by Cynthia Eden
Paul’s phone rang. He held it up to his ear. “Voyt.” His body snapped to attention. “What? Hell.” A brief pause, then, “I was hoping the guy had just run.”
Anthony’s gaze met Lauren’s. They both knew who Paul was talking about.
“I’m on my way. Get the techs to check the vehicle for prints and see if the station attendant saw anything.” He ended the call with a long, rough sigh. His gaze drifted to the door on the right, the door Julia had exited seconds before. “I guess she’s getting her wish.”
“Is he dead?” Anthony asked. It was the same question on Lauren’s lips.
“We don’t have a body yet. The judge’s BMW was found abandoned at a gas station near Pontraine Lake. The attendant realized the car had been out there for a while. He went to take a look and found blood dripping down the side of the busted passenger window. The judge was nowhere around.”
Lauren’s heartbeat raced. “Walker took him. Just like he took me.”
A muscle jerked along Paul’s jaw. “I’m driving to the gas station. If I find out anything else, you’ll know. Count on it.” He focused on Anthony. “You’ll be staying with her.” It wasn’t a question.
Anthony nodded anyway.
“Maybe you two can get the wife to tell you something else—something we can use. Sometimes, spouses know a hell of a lot more than we think.” He headed for the front door, moving with quick, long strides.
Lauren’s fingers twisted in front of her. “Walker was ready to start cutting me the minute he had me alone.”
Anthony stepped closer to her. “That’s because the bastard gets off on hurting women. He enjoys their pain.”
She flinched. He’d sure enjoyed her pain.
“The guard at the prison—the man he murdered—Walker killed him quickly,” Anthony said. “The judge won’t have as much time as you did. Hell, Hamilton could already be dead.”
“What?”
Oh, hell. Julia had come back into the room. Lauren hadn’t even heard her footsteps. She glanced over her shoulder.
Julia was frowning at them. “Did you just say Hamilton is dead?” Her face had turned a stark white.
Lauren took a steadying breath as she faced her.
“Where’s Detective Voyt? What’s happening?” Julia seemed a whole lot less enraged now, and much more afraid.
“Detective Voyt received a call,” Lauren told her, fighting to keep her voice level. “Pierce’s car was found at a gas station near Pontraine Lake.”
“What?” Then Julia smiled. “Oh, Pierce must have just been going to the old fishing cabin.” The tension seemed to leave her shoulders. “I knew he wouldn’t leave me, of course. I’m the one constant he always has. He needs me, you see. We’re a team, we’re—”
“The car was abandoned,” Lauren said softly. “The judge wasn’t there.”
Julia trembled. Her smile faded.
Lauren had to tell her the rest. Julia deserved the truth. “There was blood found on the passenger-side window.”
“Pierce’s blood?”
“It’s too early to tell that.” Anthony’s voice was a low rumble. “The crime techs will have to test the blood before we can determine that for sure.”
The hope had vanished from the woman’s face. Julia’s knees seemed to give way as she collapsed onto the lush leather couch. “I didn’t mean what I said.” Her voice was a whisper.
Lauren sat next to her and reached for her hand.
Julia’s lower lip quivered. “I loved him once¸ but somewhere along the way, we both got lost.” Her lashes lowered. “I was the first to cheat,” she confessed in a voice heavy with emotion. Pain. “He worked so much, all the time, and I just wanted someone to notice me. Maybe I wanted him to notice.”
“We don’t know anything for certain about Pierce right now,” Lauren said, trying to keep her voice reassuring. “I got away. Even if Walker has him—”
“We were broken after I cheated. Going through the motions. Hurting each other, but never letting go.” Julia’s lips pressed together into a thin line. It took her a few moments to say, “Maybe we should have let go.”
“Julia.” Lauren injected command in her voice.
Julia looked up at her.
“He isn’t dead yet. You’ve got to keep hope going, okay?”
“I haven’t had hope in a very long time.”
Lauren glanced over at Anthony. His gaze was so watchful as it weighed Julia.
“The reporters…” Julia whispered. “They’re going to find out, aren’t they?”
“Don’t worry about them.” Lauren had already scheduled a press conference to talk about Walker. She could handle any questions the reporters had about Pierce, too. “I’ll talk to them. I can—” She broke off as an idea formed in her mind. “Maybe we can even use them.”
A big maybe. A tricky gamble, but what did they have to lose? “The abduction is still new.” She faced Anthony. “We know the spot Walker took him from. We’ve got the general area. If we get the word out now, maybe someone will see Walker or even Hamilton. Maybe we can get a witness to help save the judge.”
Julia’s nails bit into Lauren’s arm. Lauren glanced at her. Tears streaked down Julia’s cheeks. “We truly loved each other once.”
“He isn’t dead yet,” Lauren told her again. Please God, maybe he wouldn’t be. She yanked out her phone and called the lead reporter for Channel Six. She had Caroline Kramer on her speed dial. The woman answered on the second ring.
“We’re moving up the press conference,” Lauren told her. “I’ve got a story I want you to cover now.”
Taking a judge in daylight when so many people were out and about was a ballsy move—one that just might prove to be a fatal mistake for Walker.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I’ve got money!” the judge said, his face ashen, “I can pay you anything you want!”
“I already took the big bag of cash you had in the back of your car.” Walker grinned at the jerk. That much cash would sure come in handy, once he’d finished his business in Baton Rouge. He’d disappear with the money, start fresh. “I figure I don’t need a whole lot more.”
The judge strained against his bonds.
Walker’s smile faded. The judge was a big guy, a couple of inches taller than Walker, and the man had about fifty pounds on him. Hamilton might even be able to get out of the bonds if he struggled hard enough.
Walker glanced toward the door. His partner should have been here by now. He’d waited, only using the knife on the guy a little bit.
His skin isn’t like a woman’s. It doesn’t tear like silk. It’s too rough. Ugly.
It was time to kill the judge. Time to shut him up and watch him die.
“Let me go, and I can give you anything.”
He liked it when the guy begged, though. Power rushed through him with every plea. Once upon a time, this rich fool had been the one with the power. Sitting up on that fancy bench, wearing a big, black robe. Slamming down his gavel.
Sending me to rot.
His fingers tightened around the knife. He wanted to shove the blade deep into Hamilton’s chest. But he could use the guy first. Get some information from him. “Tell me what you know about Lauren.”
“The DA?”
Who the fuck else would it be?
“She’s not staying at her house.” Which made hunting her so much harder. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know—”
Wrong answer. He shoved the knife into Hamilton’s shoulder. Blood spurted as he twisted the blade. Not the same. The blade didn’t cut right on the man. In a woman, it would have sliced deep, and the pulse of pleasure from the slice would have traveled all the way through him.
The normal pleasure didn’t come. He twisted the knife again, jerking it hard to the left. “You’re a fucking judge! You should know where the DA is!”
“Probably with the marshal. He’s sticking to her every minute.” Hamilton’s breath panted out as sweat beade
d his upper lip. “That’s—ahh, stop, please!”
“Tell me something useful, and I will.”
“I—I think they’re sleeping together…”
How was that useful?
“Saw the w-way he looked at her—stop, please!”
“I don’t give a shit who she screws.” It was just about the kill. About payback. Punishment. She’d taken so many years from him. She should have been dead long ago.
He’d gotten out of Angola. Started his own path. This time, he wasn’t going to stand in anyone’s fucking shadow. It was his game. His rules.
That was why he’d left her a note.
It’s beginning.
He wanted her to understand. It was all about him. About his power. His control.
The Bayou Butcher’s run in Baton Rouge wouldn’t end, not until Lauren Chandler’s blood soaked his skin, and she drew her last breath.
A breath he’d be the one to take from her.
“Th-thought she was still sleeping with the detective…” Hamilton gasped. “Karen told me about them.”
The detective.
The knife pulled out of Hamilton’s shoulder with a slow, wet glide.
“What detective?” There were plenty who’d worked on his case before. Plenty who deserved—
“Voyt. Paul Voyt.”
Well, well.
“They were…” Hamilton sucked in deep, gulping breaths. “Screwing for a while. If she’s not with the marshal, you can probably find her hiding out at Voyt’s place.”
“That is helpful,” he whispered.
The front door opened. He’d left it unlocked. Why bother locking it when he only expected one person? The footsteps were heavy as they thudded over the hardwood floor.
He turned, deliberately keeping his smile in place.
His partner stood there, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. “The judge wasn’t on our list.”
“No, not our list.” He wiped the knife on his jeans, smearing the blood across the rough material. “My list.” It’s beginning. My beginning.
The judge gasped behind him. “Help me!”
The fool should have realized by now. Help wasn’t an option.
“We are asking for the public’s help in locating Judge Pierce Hamilton.” Lauren’s voice was smooth and calm as she stared into the circle of camera lenses around her. “Judge Hamilton’s BMW was found abandoned at Quick and Fill Gas Station, near Pontraine Lake, a few hours ago. Investigators checked the scene and determined there were signs of foul play.”
Anthony had realized very quickly that when the DA said jump, the reporters flew into the sky. Right after her call, she’d had the top reporters in Baton Rouge assembled, all ready to go live with a noon broadcast of her story. The broadcast would hit people on their lunch breaks, and maybe the hotline would get a lucky tip—some driver who saw Walker or Hamilton. Something they could use.
Voyt had called back from the scene, and the attendant hadn’t remembered seeing anyone. There were no security cameras. Just jack and shit.
“Are you saying the Bayou Butcher has the judge?” a blonde reporter demanded.
“I’m saying that, at this time, we are searching for Judge Pierce Hamilton, and we would greatly appreciate the public’s assistance in finding him.”
“But you were abducted by Walker just yesterday, were you not?” the same reporter fired. “Is Walker targeting the people who sent him to prison?”
Just yesterday. Walker sure wasn’t wasting any time. A week ago, Anthony had been finishing up a case in Texas. Walker had been locked away in his cell. Now the bodies were piling up—fast. A rising tide of blood and death.
Lauren cleared her throat. “Only Walker can tell us that,” she replied. He knew she was trying to walk the line and not reveal too much information.
Not enough to compromise the investigation, but just enough to get help.
“If the public spots either Walker or Hamilton, we need to be contacted. Manhunts for Walker have been ongoing since his escape.” Her gaze darted to Anthony, then back to the cameras. “Authorities now believe Walker has been working with someone in the Baton Rouge area, someone who has helped him avoid detection.”
The reporters pounced. “A partner?” a male with an artful spray of gray at his temples asked. “The Bayou Butcher has a partner in crime?”
Lauren’s focus shifted to the reporter. “It appears someone is hiding Walker from the police. Walker is an extremely dangerous, unpredictable killer. Even the person working with him cannot be assured Walker won’t turn on him. Walker kills—that’s just what he does, and we need the public to help us stop him.” Her shoulders straightened as her attention spread to the full group of reporters once more. “As I said before, Walker should not be confronted by any citizen. If you see him or have information to share, call our tip line. Do not approach him on your own.”
Anthony backed away as she concluded the press conference. The FBI profilers were there, too, and he knew Cadence would be talking soon. While they were busy milling in the front of the police precinct, he saw an opening. There was someone he wanted to talk with.
Inside the precinct, he found Julia Hamilton huddled in a small office. She had a Styrofoam cup of coffee cradled in her hands. She wasn’t drinking it, though. Just holding it and staring into space.
“Mrs. Hamilton?”
She flinched and carefully set the coffee on the desk. “They said I didn’t have to talk to the reporters.” Her hands smoothed over her pants. “Lauren was going to handle all of that.”
“Yes, ma’am, she is.” He crouched in front of her. “But I was hoping you’d talk to me a bit.”
Her gaze focused on him. “You aren’t a detective. I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“No, I’m a marshal. I’m in town to catch Walker.”
Lines of grief had settled on her face. “Will you catch him before or after he kills my husband?”
He wasn’t going to give her false hope, so he didn’t answer. “You said the gas station was near an old fishing cabin your husband had?”
She nodded. “On Pontraine Lake. It was actually his father’s place. Pierce never seemed to enjoy going there.” Her lips twisted. “His father was big into hunting and fishing. Pierce didn’t like killing.” Her breath expelled in a rush. “That’s why he sentenced so few to death, even when they deserved it. Like Walker did. He should have sent the man to die, but he didn’t.”
The cabin was so close to the site where Pierce had vanished. Could it be a coincidence? Anthony wasn’t sure he bought into those. “Would you mind if I searched the place?”
She blinked. “You think Walker has him there?”
“I don’t know. Walker is familiar with the area.” A little too familiar for someone who’d been sitting in prison for five years. “Maybe he realizes where the cabin is.” Maybe he’d been looking for a quick spot to vanish and found one a few miles down the road. “I’m going to need an exact address.”
While she scribbled down the address, Anthony pulled out his phone. A few seconds later, Voyt was on the line. “Have you checked the judge’s cabin on Pontraine Lake?” Anthony asked.
“What cabin?” Paul barked. “What are you talking about, Marshal?”
He took a few steps away from Julia and lowered his voice. “Judge Hamilton’s father owned an old fishing cabin near the abduction site. It’s possible Walker knew about it. We should search the place. Make sure it’s clear.”
“Send me the address,” Paul said. “I was waiting for Hawthorne to meet me, so I’m still in the area. I can check the place.”
“A marshal and I will be on the way, too,” Anthony said. He needed to be out in the field stopping the bastard. “We’ll be there as fast as we can.” He ended the call and took the address from Julia. With a quick text, he sent the info to Paul.
“Please…” Julia’s voice stopped him as he headed for the door.
“I don’t want to bury my husband.”
The interview was over, and Lauren felt exhausted. Her stitches ached, her head ached, and her heart hurt.
I don’t think we’re going to find Hamilton alive. She wanted to have hope, but she didn’t.
“Come with me.” She turned at the sound of Anthony’s voice. He led her back into the station and pulled her into the conference room that the task force had been using.
As soon as they were inside, he shut the door. A glance to the right showed Lauren that the profile board had been moved. She knew Cadence had ordered it be removed for the time being, because she hadn’t wanted to risk any reporters sneaking inside for a look.
Even though the board was gone, Lauren still shivered, remembering all of the faces.
Jenny’s face.
“Matt and I are going to meet up with Paul and Wesley at Hamilton’s fishing cabin.”
Her heart started to beat faster. “Did Paul find—”
“No, it’s a hunch. My gut is telling me the place would sure as hell make a perfect kill site.”
She flinched.
“Jim has orders to stick with you.”
He was leaving her behind. Her brows climbed. “I thought we were a team on this.”
He brushed back a lock of her hair. The back of his palm lingered on her cheek. “I can’t hunt him if I’m worried about you. You need to stay here. Where you’re safe. Where there are a dozen cops right beside you.” He bent and brushed his lips over hers. “You’re hurting, don’t you think I know?”
She didn’t answer.
“I’m not taking you back to the swamp. I won’t put you in his path again.”
“You didn’t put me there before.” She didn’t want him blaming himself. “I did that all on my own.” Apparently, she’d been in Walker’s path for years—long before the trial. Back when she’d just been a kid.
“Stay with Jim. Let him and the cops keep watch—”
“I have to go back to my office.” She needed to check in with her staff. Make certain the cases they had to prosecute were set. Walker wasn’t the only killer out there.