Fear For Me

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.”

He’d walked home from school and found a bloodbath. His mother, dead. A shotgun blast to the chest. After he’d killed her, his father had put the shotgun under his own chin and pulled the trigger.

“I’m so sorry, Anthony.”

He wasn’t telling the story for pity.

“My mom loved me,” he said with painful pride. His father might have been a twisted SOB, but his mother had always cared about him. Always. “When the police searched her car, they found bags packed. One for her. One for me.” She’d planned to get them both away.

Only the police believed that his father had come home and found her packing.

“He couldn’t let her go, and in the end, he wound up being the most dangerous thing in her life.” It hadn’t started that way, though. He’d seen the wedding pictures. Seen the happy smiles. He did remember them being happy. There had been fun birthday parties, family dinners at Christmas.

But obsessions could twist over time. Become so very deadly.

“I’m sorry you found them.” Her voice was low. Hesitant. “No child should ever see that.”

There were plenty of things children should never see. “You asked me why I left you.” He realized his fingers were making light circles on her palm. He couldn’t stop. With her, that had always been his problem. Can’t stop. Need too much. “I wanted you, so damn badly, all the time.”

Her palm was soft and still beneath his fingers.

“I wanted you to myself. I wanted you away from any other man out there.” To be truthful, he still did. But his control was better now than five years ago. “You were becoming my obsession, and I wouldn’t—couldn’t—stay here and turn out like him.”

She straightened quickly, nearly clipping him in the chin with her head. She turned to stare at him. “That’s crazy! You aren’t your father!”

“I want you with the same consuming need that he felt for her. The way I feel about you—it’s not easy and light. It’s dark and dangerous.” Consuming.

“Just because you want someone badly,” she said, her voice husky, “doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“If I’d had my way, I would have been in you every minute of the day.”

Her eyes widened.

“My emotions with you are too strong. Call bullshit if you want”—though it wasn’t—“but I wouldn’t risk you.”

“So you left me.”

He’d left, but had been helplessly drawn back. “It was supposed to just be sex between us, right? You didn’t sign on for an obsession. We were fire behind closed doors, ice in public. I was starting to rage out of control, and you were trying to keep a wall between us.”

Lauren flinched. “I was trying the case. I never meant to be…ice.”

“Shit, baby, I didn’t—”

“I know I have…trouble, okay? I can’t connect easily with other people. Even the ones who matter.” Her lashes lowered to shield her gaze. “I don’t let people in and I don’t share my feelings or my past. I don’t know how to change that.”

One thing bothered him…I don’t share my feelings or my past. Paul sure seemed to know plenty about her past.

There’s the jealousy again. Dark, insidious, creeping.

“I think I stopped letting people get close after Jenny vanished,” she whispered. “My parents fell apart. They hurt so much. I hurt. The pain was an ache in my chest. Constant ache. A part of me was just…gone.”

“Tell me what happened to her.” The time for secrets was gone. They were both baring their pasts in the dark, and he knew that after this, things would never be the same between them.

The emotions charging the air were too raw and powerful.

“She was sixteen when she vanished. Just sixteen.” She blinked quickly, trying to get rid of the tears blooming in her eyes. “She’d gotten her driver’s license the week before, and she was so proud to be driving to school.” A ghost of a smile lifted her lips. “She failed the driver’s test two times, but the third try was the charm. At least, that’s what Mom said. ‘Third time’s the charm.’”

The memory was a good one. Her eyes started to sparkle.

Then the sparkle faded as the tears came back.

“She was going to pick me up from school and take me to piano practice. At first, I thought she was just running late, that maybe she’d stopped to talk to her friends or something. I was so—so mad.” Her voice was hushed. Shamed. “I was standing in the parking lot, the buses were all gone, and all I could think was that I was going to tell Mom. I was furious, shaking. She wasn’t there.”

“You didn’t know.” Guilt was in her voice. On her face. Any child would have gotten angry in that situation.

“I didn’t even know I should be worried until Dad came to get me. His face was white. The piano teacher had called him and told him I never showed up.” She shook her head. “He was afraid something had happened to me and Jenny.”

Her gaze held his.

So much pain. Walker had brought all of the pain back.

“Only nothing had happened to me. Just Jenny.” Her sister’s name broke. “They searched everywhere for her, and found her VW at the edge of the swamp, but there was no sign of Jenny. Another car’s tracks were there, and some of the cops thought she’d met a boy. Run off with him.

“The cops told us we’d probably hear from her in a few days. They didn’t even search the swamp. Just said she was off with a boy. Told my parents they should have kept a better watch on her.”

Shit. Like her parents had needed to hear that crap.

“Only Jenny never contacted us. The years rolled past. There was no phone call. No letters. Nothing. Jenny just vanished.”

She hadn’t vanished.

She’d been killed. Buried. Hidden.

Jenny Chandler was out there somewhere, and before this nightmare was over, he’d make the Butcher tell him everything he knew about Lauren’s sister.

He walked through the swamp. Searchers were all around him. Deputies, folks from Fish and Wildlife, even detectives from the Baton Rouge Police Department.

No one gave him a second glance. He wasn’t the prey they were seeking. They were all too busy, all too focused on Walker.

But Walker wasn’t there. He’d made sure the guy was safely away. He couldn’t risk Walker getting captured and turning on him.

The little bastard had threatened to reveal what he knew. He’d sent a note from prison—sent a fucking note—and the warning had been obvious.

The man had wanted freedom. So he’d given it to him.

But freedom would come with a price.

He stopped by a twisting willow tree. Its long, slender branches brushed the ground.

A smile lifted his lips as he stared at that tree. Coming to this place, it always made him feel better, stronger.

The branches swayed gently. The movement so faint.

His shoulders straightened. His gaze darted to the ground. The lush grass grew easily here.

The grass grew, the willow bloomed—it wept.

His smile slowly faded.

“Hey! We need a search party on the northern banks!”

He gave a quick nod. It was an agent who’d just shouted the order. The guy already had sweat streaking across his forehead, and the man—with his disheveled hair and frustrated eyes—seemed far out of his element in the swamp.

Most people didn’t understand the swamp.

He did. Walker did. The swamp had brought them together. The swamp and their love of death.

He turned and strode away from Jenny. He’d come back to see her again soon. He always came back for her. In the meantime, he had a kill to plan.

He tempered his excitement as he joined the search party.

Cadence’s steps were slow as she headed for the holding cell. Steve Lynch had been kept away from the general population. The guard in front of her unlocked a door and led her down a narrow hallway.

“He’s been quiet since he came in,” the cop said as he darted a quick glance over his shoulder at her. “Not the way they usually are, ma’am. Most come in screaming and don’t stop for hours.”

They were almost to the holding cell and she didn’t hear any sounds. No shuffle of nervous footsteps. No rustles.

Lynch should be worried about his ex-wife. He should be pacing. He should be demanding answers.

That silence was unnatural.

They rounded the corner. She saw the cell. Saw Lynch.

She froze.

The bedding was twisted around his neck, and his body hung as his feet dangled six inches above the floor. He’d locked the other end of the bedsheet around the bars in the high window. What looked like a bench was overturned on the floor near him.

“Fuck!” The cop fumbled with his keys.

There was no need to hurry. Not now. Steve Lynch was gone.

She stared at the body, pity pushing through her. You knew we weren’t going to find Helen alive.

He might have hoped, but as the hours slid past, he’d realized the truth. Or maybe he’d realized it when Walker attacked the cop and took the DA.

No, Helen hadn’t been found alive, and now they hadn’t found Lynch alive, either.

Another life gone, snuffed out in the Bayou Butcher’s wake.

Guilty. Lynch had been the one to stand up and read that verdict in court. The verdict that Lauren had pushed for, day in and day out.

She pulled out her phone and called Ross. He’d need to know. So would Lauren.

He answered on the second ring. Cadence tried to keep her voice emotionless as she said, “Lynch won’t be able to tell us anything.”

More cops were rushing in, hurrying through the narrow hallway.

“Why the hell not?” Ross demanded.

“He hung himself.” A silent death. One that had probably taken no more than five minutes.

Dammit. She spun away from the body and tried to suck in a deep breath, but a knot had formed in her throat. She’d joined the FBI to stop crimes, not to keep finding bodies.

It seemed like she kept arriving too late to make a difference.

Too late.

Twenty-four hours had passed, and there’d been no sign of the Butcher.

Lauren glanced up as Anthony paced the length of the hotel room. He’d been doing a whole lot of pacing and it was driving her crazy. “You want to be out there, hunting.” She waved to the door. “Go!”

She felt like she was weighing him down.

He gave a hard, negative shake of his head.

“Look, if you’re worried about me, send in some cops, send in one of your marshals. Give me protection.” She paused. “But you go and do what you need to do.”

He stalked toward her. After their early-morning talk yesterday, things should have been easier between them.

Things weren’t easy. They were even more tense than before. With every hour that passed, with every moment her strength came back, the tension between them seemed to thicken.

You were my obsession.

It wasn’t exactly the tender declaration of love most girls longed to hear. But then, she wasn’t most girls.

Had Anthony thought his past would scare her? It hadn’t. It made her yearn for him even more.

He’s a survivor.

So was she. Dammit, so was she.

“You almost died.” His green eyes glittered with emotion. “From now on, I’m sticking to you.”

If she didn’t still have the headache from hell, she might be able to actually enjoy his company.

“They’re having a briefing down at the station,” she said. She might be sidelined by her injury, but she was keeping tabs on things. “Let’s go hear what they’ve got to say.” Even she could handle a trip to the station.

“They’ve got jack shit.” Disgust tightened his face. “All of those hours spent searching, and they turned up nothing.”

“Walker has help.” Just what she needed—a second serial killer in her town. “His partner could have helped him slip away from the swamp. He could be hiding him right now.”

Anthony thought the same thing, she saw it in his eyes. She pressed on. “Staying here isn’t doing any good. I’m stronger now.” Maybe he wouldn’t recognize it for the lie it was. “Let’s get to the station. Whoever Walker’s working with…if they killed J-Jenny”—she stumbled over her sister’s name—“if they’ve been working together for all of this time, then the partner should be someone who was in Walker’s life five years ago.”

Maybe the partner was even someone she’d interviewed as she prepared for the trial. She could have come face-to-face with her sister’s killer and not known it.

“We’ve got all the old interviews on file at my office. Names, addresses. We can contact those people. The cops might even walk right into the house where Walker is hiding.” Hope—it was all she had to hold on to at that point.

After a moment, Anthony gave a grim nod. “But you stay with me.”

“I will.” She was already dressed in pants and a top—he hadn’t helped her this time. She hadn’t needed his help, thankfully, because she sure hadn’t been up to handling his hot touch.

Lauren rose and headed toward the door.

“We will talk about it,” Anthony said.

His words stopped her. Not understanding, she glanced back at him, “We did plenty of talking.” Her soul was bare. What more did he want?

All your secrets. That was the answer in his hard stare.

She’d never given all to anyone. Wasn’t even sure if she could.

He reached into the nightstand, pulled out his gun, and holstered the weapon. Then, with his eyes holding hers, he closed the distance between them. “You talked plenty about the past, but you didn’t tell me a damn thing about what Walker did to you in that cabin.”

She hadn’t been able to think about it. She’d barely been holding herself together as it was. “I told Cadence.” The FBI agent had come to the hotel to interview her again. The other marshals had pulled Anthony away while they talked. She’d actually been glad he left. Baring her soul again in front of him would have been too painful. She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice. “Why bother with that nightmare twice?”

“Talking to me isn’t the same thing as giving witness testimony.” Anger burned in his words. “Dammit, I can help you.”

“When you catch Walker, you’ll help me plenty.”

She turned toward the door.

His fingers curled around her shoulder. “I see what you’re doing.”

Her heart was beating faster.

“What happened? Did I get too close? You’re trying to put the wall back up now?”

Yes. That wall was what helped her get through each and every day. She needed it to survive.

He turned her to face him. “I won’t go back to being on the outside.” He bent toward her. His lips were just in inch from hers. “I wanted you for too long. Too much. I came too fucking close to losing you.” His gaze searched hers. “Everything’s changed. Don’t you see that?”

He was all she could see.

Then his mouth was on hers. Not hard. Not demanding or taking.

Seducing.

She’d never been able to resist his seduction.

Her lips were parted, but he didn’t thrust his tongue past her lips. Not at first. He pressed his lips to hers, stealing her breath, giving her his. Her mouth opened more beneath the light touch.

Helpless. That was the way he made her feel.

His tongue lightly licked her lower lip, then it was pushing into her mouth. Her fingers locked around his shoulders, and Lauren found herself rising onto her toes.

Her body pressed along the length of his. His arousal thrust toward her, but still, he kept the kiss easy. Gentle.

His tongue was against hers, his arms surrounded her. He was all that she could feel, all that she could taste.

She wanted more. Harder. But his mouth was already pulling away even though a moan of protest slipped from her lips.

“I could never forget the way you taste,” he said.

Her lashes lifted. His eyes…she pulled in a quick breath…he looked hungry.

Not for food.

“Sin and sweetness, all twisted together. You fucking bring me to my knees.”

He wasn’t on his knees. She was the one who felt like her knees were wobbling.

“I will have you again.” A promise.

One she wanted fulfilled.

“The doctor wants to check you once more. If you get the all clear from Davis…if it’s safe for you…”

Her fingers pushed against his shoulders, forcing him back. “It will be.” It needed to be. Because she wanted, as desperately as he did.

The look in his eyes—the stark promise of pleasure and passion—it was exactly what she needed to wipe away the memory of fear and death.

It will be.

Pierce Hamilton wasn’t paying any attention to the case being presented before him. The witness was testifying, going on and on about an alibi that was probably crap, and all he could think was—

Lauren Chandler got away from the Bayou Butcher.

He’d woken to the headline today, screaming from the cover of the newspaper, and then the reporters from the local news had been too eager to blast the same story at him.

The DA was a very hot topic, and apparently extremely good at surviving. It hardly seemed fair she had survived when Karen hadn’t.

“Your Honor?” The defense attorney cleared his throat. “I—uh—I objected.”

Hell.

He didn’t even know what the objection had been about. He slammed down his gavel. “Court is recessed until nine a.m. tomorrow.”

The defense attorney’s jaw dropped. “But Your Honor—”

Pierce shoved away from his chair and hurried for the door.

The police had said they’d protect Lauren. They hadn’t. She’d nearly died.

What will happen to me?

His robe billowed around him. He wasn’t going to sit there and wait for the Butcher to come after him. Karen was already gone. He wouldn’t roll over and die, too.

If the Butcher thought he would, then the sick prick needed to think again.

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 alpha 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.