Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher

  “You think she heard the killer?”

  He did.

  The killer had been there. Waiting.

  Had he wanted Lauren to rush in? To find the body? If so, he would have wanted the perfect place to watch her discovery. “Have your crime scene techs been over the whole room?” He could see one tech bent down on the other side of the bed.

  “They’re still working. I want them to be as thorough as they can be.”

  On this case, there wouldn’t be room for slipups.

  Anthony pulled on a pair of latex gloves. He headed toward the closet. It was located at the foot of the bed. The door had thin, decorative slits running its length. Slits that would allow someone inside to easily see out to the bed.

  He opened the door.

  “We searched there,” Reginald said from behind him as he heaved a sigh. “Didn’t find anything.”

  Nothing looked disturbed inside. Lauren’s clothes hung neatly on their hangers. Her shoes were all neatly on the shelves. The scent of lilacs was stronger in the small space.

  Reginald came closer to Anthony. “Someone threw the breaker at her house, that’s why she didn’t have power when she came in. The techs swept for prints there, but it had been wiped clean.”

  Anthony bent, staring down at the carpet. No shoe impressions. No debris.

  He headed into the closet.

  Shut the door.

  Anthony stared through those slits—and had a perfect view of the blood-soaked bed. His hands rose, hovering above the door.

  He reached higher. Higher. The closet would have been the choice spot for anyone who wanted to hide, but if the killer had been in the dark, he would have wanted something close by so he could turn on a light and see his victims—both of them.

  His fingers skimmed along the edge of the door’s top. His hand slid over the wood, searching.

  He wondered if there was a small flashlight somewhere. Instead, his gloved fingers touched the handle of something. A knife. He pulled the weapon down and stepped from the closet.

  Reginald let out a low whistle.

  Anthony studied the blade. No blood. The knife appeared to have been wiped clean, but the techs would be able to tell for sure.

  “Sonofabitch,” Reginald muttered.

  Yes, Walker was. Anthony raised a brow as he looked at the captain. “I guess your guys missed something.” A pretty big fucking something. On a case like this, there wasn’t any room for error. No mistakes.

  Mistakes meant death.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “District Attorney Chandler!” a reporter shouted as Lauren paused on the steps of the courthouse. “Is it true the Bayou Butcher is hunting in the city once more?”

  Anthony saw Lauren pull in a slow breath, then she pushed back her shoulders. He’d seen her do that move dozens of times in court. Bracing herself. Getting ready for the attack.

  She turned slowly to face the crowd, and the sunlight glinted off her blonde hair. She’d changed clothes, put on a sleek skirt and blouse that made her look both professional and far too sexy for his weak self-control.

  She’d always been too tempting for him.

  “Jon Walker escaped from Angola prison, and the U.S. Marshals Service is currently conducting a manhunt for him.” Her eyes, the brightest shade of blue Anthony had ever seen, glanced his way. “I have every confidence that the marshals will have Walker back within custody in a very short time.” She gave a nod, and turned away.

  “Will they have him back in custody before or after he kills again?” the same reporter fired out. A redhead, one with her hair in a twist, and one who was already trying to follow Lauren up those steps. “The Butcher did kill the woman who was found in your house last night, correct?”

  Lauren glanced back. Even across the space that separated them, Anthony could feel the chill of her stare. “Sharon, you should know better. I cannot comment on an ongoing murder investigation.”

  Then Lauren hurried up the steps, refusing to give any more comments. Anthony pushed through the crowd and followed her easily. They both needed to see the judge, and if this trip gave him the chance to have a few minutes alone with Lauren, he’d take those minutes.

  His ID let him sweep right past security. The reporters were held back, but their questions followed him.

  Lauren’s heels clicked across the marble as she closed in on the elevator. She slipped inside, turned around, and saw him. He caught the slight flare of surprise as her eyes widened. The doors began to close. He pushed his hand through the doors, triggering the sensor. Then he was inside with her. His gaze held hers.

  “Hold the elevator!” a voice shouted.

  Anthony glanced over his shoulder. “Get the next one,” he ordered, his voice a low rumble as he shoved against the button to send the doors closing.

  The guy—older, balding—glared at him but wisely stepped back.

  The elevator doors closed. Anthony glanced to the left at the control panel. She’d pushed the button for the fifth floor. Not a lot of time to talk, so…

  He pulled the emergency stop knob.

  “What the hell?” Lauren immediately demanded as she surged forward. “Why did you do that?”

  He turned toward her. Damn. Until he’d walked into the station and seen her, he’d almost forgotten just how beautiful she was in person. Photographs had never done her justice.

  Up close, he could see all the different shades of gold and blonde in her hair. Natural—he knew that fact intimately. Her face was heart shaped, her cheeks high, and her lips so lush and full. And—

  “Stop looking at me that way,” she told him, backing up a step. Her forward march had sure stopped quickly enough. “And get this elevator moving.”

  In due time. He cocked his head and continued to study her. Five years. He’d thought about her far too often during that time. “Back at the station, you were the one saying that we needed to talk.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve got a judge waiting on me now. A very nervous judge who I’m going to have to calm down.” Her gaze flickered over him. “You didn’t find the killer’s trail at my house, did you?”

  “We knew the rain would wipe away the tracks.” Mother Nature could be a real bitch when she wanted to be. “Every cop in this city is on full alert,” Anthony said. “I’ve got my men doing sweeps, and as soon as I talk to Judge Hamilton—” He broke off and gave a grim smile at the surprised expression on her face. “Yeah, I’m here to see him, too.”

  Judge Pierce Hamilton. The man who had presided over Walker’s case.

  The judge who was now nervous as all hell because the killer was on the loose once more. Only Anthony didn’t think the judge was the prime target for Walker. Walker hadn’t been fixated on the judge’s image, he hadn’t gone straight to the guy’s house.

  No, Walker’s main attention…is on Lauren.

  Lauren had been the one in that courtroom, telling the world what a monster Walker truly was. It had been her face on the TVs, in the newspapers. Hamilton had banged the gavel, but it had been Lauren who sent Walker to Angola.

  Then he remembered the way she’d cut through the courthouse. That sexy rolling stride—the way she’d been alone. Back teeth clenching, he gritted out, “I thought the cop was giving you protection.” That had been his order to the handsy cop who’d been way too close to Lauren at the station.

  Her delicate brows arched. “Don’t worry, Marshal. I have a police escort here, and he’s waiting outside to take me back to my office once I’m done with the judge. I’m covered.”

  Not well enough. He sure hadn’t caught sight of her escort. “Walker killed a woman in your house.”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  She should be plenty aware of the danger. Lauren couldn’t pretend like most folks did. Couldn’t act like the monsters weren’t real.

  Her breath whispered out as she continued. “He killed a friend, not just a woman. A friend. I’m trying to figure out why Karen was even at my house, and don’
t think for a minute, not one single minute”—now she was advancing on him once more, closing the space between them as color lit her cheeks—“that I don’t feel like someone ripped into my heart. Karen was the best friend I had.”

  Maybe that’s why she’s dead. He didn’t tell her that. Couldn’t. It was too brutal of a truth.

  But Walker was a brutal killer. He’d suffered in jail. Locked up for five long years. Maybe he wanted Lauren to suffer now, too.

  Anthony’s hand lifted and brushed across her cheek. She flinched at his touch and pulled away from him.

  “Get this elevator moving,” she said, but her voice was husky, reminding him of their past. Tangled sheets. Secrets. “Now.”

  No, not just yet.

  Studying her carefully, he said, “We’re gonna need the DA’s office to work with my team. Full cooperation.”

  She stared back at him. “Did you really think I’d give you anything less?”

  With the way things were between them, he hadn’t been sure. He should have known, though. Lauren had always been good at compartmentalizing her life. Hot sex with him in private. Ice in public.

  She exhaled slowly. “He killed two people at the prison. That’s what Paul told me.”

  Paul. The handsy detective. Anthony nodded.

  “He only killed women before.” Her voice was softer now. His hand had clenched into a fist—so he wouldn’t reach out to her again. “But this time, one of the victims was a guard?”

  Another nod. “It was a fast kill. More necessity than anything else.” Cold words. They had to be. He didn’t tell her about the doctor’s body. Walker had been up to his old tricks with her. Staring into Lauren’s bright gaze he said, “I’m meeting with the judge, then I’m joining my team. We’re going to search every hangout that Walker had in this area. He’s in Baton Rouge, and he’s going to try to look for security, familiarity.”

  Her lips pressed together, then she said, “I want to come with you.”

  “Baby, that’s not—”

  Her head jerked up. “I’m not your baby.”

  Talk about a slip. He sure hadn’t meant for that to roll out.

  “What I am…I’m the DA in this town. I want the people here to know we’re doing everything possible to keep the city safe, and I want justice for Karen.” She swallowed. The faint click almost seemed painful to his ears because he knew she was trying to push away the grief from her friend’s death. “I won’t get in your way, but I will be involved, and if I have to go over your head to do it, then I—”

  Static crackled on the elevator’s intercom. “Ms. Chandler?”

  Her head turned toward the security camera near the speaker in the left corner.

  “Do you need assistance?” that crackling voice asked.

  She leaned around Anthony, her body brushing lightly against his, and pressed the button to restart the elevator. “No, thank you. We’re good.”

  The elevator rose. Their gazes held.

  He hadn’t agreed to let her tag along on his hunt.

  She hadn’t backed down.

  Just like old times.

  The doors slid open. “I can help you,” she said quietly as they headed toward the judge’s chambers. “I’m the one who talked to Walker’s friends before and after the trial. I’m the one who interviewed the witnesses. I know him and his habits far better than you.”

  Maybe that was true, but he still wanted her away from the danger.

  Not getting up close and personal with it.

  She waved to a guard, then paused near the judge’s closed chamber doors. The flush had left her cheeks. Now she studied him with a cool gaze. “Unless you don’t think you can manage to keep me safe while I’m with you and your entire team of marshals. Is that the issue? Maybe my safety is too much to ask?”

  He almost smiled. Would have, if he hadn’t been so worried about the twisted killer on the loose. “I can do my job.”

  “Good. And I can do mine.” She turned away from him. Knocked on the door. “Judge Hamilton!” Her voice rose.

  The judge’s secretary wasn’t at her desk. Anthony wasn’t in the mood to wait around for the lady to return so that she could announce his arrival. He didn’t have time to kill. He pulled Lauren back and shoved open the door.

  The judge stood just a few feet away from the door. His black robe billowed around him. His face, pale and haggard, reflected his fear.

  “What took you both so damn long?” Pierce Hamilton waved his hands, motioning to hurry inside. “What the hell is going on? How did Walker get out?” He marched around to sit behind his big, antique mahogany desk.

  Lauren eased into the lush leather chair across from the judge. Anthony didn’t bother sitting. “He stabbed himself with a shiv, got taken to the infirmary at Angola, then he managed to kill a guard and the doctor on duty.”

  Hamilton flinched but his gaze didn’t waver. “Did he have help? Is the bastard working alone?”

  Now this was the dicey part. “We haven’t found any connection to anyone else…yet.” But Anthony’s instincts were in overdrive. The guy had gotten away from the prison too quickly. Had transportation been waiting? An old friend—or even a new one—who’d been willing to help the Bayou Butcher? Anthony had someone searching through all the visitor records at the prison. If there was a link to anyone who could possibly have assisted Walker, then he would find that link.

  Fuck, the last thing they needed was to discover that Walker had an accomplice out there. Someone to help the sick freak with his crimes.

  “We’re going to talk to all of Walker’s acquaintances next,” Lauren said, her voice the smooth cream that lulled jurors into believing every word she said. “If he’s working with someone, we’ll find out.”

  But her voice didn’t seem to be lulling Hamilton.

  “I’m going to hunt Walker based on what we already know about him.” Anthony could see the judge wanted reassurance that Walker would be caught. Well, he’d do his fucking best. “Walker was always at home in the swamps. He knows that area like the back of his hand. We’re going to search there, because the swamps would be the perfect hiding spot for him. Isolated, secure. He would feel in control there.”

  “And Walker was always about control,” Lauren murmured.

  Yes, he had been.

  “His cabin,” Hamilton said, frowning, “that damn place where he kept all of his trophies—”

  Anthony saw Lauren swallow. He didn’t like remembering that place, either. “We’re going to search it. Trust me, judge, I know how to do my damn job.”

  Hamilton didn’t look reassured. He looked like he was about to break apart. “We’re off the record here,” Hamilton said as he ran a hand through his graying hair. “So far off.”

  Lauren glanced over at Anthony, then nodded. “All right.”

  “I was sleeping with Karen.” His fingers flattened on the table as his gaze cut to Lauren. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

  It was sure news to Anthony. Karen Royce had been an investigator at the DA’s office. He’d met her a few times before, back when they’d all been working the Butcher case.

  Hamilton was a married man, tied to old southern money. Had his wife known about the affair?

  “That’s why you and Lauren fought at the courthouse, isn’t it?” Hamilton continued. “You think I didn’t hear about that? Hell, gossip travels like wildfire here. You found out about us…”

  “I knew,” Lauren said softly.

  Hamilton’s hands slapped against the desk. “And you didn’t call to tell me about her murder? A murder that happened right in your own damn home?” Anger ripped through his words. “I had to find out about it on the news. I had to—”

  “Right after her body was discovered, I was taken to the precinct, surrounded by cops and reporters. Did you really think that if I stopped to call you then, it wouldn’t be noted?”

  The judge’s eyes glittered, but he didn’t speak.

  “Karen told me you tw
o had broken things off. She told me that I didn’t need to worry about her because it was over with you.”

  “We would have worked it out. We would have—”

  “You’re married.” Her voice was flat. “Karen told me she didn’t want to be involved with you anymore. She was done—she hated that she’d been with you. Hated that she’d let you use her.” Anger flashed across Lauren’s face. “Dammit, Hamilton, you have a ring on your finger. It’s supposed to mean something.”

  The ring gleamed dully. The judge’s eyes narrowed. “My wife knew about Karen. She didn’t care—”

  “Maybe Karen deserved better than to be your dirty little secret.”

  He surged to his feet. “Maybe she deserved better than to die in your place!”

  Fuck that. Anthony jumped between them. “Judge, you need to calm the hell down.”

  The judge sucked in a deep breath. “He went after Lauren, didn’t he? Her house, her bedroom. Karen was just in the wrong place. I called her—told her I was coming over to her house…” His words tumbled out. “I wanted to talk. I was willing to do anything to get her back.” His body trembled. “She told me she wouldn’t be home. Karen left—went to her place, and she died in her—”

  “If it was Walker, then he knew exactly who Karen Royce was,” Anthony cut in before the judge could say anything else. “If he was the one who killed her, then it was deliberate. Maybe he was trying to send a message with her death.”

  The judge suddenly looked much older as the lines on his face appeared to deepen. “What message?”

  Payback.

  As he stared at the other man, Anthony saw that the judge understood. The knowledge was in his eyes.

  “The DA’s getting protection,” Anthony said without glancing back at Lauren. “We’ll work with the police and make sure you have a guard, too.”

  “Are you sure that’s necessary?” Then Hamilton gave a rough laugh. “Do you know how many killers have told me they were coming after me? How many threats I’ve received over the years?”

  “Walker won’t just threaten. He’ll slice you apart.”