Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher

by Cynthia Eden

  He watched her face when he slid the sleeve of the blouse over her injured arm. She flinched and he froze, but she whispered, “It’s all right.” He hurried to finish.

  It’s not all right. Her words were a lie.

  It wasn’t going to be all right until he had her safe with him.

  Until Walker was dead.

  When she was dressed, he slipped a pair of comfortable shoes on her and eased her back onto the bed. He went to the door, where a wheelchair was waiting for him. A few minutes later, Lauren was secure in the chair. He started to move behind her, but she caught his arm.

  “Thank you.”

  She shouldn’t be thanking him. She’d been taken on his watch.

  “I knew you’d find me.” Her voice was certain. “I just…I didn’t want you to find me dead.”

  He schooled his expression, but she was already glancing away.

  Finding her dead would have been his worst fucking nightmare.

  What the hell would I have done then?

  Cadence watched as Anthony wheeled Lauren out of the hospital. Did the marshal even realize how much his expression gave away? Probably not.

  “We never found any indication that Walker had committed other murders. We thought we’d found all of his kills,” Paul said as he came up behind Cadence. The detective sounded frustrated, confused, and pissed.

  She glanced over at him. “Maybe you did find all of his kills.”

  Paul’s brows climbed.

  “Did you miss that whole part from Lauren about her sister?”

  He gave a low whistle. “Jennifer Chandler. I remember when that story made headlines around here. She was sixteen, captain of the cheerleading squad, class president—you know those kids, the popular ones everyone misses the instant they’re gone.”

  “Her murderer was never caught?” Cadence asked.

  “Her body was never found. Police weren’t even sure it was a murder.”

  Lauren was at the end of the hallway now. Anthony glanced back at them. Cadence noted that he’d schooled his expression this time. Too late, Anthony. She’d seen, and she was pretty sure the cop had, too.

  “The detectives back then thought that maybe she’d run away, but her family never bought that story.” He rolled his shoulders, as if pushing away a bad memory. “I caught Jenny’s file as a cold case a few years ago. That’s how Lauren and I got together.”

  Only they weren’t together any longer, and Cadence knew if Anthony had his way, they wouldn’t be again.

  A rough sigh broke from him. “Lauren has spent her whole life trying to find her big sister, and to discover that Walker was the one—hell, I can’t even imagine what she’s feeling right now.”

  Shock had seemed to encase Lauren when Cadence spoke to her. A brittle veneer of ice that had looked like it might crack at any moment. Lauren hadn’t just learned about her sister’s fate—she’d faced death, too.

  When the shock wore off, Lauren would have a hard fall.

  Good thing that it appeared Anthony would be there to catch her.

  She pushed her hands into her pockets. “Walker told Lauren he watched her sister die.”

  “Twisted fuck.”

  “But he didn’t actually say he killed her.” That was the point they all seemed to be missing. She’d have to talk to Lauren again to be sure. Cadence planned to analyze all of the old Bayou Butcher files again. “Are you sure the Butcher was just one killer?”

  Paul blinked. “One killer is who we convicted, ma’am.”

  She waved that away. “The crimes, the abductions…are you certain only one killer could do all of that?” She wasn’t. She was convinced it had been two men all along. “If he just watched Jennifer Chandler’s death, then that means someone else was there to do the actual killing.”

  Paul shook his head. “No, ma’am. You’re wrong on this. The old ME checked over all the Butcher’s victims. Based on their injuries, she said they were all killed by a left-handed man, approximately six foot two, one hundred eighty pounds—Walker.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “When that poor babysitter was being carved up, the Petersons only saw Walker in their house. Nobody else.”

  “Maybe the other killer wasn’t killing them.” Anger beat through her words. She knew killers, and she understood just how deadly some relationships could be. “Maybe it was his turn to watch.”

  Two killers. It would sure explain how Walker seemed to be moving so easily between the city and the swamp. Maybe he wasn’t doing the moving. Maybe he was hiding out in the swamp, where he was most comfortable, while someone else hunted in the city.

  “Walker’s blood was found on Karen Royce,” Paul said. His lips thinned. “I know the FBI likes to run with their theories, but what we’ve got here is just one sick prick of a killer.”

  “I actually hope you’re right about that.” She’d only handled an alpha team once before.

  Alpha team.

  The term she used for two serial killers—two brutal, incredibly dangerous killers, who just happened to pair up because they recognized the same monster in each other.

  In such a team, one man would always be the dominant, the alpha, the one who issued the orders.

  The second man—or woman—would be willing to do anything, go to any lengths, to please the alpha.

  Separate, they were dangerous. Lethal to society.

  Together, they were a walking nightmare.

  “I need to talk to Steve Lynch.”

  “The bastard should have known he couldn’t deal with Walker.” Anger tightened Paul’s face. “We could’ve helped him. If he’d just come to us…”

  The cop wouldn’t have been attacked. Lauren wouldn’t have been taken. As for Helen Lynch? Would she still be alive?

  Maybe.

  “Walker doesn’t trade,” Paul said with a slow, hard shake of his head. “He just kills.”

  It was time for her to talk with Steve. To let him know that the dawn meeting hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. Time to tell him he would never be seeing his Helen again.

  She straightened her shoulders.

  I hate this part of my job.

  The hotel room door had been repaired. Lauren stared at the door, her body bone tired, as Anthony secured her room.

  “I thought about moving you to a new location, but with the other agents here, this is the safest place for you right now,” he said. “I’m working on getting another place for you, but I didn’t want you to wait any longer. You need your rest.” He glanced toward the door connecting their rooms. He followed her stare. “Sorry, baby, but that’s not happening tonight.”

  He’d called her baby before. She turned her head. His voice deepened when he used the word.

  His gaze was on her now. “I’m staying in here with you. The doctor said I need to stay as close as possible.”

  He’d had her naked less than thirty minutes before. There wasn’t much that was closer than that.

  “You aren’t supposed to sleep yet, so I’m just going to stay here. If you want to talk, then talk to me. Or don’t say a word. Just sit there, and let me watch you so I know you’re safe.”

  He sounded…afraid.

  She’d never heard quite that note in his voice before. He was the big, bad marshal. Anthony wasn’t supposed to fear anything. “I need to shower.” To wash away the blood that was still on her. To wash away the memories.

  Like anything could wash those away.

  He gave a small nod, a jerky move of his head. “I can help you. I’ll just—”

  “No.” The word was harsher than she’d meant, but she couldn’t stand his hands on her body right then. She was too raw. Too scared. Too needy—too desperate to stop the pain. “I can make it.”

  His jaw locked. “Fine. I’ll wait here.” His gaze streaked down her body, then flicked away. “But if you need me, just say the word and I’ll come running.”

  Lauren headed for the bathroom door. On the threshold, she paused. “This isn�
��t your fault.”

  A rough laugh. “I was supposed to protect you.”

  “I’m the one who wanted to go to the scene. With my job, I go to plenty of dangerous spots.” She looked over her shoulder at him as she braced her hand on the door frame. “This isn’t on you. I took the risk. I walked right in, knowing what waited for me.” Not what, who.

  Walker.

  “The cop who was hurt…” Talk about an image she’d never be able to get out of her mind. That blade, bursting from his chest. “McHenry is going to pull through, that’s what you said, right?”

  Another jerky nod.

  Thank you, God. She’d been so afraid the man would die.

  “And you’re still alive,” Anthony said, his voice getting harder, stronger. “The cop is alive. Walker didn’t win this time.”

  “He got away.” If he hadn’t gotten the call and run, she would be dead. Lauren knew it.

  “For the moment,” Anthony agreed. “But he can’t run forever. No one can.”

  Lauren shook her head. Her temples throbbed. So did the giant knot on the back of her head. She couldn’t stand the feel of the dried blood on her for another second. She walked into the bathroom.

  And left Anthony behind.

  Jon tied his boat to the small dock. The red and gold colors of dawn were streaking across the sky. He’d barely slipped out in time last night. With so many patrols sweeping, he’d needed to alternate between using the boat’s motor and paddling with the oars as he made his way to this spot. Whenever he’d gotten a little too close to civilization—even if civilization was a run-down cabin—he’d cut the motor.

  He was so much smarter than the cops realized.

  The dock groaned behind him.

  Walker swore even as he grabbed for the knife he’d strapped to his hip.

  “You don’t need that with me,” a familiar voice drawled.

  The tension eased from his shoulders as Walker let go of his knife. He turned to face his partner. “You beat me here.”

  “Course I did. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder every second while I was traveling. The cops aren’t after me.”

  Walker swallowed. The guy was still pissed. “I did five fucking years for you. Five years—so don’t use that shit tone with me!” He took a hard step forward.

  The guy didn’t back up a step. He never did. “You did that damn time for yourself. Because you got sloppy. You weren’t supposed to go after the girl that night. You were supposed to wait for me.”

  But the girl had been perfect. She’d smelled so sweet, and looked so good. He could still remember when he’d first seen her at the gas station. She’d run in, her phone glued to her ear, and he’d heard her talking about her babysitting gig. She’d stood in front of him in the line, gabbing on her phone, and she’d said she would be alone.

  The girl had even rattled off her address to the friend on the other end of the line.

  Too easy. Too perfect of a hunt to pass up.

  But the parents came home and screwed everything up.

  “You weren’t supposed to go for her,” that dark voice continued, “and you weren’t supposed to go after Lauren so soon. We have a fucking plan, remember?”

  He remembered he had his own plan. One that involved him being alone with Lauren. Cutting her. Again and again.

  His partner wouldn’t watch, not with her.

  “She owes me,” Jon spat and took another step forward.

  “I know.” Understanding because he always understood Jon, as no one else ever had. “We’re going to make her pay for everything, but first there are others we can take. Others who aren’t as protected as the DA.”

  Others. His mouth went dry. “I get to use my knife?”

  “You used it on Stacy.”

  Was that anger in his tone? His partner had never been angry before.

  I gave up five years of my life for him. I could’ve talked. But I kept quiet.

  Five long fucking years. The days, the months, the years had slipped away. He’d waited, but no new trials had come, thanks to Lauren and that fucking judge. Jon had even tried to use Lynch, tried to force new evidence down the judge’s throat.

  It hadn’t worked.

  Escape had been his only option. An escape that had taken too fucking long.

  Lauren Chandler is a dead woman.

  He wouldn’t serve time for anyone. Wouldn’t let anyone ever push him around again. He was strong. He was power.

  Everyone else was prey.

  The man before him had been the one to change Jon’s life. Only he hadn’t been a man when they’d met.

  Just a kid…like me.

  So incredibly like me.

  They’d grown together, learned together, killed together.

  There were some bonds that just couldn’t be broken. “I’ve missed you,” Jon confessed.

  Silence.

  Jon wet his lips. Had saying that been a mistake? Shit, he didn’t want to screw this up.

  “I think it’s time for us to enjoy some good old times again.”

  Yes.

  “We’ll make them pay for locking you away. We’ll make them all pay.” A pause, then, “Tell you what, Jonny…”

  Only his partner called him Jonny, a leftover from their days as kids.

  “This time, you handle the kill, and I’ll watch.”

  Jon’s lips stretched wide. This was it. His turn to show just what he could do.

  All he needed was a victim.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Anthony!” The cry was weak, thready, and it immediately sent him rushing into the bathroom.

  He shoved open the door, and it bounced into the wall. “Lauren!”

  She had one hand pressed against the tile of the shower, while the other clutched a towel that looked like it was about to drop at any moment.

  “Dizzy…” she whispered.

  Shit. He was at her side in two steps. He lifted her into his arms. She was still clutching the towel. Screw that thing. He tightened his hold around her and rushed toward the bed.

  “I’m calling Dr. Davis.” He’d been afraid the shower was a bad idea, but he’d also known she needed the blood off her. He’d wanted to make her happy.

  Carefully, he bent and lowered her onto the bed. Her stitches looked dry, but she was so pale. “Did you hit your head?” He stared into her eyes. Her pupils looked normal but—

  “Don’t call the doctor,” she said softly. “I just overdid it a bit.” She swallowed. “I should have gotten you to help me sooner.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Her lashes lowered, even as a ghost of a smile lifted her lips. “Because I was naked, and usually when one of us is naked around the other, help isn’t what happens.”

  His heart slammed into his chest. “You’re hurt. I could have controlled myself.” Was that what she believed? That he’d only think of himself when she was hurt?

  Yes, he wanted her twenty-four-fucking-seven, but he’d rein in that need. For her.

  He was realizing he’d do just about anything for her.

  “I wasn’t worried about your control.” Her lashes lifted. The blue of her eyes was still too dulled. He wanted the spark—the life—back. “I was worried about my own.”

  They’d lost the towel during the trip back to the bed. With fingers that weren’t nearly as steady as Anthony would have liked, he grabbed for the covers and pulled them over her body.

  A body that haunted his dreams. “You…” He cleared his throat. “You made it clear you didn’t want anything happening between us.”

  Crystal clear.

  “Maybe I was lying.” Her voice was soft. Not slurred, or he’d have gotten the doc on the phone.

  Lying? That whispered confession drove right through him. Anthony eased into the bed beside her. He slid his arm under her head and pulled her against him. She still fit him so perfectly. Better than anyone else ever had.

  Because no one else seemed made for him. “I lie sometimes,
too,” he confessed.

  “Tell me your lies.”

  She was awake, talking, in his arms. He’d tell her anything. “Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  He felt her start of surprise.

  “Then why go?” Lauren asked.

  A hard question. He’d been scared. He’d needed her too much. He’d worried she needed what he couldn’t give her. Instead of saying all that, he figured he should go back. Start at the beginning. His nightmare. “You never asked me about my family.”

  Her head pressed down onto his shoulder. “Not a lot of time for family talk during all the sex fests.”

  They’d been some pretty awesome sex fests. As soon as she was better, he’d be on her again.

  His cock was swollen and hard right then with need for her, but he was holding back. He’d be what she needed tonight.

  “When my parents were happy, when they were getting along, you could almost see the love between them. It was so strong.” During those times, things had been good. Close to perfect. “But when they weren’t happy…” Those times when his dad’s anger had burst free… “I didn’t think anything could be closer to hell.”

  He’d been wrong about that, though. When Lauren had vanished, he’d been given a fast trip to hell.

  “My dad would get jealous. If my mom talked to another guy, if she was even five minutes late arriving home, he’d swear she was cheating on him.”

  Lauren was silent in his arms.

  “She was his obsession.” That was what it had been. He realized it now. It wasn’t love. It was an obsession.

  “This story doesn’t end well, does it?” she whispered.

  Stories like his never did. “I don’t know if she’d been cheating on him all along—if his worries were real—or if the jealousy actually drove her to another man.” He’d been thirteen at the time, and too grief stricken to focus on the whys. “But when my father found out she was going to leave him, he snapped.”

  Lauren was silent. Her breath came in fast puffs that hit lightly over his skin.

  “He wasn’t going to let her go. If he couldn’t have her, no one else would.”