociopathic serial killers do often kill on their own.” Cadence paused. “Serial killing pairs aren’t common, but they do happen.”
“All sociopaths aren’t serial killers,” Kyle said as he raised a brow and studied the group. “And all serial killers aren’t sociopaths. Serial killers strike for dozens of damn reasons.”
Yes, they did. Anthony had worked on enough cases to realize that. Sometimes, there was no understanding their savagery.
Kyle stepped forward, fully facing the group. “Some serial killing teams are couples. Husband-and-wife teams. One member of the team will act as bait—usually the wife. She goes out and draws the prey in. Then she might stand back and watch as the husband rapes and murders his victims.”
“That was the case with Jonas and Candy Kramer,” Cadence said, her face somber. “Their plan was to get a group of sex slaves. Candy would approach the victims, get them to come into the van, and…” She shook her head. “Well, the idea was that their slaves would be disposable, so those poor girls didn’t survive long.”
Fuck. Anthony remembered that case. It still turned his stomach.
“Are we looking for a couple here?” Matt asked as he tilted his head. The marshal had met Anthony at the precinct door, his frustration with the swamp search clear in the hard lines on his face. Jim was out there, still searching. They weren’t giving up. Marshals never did.
Cadence shook her head. “I don’t believe we’re looking at a man and a woman. From what I can gather, Stacy was the only long-term girlfriend in Walker’s life. She was trying to get away from him, not help him.”
“So he killed her,” Kyle finished.
“It’s not a romantic pairing,” Cadence continued as her gaze slid around the room. “I think it’s an alpha pairing.”
From the back of the room, Anthony saw Paul tilt his head in confusion. “What’s an alpha pairing?”
“When they began the killings, I believe Walker and his partner were both teens. The partner would have been a few years older. At the time, he was the dominant one, no doubt the one to push for the murder in the first place. He killed, and Walker watched.”
Lauren’s fingers had clenched in her lap.
“Over time, I believe Walker came into his own. He grew confident at the kill scenes, he wanted to kill. So he started his own crimes. Both men continued killing—one would kill, one would watch. Again and again.”
“She makes it sound like a competition,” the ME muttered a few feet from Anthony.
Cadence’s head jerked up. It seemed she had some damn strong hearing. “In a way, Dr. Wright, that’s exactly what it became. Walker’s killings became more brutal over time. Not just because of an escalation, but because he had someone to impress.”
This was a fucking mess.
“He stopped killing just in remote locations. He went right into the house of the Peterson family. He was taking risks because the bigger the risk, the bigger the reward.”
Murder was a reward in Walker’s sick world.
“Walker started as the submissive part of the team. He watched, he might have even lured in the prey. He didn’t kill. All that changed with the death of coed Beth Loxley. He was competing with his partner then, not just standing back and watching. After that, with each of his kills, Walker stepped closer to being an alpha in his own right. Not just one strong killer, but two.” Her gaze darted to the board behind her that showed all the faces of Walker’s victims. “They’re an al
pha team, and that is the most dangerous serial killing team I know.”
She went to the board and flipped it over.
More photographs stared back. Missing persons reports. Anthony counted at least nineteen of them. “What the hell is that?” he demanded, raising his voice over the cops’ murmurs as they absorbed all of the pictures. Too many pictures. Lauren remained silent in front of him.
“These are women who’ve gone missing in surrounding counties. Some of them are believed to be runaways, but the others…the others are presumed dead.” Cadence paused as she waited for the noise to quiet. “I actually think they’re all dead.”
Shit.
Agent McKenzie’s hands had clenched into fists.
Cadence walked toward the first picture. “Walker’s partner was smart. He knew if he killed in different counties, it would be harder for the police to make connections between the crimes, especially when people didn’t even realize that crimes were happening.”
There were so many photographs. Nineteen of them.
Matt maneuvered close to Anthony. “Is this for real? You think Cadence is right on this?”
“Cadence doesn’t bullshit.”
Lauren flinched beneath his hand.
“How the hell do you know those are his victims?” Paul was back on his feet. The guy seemed to have real trouble staying in his chair. “Look, ma’am, we’re not some dumbass cops down here, okay? If we had another serial working here all this time—”
“I told you, the killer was smart. He crossed county lines, so there was no reason for the authorities to connect the dots on these cases.” Her fingers were touching the first picture. “Especially since he kept varying the age of his victim.”
She was staring at the first photo. “Denise Reed, age seventeen.”
Denise stared back at them. A young girl with dark hair and wide eyes.
Cadence touched the second picture. “Sally Samwell, age eighteen.” Another girl with a big smile and a dark tumble of hair.
“Rachel Penelope, age nineteen.” Her fingers skimmed over the girl’s dark hair.
“Georgia Trace, age twenty.”
The next photo. “Jamie Snowden, age twenty-one…”
“He’s going up a year, every time…” Kyle said, his voice too loud in the quiet room as the cops all made the same connection. “The girls look the same, same hair—”
“And they have the same blue eyes,” Cadence said as she glanced around the room. “This killer, I believe—in his mind—was killing the same girl again and again.”
Her hand slid over the other photos until she came to a photo that had been circled in red. “I believe he was killing Jennifer Chandler, over and over. The age went up, as Jennifer would have aged if she’d still been alive. That kill—it was necessary to him. He’s been doing it every single year since Jenny died.”
Fuck.
It was Lauren’s turn to rise to her feet. “My sister…”
All eyes turned to her.
“So many women…” Pain whispered through her voice.
“Since I believe Jenny was the first victim, I think she had a personal connection to the killer. They were friends, maybe they dated, maybe she rebuffed him. She knew him.” Sympathy flashed across Cadence’s face, but the determination in her gaze didn’t falter. “That means you might know him, too. If we can just find him, we can also find Walker.”
“We can take them both out,” Kyle added.
“That means we need to see every witness from the original Bayou Butcher case, we need to go over every file…” Cadence lifted her chin. Her delicate jaw hardened. “We will be looking for a male, in his midthirties, highly intelligent, attractive—”
“He’s good-looking?” one of the uniforms muttered, a little too loudly. “How do you know that?”
“Because all signs are that his prey willingly came to him. If there were indications of a struggle, we would have noticed them at the scenes. Even when Jenny Chandler’s car was found”—Cadence’s gaze darted to Lauren—“the appearance is that she willingly drove out to meet the perpetrator. An attractive man would have a much easier time luring his victims.”
Lauren backed away from her seat and moved to stand beside Anthony.
“Jon Walker is also attractive—he used the same luring technique with many of his victims. It’s a technique I believe he learned from his partner.”
Anthony slanted a fast glance at Lauren. Her body was stiff, and she looked so pale. “Are you okay?” he murmured.
“I don’t think I’ll be okay for a very long time,” she whispered. “All of those women. He took them all.”
“I’ll be adding to the second killer’s profile soon. When I do, I’ll give an update to all the officers working this case.” Cadence reached for files on the table near her. “These men are extremely dangerous. Now that they are back together again, they will keep killing. They won’t stop until we stop them.”
The meeting ended after that. The cops filed out, Cadence and Kyle huddled over their files, and Lauren—
Her fingers wrapped around Anthony’s arm. “I need to get out of here.”
He knew desperation when he heard it.
“Please, take me away from here.”
Anthony nodded and immediately steered her toward the door. They pushed through the bull pen, heading fast for the exit.
“DA Chandler!”
It was Kyle McKenzie. The guy was rushing after them, his gaze on Lauren.
Beside Anthony, Lauren stiffened.
Anthony’s jaw locked. “She’s had enough for today, got it? I’m taking her out of here so—”
“I know how you feel, Lauren.”
Lauren. Not DA Chandler.
The guy’s voice held way too much intensity.
Not just intensity, Anthony realized as he studied the agent with a critical eye. Pain.
Slowly, Lauren turned to face the agent. “I don’t think you do.”
Kyle nodded. “Fifteen years ago, my sister vanished.”
Lauren trembled, then she held herself still. Far too still.
Anthony stood close to them. Kyle’s voice was low as he said, “There’s not a single night that passes for me—not a single one—when I don’t wonder where she is. When I don’t wonder what happened to her.” His gaze hardened. “And when I don’t want to make the bastard who took her pay.” Fury flashed in his eyes, battling with the echo of pain.
“I’m sorry.” Lauren’s voice was whisper soft. “I didn’t know.”
“I’ve never been able to bring my sister home. I never got any justice for her.” He inclined his head toward Lauren. “But I’ll do my damnedest to see that you get justice for Jenny.”
A tear tracked down Lauren’s cheek.
Anthony pulled her closer to him.
Kyle’s gaze rose to his face. “You take good care of her.”
Always.
“And we will stop that SOB out there.”
Yes, they would.
As they hurried from the station, Anthony realized if Lauren asked, he’d do any damn thing she wanted. Even kill—in an instant—if that helped to ease the pain that seemed to break her apart.
CHAPTER TEN
The second the hotel room door closed behind Anthony, Lauren turned and wrapped her arms around him. She was desperate. She needed him. Needed the way he could make her feel. Only him.
“Lauren, why—”
She rose onto her toes. Her mouth pressed against his.
His hands came around her and he tried to gently push her back.
She wasn’t in the mood for gentle.
Jenny’s killer. All of those women…all of them…
“Baby, you’re hurt,” he growled the words as he eased away from her. “I can’t—”
“I can. The doctor said I’m fine.” Mostly true, but right then, she didn’t care about some aches and pains. Lauren felt as if she were breaking apart on the inside. On the outside, her skin was chilled. An
ice that threatened to consume her.
She needed Anthony. Needed the wild rush of pleasure he’d always been able to give her.
She had to forget everything, in order to be able to live without breaking. “I need you.”
His gaze darkened. “Baby, you know I’m always desperate for you.” Then he was kissing her, but not with the fierce intensity she wanted. He was trying to be careful.
Fuck careful.
Her hand rose between them. She unbuttoned her shirt. Let the soft silk part so he could see the edge of her bra. He might think he was going to take it easy with her, but she remembered everything about him. Including all the ways to make him lose control.
Her tongue met his. Her breasts pressed against his chest. He was aroused, growing more so by the moment, and she wanted him in her. Wanted the drive to oblivion that would let her pretend—if only for a fleeting moment—that everything in her world wasn’t a nightmare.
She sucked his tongue. He growled. Good. She wanted better.
Lauren stepped back. Shed the rest of her clothes. He watched her with eyes that burned.
She was his obsession. He’d said that. She wanted to see just how obsessed he could get.
His eyes were on her breasts. In the next second, his hands were, too. Caressing. Stroking. Then he was lifting her into his arms—still being so freaking careful—and carrying her to the bed.
His mouth was on her breast. Licking. Kissing. Laving her nipple and making the hard knot of lust within her grow even tighter. Her legs were parted, and his fingers went straight to her core. No hesitant touch from him. Just a deep thrust of his index finger into her even as his thumb pushed on the center of her need.
“You have to want me…more.” He whispered the words as he turned his focus to her other breast. “So fucking perfect…”
She wasn’t perfect. Far from it. She was barely holding on.
His finger withdrew, then thrust again. Helplessly, her hips arched against him when he pushed a second finger into the heat between her legs.
“Easy.” His head lifted. “You have to take care—”
Her eyes flashed open. She hadn’t even realized she’d shut them. “No! I don’t want easy. I want—” She broke off, lost.