Fear For Me

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“This city has been under the grip of terror for long enough,” Mayor Louis Daniels said as he crossed his arms over his barrel-like chest and lasered his gaze around the room. “Walker is dead, and it’s time to move on.”

The meeting had been called at seven a.m., in the mayor’s office. Lauren and Anthony had been given a thirty-minute warning, and they’d had to rush over to meet the mayor and the chief of police, Jeremiah Dodge. The homicide captain, Reginald Powers, was there, too, along with a very tired-looking Paul Voyt, the ME, and Anthony’s two marshals, Jim and Keith. In the back of the crowded room, the two FBI agents stood at attention, and Lauren could clearly see the tension in Cadence’s body.

“Now, I’ve read the files the FBI prepared about the so-called alpha team, but I don’t see one single piece of evidence that actually supports the claim that someone else has been working with Walker all of these years.”

Lauren’s heart was drumming in her chest. She’d dressed carefully, grateful for the suit that had been in her travel bag. She knew a power meeting when it was announced, and she wasn’t about to leave this meeting without getting what she wanted.

“Most of those missing-persons cases aren’t even in our jurisdiction,” the mayor continued, voice hard. “And without bodies…”

“We still have crimes,” Paul said, his own voice low.

Should he even be out of the hospital? He was so pale. Lauren cast a worried glance his way.

“Crimes that our DA would have a damn hard time prosecuting.” Louis’s dark gaze cut to Lauren. “Without the body, the jurors always have doubt in their heads. They always wonder, did she just run away? Did she just get tired of the life she had and decide to vanish? Hell, people up and abandon their lives and families every day. It happens.”

“This isn’t abandonment, mayor,” Cadence said, stepping forward. “These are very specific victim profiles that match our killers. The ages increase, every year, and the victims share the same hair color, the same general build, the same—”

“Why wouldn’t Walker have rolled on this guy?” the police chief demanded. “He was facing death. The guy should have bargained with everything he had.”

Cadence shook her head. “That wasn’t how it worked in Walker’s partnership. He and his partner had an agreement. When Walker went to prison, turning on the other perp might not have even occurred to him. They don’t think like regular people do. They think of blood and death and—”

“The city of Baton Rouge appreciates all of your help and cooperation on the Walker case,” Louis interjected smoothly, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “but the Walker case is over now, and so is your job.”

No. Lauren sucked in a sharp breath. She’d worked with Louis for a long time. Fury wouldn’t work with him. Emotion never did. “I heard Walker talking on the phone to his partner. He exists.”

Louis’s lips thinned. “You were terrified, Lauren. You thought you were going to die. You were bleeding, you had a concussion—”

“He didn’t slam my head into the wall until after I’d heard the phone call.”

The mayor sighed. “I read your medical report. You also had an injury to the front of your head. One you probably sustained during your abduction.”

She remembered hitting the ground. Everything going dark.

“You were concussed then. I can’t be sure that your memory isn’t faulty.” He paused as he studied her. “Be honest. If you had a witness who described the same situation you did, would you put her up on the stand?”

Damn him.

“Without any other evidence to back her up, would you let that woman testify to a jury? Even if she did testify, would that jury believe her?”

“There are over a dozen missing women who match the profile,” Lauren gritted. “Are we just going to ignore them? Act like they don’t matter?”

Louis shook his head. “No, we aren’t.”

“That’s something,” Anthony muttered, not sounding impressed.

Lauren wasn’t exactly impressed, either. She was pissed.

“Detective Voyt will pull the files for the women missing from Baton Rouge. Clyde will contact the police chiefs in the surrounding areas and alert them to the possibility that—”

“Possibility?” Cadence’s face had flushed. “There is no possibility. There’s reality. Listen to me, I am telling you, there is a killer still out there. A brutal, brilliant killer who has been hunting since he was a teen. He’s only gotten better over the years. He isn’t stopping.”

“How do you know that?” Louis demanded. “Sounds like you’re just going on a hunch.”

“I’m a profiler.” Her eyes glittered with anger, but Cadence’s voice was flat. “My job is to figure out killers. And I am damn good at my job. I’ve analyzed Walker, I’ve analyzed the abductions and deaths related to this case. There is a second man. One who has been going under the radar for far too long.”

Louis and Clyde exchanged a long, hard look. “If those police chiefs should want the FBI’s assistance on those cases…”

“What if it were your daughter? What if she was on the list of who we think the guy killed?” Cadence pushed.

Beside her, Kyle’s face was a dangerous mask. A muscle jerked along his jaw. “They need to know what happened to these women,” Kyle gritted. “They deserve to know.”

Cadence slanted him a fast, worried glance, then she shifted her attention back to Louis and Clyde. “If it were your daughter, would you still be turning us away like this?”

“We don’t have the evidence.” His hand pointed to Greg. “The ME says all the victims within the last few days were killed by one man—Jon Walker. His DNA was found at the crime scenes, on the victims. Just his. No one else’s.” His shoulders straightened. “As far as I’m concerned, until we have conclusive evidence, your services are no longer needed.”

Silence.

Lauren’s cheeks had been flushed with fury, but now they felt ice-cold. After a moment, when her heart stopped shaking in her chest, she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet.

She could feel everyone’s stare on her. “You didn’t answer Cadence’s question.” The words were still without emotion. “You didn’t say what you’d do if your daughter was one of his victims.”

Louis glanced away.

Fine. She exhaled slowly. “You know me, Louis. You’ve worked with me, time and time again. You’ve trusted me on dozens of cases, why won’t you trust me now?”

He still didn’t look at her when he answered, “The city can’t have any more fear. We need to heal, not start searching for new monsters in the shadows.”

He was spinning political BS at her. “What happens when those new monsters come out of the shadows? What then?”

“It’s not going to happen.” The words held plenty of bluster, but not enough confidence for her. “The people here are safe again.”

She considered that. Him. “Maybe it’s easier to pretend that, when it doesn’t hit close to home.” She kept her eyes on him. “It’s close for me. My sister is the first victim. Walker told me he watched someone kill her. I didn’t imagine it. I didn’t dream it up in my concussed mind. For you to suggest I did…” Now she was walking toward him with slow, sure steps. “It’s an insult to me and to every one of those victims.”

He flushed and started to stammer. He’d do a lot more than that before she was done with him.

“You’re so worried about politics, about the press, that you’re willing to let a killer roam free.” Lauren shook her head. “I’m not doing that.”

A chair scraped behind her. Footsteps, strong and certain, as they crossed the room following her.

“I’m not going to give up on these people. I won’t give up on Jenny. I’m going to keep looking, and I will find the man who has taken all of these lives. Then I’m going to make certain the justice system takes what is left of his life.”

“And I’m going to help her,” Anthony said, only his voice was much rougher and angrier than hers.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw the hard fury on his face.

“With respect, Mayor”—the word was a snarl from Anthony—“I don’t answer to you. Neither do my men. If I want to stay in this area, if I want to hunt that bastard, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Disgust tightened his lips. “I’m sure the press will love to discover how disinterested you are in all of these missing women.”

Louis blanched. “I’m not—”

“We’ll find your evidence,” Anthony told him. “I guarantee it. Then you can try to dig your way out of the grave the press will make for the mayor who didn’t give a shit about all of the lost lives.”

Louis’s gaze fell to the floor once more.

“By the way…” Cadence’s voice rang out.

Louis stiffened.

“Here’s a tip to remember…” She and Kyle strode toward Louis. “You don’t get to tell the FBI that we’re done. We don’t need you to tell us when to investigate a crime, especially one we believe crossed state lines.”

His rose to his feet. “What—”

“You should have read the case files better,” she said, cutting over him. “One of the victims was last seen just over the Texas border. If we’ve got a multistate killer on our hands, which I believe we do, the case follows under our purview. We will keep investigating, with or without the Baton Rouge PD’s assistance.”

His cheeks couldn’t flush much darker. “I think this meeting is over.”

“Yes,” Lauren agreed, “so do I.” She’d already taken steps to have her office covered for the remainder of the week. Cases had been taken, schedules rearranged. She’d made sure the DA’s office was set so nothing would fall through the cracks.

She wasn’t giving up. Not now. Now when she was so close.

They left the office. Lauren’s steps were far too fast as she hurried down the stone steps outside of city hall.

“Lauren!”

She stopped at Cadence’s call. The other woman rushed after her. “I’m not giving up,” Cadence said.

“Neither am I,” Lauren vowed. She couldn’t believe Louis. He was more worried about PR, about Baton Rouge being killer central, than he was about the victims. About saving lives.

“I examined Walker’s body last night,” Cadence told her. Kyle wasn’t with her. Had he stayed to tell Louis just what he thought of him?

“What did you find?” Anthony demanded. His shoulder brushed against Lauren’s.

“Inside the grooves on the bottom of his hiking boots, I found dried seeds from a weeping willow.”

Lauren’s heart stopped.

“I know that doesn’t seem like much, but willows aren’t exactly thick on the ground in the swamp. And it did come from the swamp. I got a botanist from LSU to look at the seeds and based on the soil embedded in the seeds, he figured out an area where he thinks the willow could be located.” She gave a little nod. “The area is in a ten-mile radius around Walker’s cabin.”

She almost couldn’t breathe.

“Before he died,” Anthony said, his deep voice rumbling, “Walker mentioned a weeping willow tree. He wanted me to tell Lauren about it.”

Cadence’s eyes widened. “The tree holds significance for him. Sometimes”—Cadence’s voice was soft as she continued—“killers will mark a space that is special to them by planting certain flowers or using a marker to—”

“You think Walker and his partner planted the willow near Jenny.” It was what Lauren thought, too. It had to be Jenny. Why else would Walker try to send the message to her?

Cadence nodded. “Maybe one of the killers even felt remorse for the act.”

Remorse shown by a willow that would weep year after year. If they’d planted a tree for Jenny…could they have planted trees for other victims, too? Others we didn’t even know about yet?

“I’m heading for his cabin,” Anthony said.

Paul was coming down the steps.

“No.” Lauren shook her head. “We’re going.”

Anthony gave her a grim smile.

“Lauren…” Paul called out.

She hurried toward him. Hugged him. “Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

“Like someone else I could name, I’m not exactly a fan of those places.” His gaze darted over her. “I’m sorry. Louis is being a dick. I’ll keep working the case. You know I won’t let your sister just—”

“Thank you.” She stepped back from him.

Cadence had hurried away, moving to talk with the ME, and Anthony stood behind Lauren, steady, silent.

“Thank you for all you’ve done on this case, for Jenny. For me.” Over the years, he’d always been a good friend. They hadn’t made it as lovers, but that was because she couldn’t love anyone else, not when she longed for Anthony so much.

Paul was looking over her shoulder at Anthony then. “You saved my life in the swamp.”

“I did my job.”

“Yeah, that job involved saving my ass. If you hadn’t burst through those bushes, if you hadn’t distracted Walker, I’d have a knife in my heart, too.”

Paul offered his hand.

Anthony took it. The shake was brief, solid.

“We think we may know where he buried Jenny’s body,” Lauren said quietly.

Paul’s head turned toward her. “How?”

“Cadence. She found evidence in the autopsy that’s given us a search area in the swamp.”

“An area around Walker’s cabin,” Anthony added.

“Fuck, you mean…” Paul stepped back. “All along, she might have been right there?”

Lauren nodded.

“We’re going to search,” Anthony told him. “While we’ve still got daylight to use.”

“I’m coming with you,” Paul replied, before staggering back.

Anthony caught his arm. “I think you need to leave the swamp to us…for now.”

“Dammit, I want to help—”

“Then you dig up the case files. See if you can make any new connections between the victims.”

Sweat had appeared on Paul’s upper lip.

That hospital stay was looking better and better to Lauren. “Get rest,” she told Paul softly. “Then you can help us.”

Jaw locking, he nodded. “I’ll call Hawthorne. Tell him what’s happening. He can come out there, even send some of his men. The more bodies you have on the ground, the easier the hunt will be.”

The hunt.

That was exactly what they were doing. The killer wasn’t getting away scot-free. They were the ones hunting now, and they wouldn’t stop.

Not until he was found.

They hadn’t listened to the mayor. He’d had to talk in that bastard’s ear forever just to get Louis to call the meeting, and they were still going to keep looking for the killer.

They were heading for the swamp. Back to the old cabin. This was so fucking bad. If they found the body…

They can’t tie her to me. It’s been years. So much decomposition. There’s no way the evidence could still be used. It’s far too compromised.

He didn’t want them bringing Jenny out of the ground. Jenny was at peace. Jenny shouldn’t be disturbed.

Not Jenny.

If they found Jenny, they’d look for others. They’d keep going.

Jenny’s blood had soaked his hands. He’d felt her life flow away. The power, the rush, had been the most amazing thing he’d ever felt before.

Animals—animals didn’t compare to humans. Nothing compared with staring into someone’s eyes and seeing the life drain away. It was the ultimate power.

Jenny had tried to take his power away from him. He’d wanted to love her. He’d tried. But she’d told him that he scared her.

So I fucking really scared her in the end.

Jenny had consumed him. Obsessed him. He’d taken to following her, watching from the shadows because he’d wanted to see her—all the time.

Other boys had tried to come around her. Had tried to take what was his.

He’d known then, there would be no letting her go.

She was his. Always his.

Getting her to meet him that day had been so easy. Jenny had always been far too trusting. He’d told her he wanted them to be friends, that they just needed to talk once more.

She’d been smiling when she got out of her car.

By the time he and Jon had her in the swamp, she’d been begging.

Too late. Jenny had made her choice. There was no going back for her then.

Only…

I missed her. After she was dead, after that wonderful rush was gone…he’d wanted it again. Wanted her. The need had built within him, and he and Jon had planned again.

Another girl. Another who reminded him of his perfect Jenny.

Again and again, he’d killed. Again and again…

But the others had never been as good as the original. Never as good or perfect as Jenny.

Would Lauren be as good? He’d come back to this town to be close to Lauren. She was Jenny’s sister. Staring at her always reminded him of his first kill. That wonderful power.

Maybe when he looked in Lauren’s eyes at the end, maybe it would be just like it had been with Jenny.

The rush. The pleasure.

Soon, he’d find out. Because Lauren Chandler wasn’t going to live much longer in this world.

She’d die begging, too.

The swamp was full of bald cypress trees, with thick trunks and knotted knees growing in the muddy water. Spanish moss hung from the branches, coiling down as Anthony passed.

He looked to the left. To the right. Lash pine, swamp tupelo, even swamp chestnut oaks were scattered in the area.

No willows. Not one damn weeping willow.

“Maybe your expert was wrong,” Wesley Hawthorne said as he stopped, putting his hands on his hips to survey the area. “The willow doesn’t have to be out here in the swamp. Hell, Walker killed in the city, maybe someone out there was growing one in a backyard.”

“The soil found with the seed matched this area,” Lauren said. “The swamp’s soil isn’t like a backyard. You know that, Wesley.” She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Like the others, she was dressed for the hike.

She’d been so determined as they searched. The hours had slid away. They kept looking, kept widening their parameters, but so far…

Jack. Shit.

Where the hell is the tree?

“Like finding a needle in a haystack,” Wesley murmured. “The swamp goes farther than most people realize.”

They wouldn’t give up.

Lauren turned away and went south with one of Wesley’s men at her side. Anthony kept his gaze on her.

“I know she wants to find her sister.” Wesley closed the distance between him and Anthony. “But do you think it’s fair to give her false hope?”

The man was pissing him off. “It’s not false when it’s real.”

Wesley shook his head. “I remember when Jennifer went missing.”

Anthony glanced over at the Fish and Wildlife agent. “I didn’t realize you knew her.”

“A swamp rat doesn’t exactly run in the same circles as the society belle, at least, not back then.” A sad smile twisted his lips. “I went to a different high school, but at football games, well, everyone noticed Jennifer. It was hard to miss her. She was always flying through the air, captain of the cheerleading team…”

The American Dream.

“There were rumors back then, stories that floated in the schools, about Jennifer hooking up with an older guy. That they’d run away, headed out to LA for a fresh start.” Wesley’s gaze had turned to Lauren’s back. “She never believed that.”

“Because it didn’t happen.”

Wesley faced Anthony. “I searched for Jennifer out here.”

Anthony gazed steadily at the other man.

“If you want to dump a body, the swamp’s the best place to go. I looked, over the years…”

Strange, for a man who hadn’t known Jenny.

The suspicion must have showed because Wesley’s jaw hardened. “When I get word of any disappearance, I always search. It’s as necessary as breathing for me.” He waved his hand toward the swamp. “My grandfather was half Choctaw. He taught me early to love the land and treat it with respect.” His head shook sadly. “The swamp isn’t a dumping ground. It’s not where those girls should have ended up.”

“You never saw any signs of them?”

“No. Never found any clothes, any shoes, any tracks at all that told me they’d been here.”

“Maybe because the killer was just as good at tracking as you were.” Walker had known the area like the back of his hand. Anthony bet Walker’s partner had, too. “Who do you know who’s like that? Who can slip into this area, know every trail and every path, and leave no trace behind?”

A man who’d be the perfect killer.

“Did I ever tell you…” Wesley rocked back on his heels. “That Jon Walker and I went to high school together?”

Sonofabitch.

“Hated the bastard back then. He was a mean jerk who got off on bullying weaker kids.” Wesley’s gaze had returned to the trees. To Lauren. “If you’re looking for someone who knew Walker back then, for someone who could never get lost out here, but someone who could make a body vanish into the swamp…then you’re looking right at me.”

Yes, he was. Anthony’s question had been deliberate, to see what Wesley’s response would be.

His response had been chillingly cold.

Wesley’s eyes narrowed. “Do you suspect me?”

Anthony waited. When he didn’t speak, Wesley’s stare came back to him. “I knew you went to school with Walker.” Like he hadn’t gotten his hands on Walker’s old yearbooks first fucking thing. “I asked if you knew someone who’d fit the profile.” His smile sharpened even more. “And you just listed yourself.”

Wesley grimly shook his head. “Go look somewhere else, Marshal. I’m not the killer. If I were, I wouldn’t be trying to help you find the body, would I?”

“Anthony!”

Lauren’s cry. High. Excited. In the next instant, Anthony was racing toward the echoing sound. His feet thudded over the earth still wet from an afternoon shower.

He turned to the left. The right.

He saw her with Matt at her side, beneath the sloping branches of a weeping willow tree.

The willow had been hidden, crouched beneath tall pines and cypress trees, blocked by moss.

But it was there. Not too big and with branches bleached light by the sun.

He touched Lauren’s shoulder. She flinched and spun toward him. “Is she here?” Lauren asked, her voice filled with hope so desperate that it hurt him.

There was only one way to find out.

Anthony glanced at the men who’d circled them. “We need the shovels.”

Lauren stood back while the uniformed men worked. Louis might have tried to shut her down, but she was the freaking DA. She still had pull and plenty of cops and techs who owed her. If her sister was in that ground, then Lauren was doing this scene right. There’d be no blunders with evidence as shovels were driven into the dirt. No contamination.

Every care would be used. Every. Care.

The pile of dirt grew. The silence in the area was thick as the men worked.

Lauren’s stomach was twisted into knots. Her hands were shaking. Every whisper of movement from the deepening hole had her adrenaline spiking.

Anthony was at her side. Watching. Waiting. Every few moments, his assessing gaze would drift to her. She knew he was worried about her. About what she’d do if they found the body.

And if they didn’t.

If she’s not here, I won’t give up. I won’t ever give up.

Her parents had kept looking for Jenny. They’d offered rewards, sent out so many missing posters, even bought a few billboards.

Her father had flown to LA twelve times, following rumors that Jenny had run away with an LSU grad student.

She didn’t run away.

Her parents had been so determined to never give up on Jenny.

Then cancer had ravaged her mother. Taken her so quickly, in the blink of an eye.

Her father had been the only one left for Lauren then. He’d still been searching for Jenny, always searching, when a heart attack took him far too soon.

Lauren had been nineteen.

Alone.

She wanted to reach out for Anthony. With him at her side, she didn’t feel so alone. But so many eyes were there, watching them, noting her every movement and gesture.

I’ll pick you up after school, okay, Laurie? Jenny’s voice, the memory of her smiling face, darted through Lauren’s mind. They’d been at the kitchen table, fighting over pancakes, rushing for school. Since I’m all street legal—Jenny had flashed her new driver’s license—Mom said I can take you to piano today.

She’d rolled her eyes. You just want a reason to drive.

So?

Don’t be late, Jenny. I’ve got to practice for my recital—

I’ll be there. Jenny had given half her pancake to Lauren. Count on me.

More dirt rose from the ground.

Count on me.

The men working in the hole stilled. “We’ve got something!”

Her heart stopped.

I’ll pick you up after school…

Paul shouldn’t have been there, but when they’d called the station to get the crew, he’d come. Shaking and pale, he’d been determined to join them.

Now he made his way to the hole.

Lauren found that she couldn’t move at all.

Anthony took her hand in his. His fingers were warm. She felt ice-cold. “Lauren?”

She forced herself to speak. “What did you find?” Her voice was too high.

Paul stared down into the hole. His face looked even paler. The lines near his eyes and mouth appeared even more defined. After a tense moment, he looked back up at Lauren. “Bones.”

Count on me…

A tear slid down Lauren’s cheek.

The men continued working in the hole.

“There’s clothing down here, too…”

Clothes and bones would be all that remained. Lauren’s lips pressed tighter so she wouldn’t cry out.

“Looks like a red shirt…” The words seemed to drive right into Lauren’s heart.

Part of her had stubbornly clung to hope. Hope that Jenny was alive somewhere. Alive, happy.

But…

Jenny had been wearing a red shirt when she vanished. A red shirt. Blue jeans. Her brand-new boots—Lauren’s birthday present to her.

“I want to see,” Lauren said. She took a step forward, locking her knees.

Anthony blocked her path. “Do you really want to see her that way?”

The image of Jenny as she’d been, dark hair gleaming, her wide, slow smile lighting up her face, was in Lauren’s mind.

I’ll pick you up—

“We don’t know that it’s her,” Paul was saying, voice thick. “It could be any of the missing girls.”

No. It was the weeping willow tree. The tree Walker had wanted them to find. They’d do a DNA test, but in her heart, Lauren already knew.

She stared up into Anthony’s eyes. His face had locked into a stark mask, but his green eyes shone with emotion. He bent his head toward her. “Don’t do this to yourself,” he whispered. “Remember the way she was, remember—”

“I have to see her.” Didn’t he understand? It wasn’t over. Couldn’t be over, until she saw her sister again.

Anthony shook his head. Pain flashed in his eyes.

The men were clearing the area to bring the body from the earth, the earth that didn’t want to let her go.

Lauren stepped closer and heard one of the men swear.

“Sonofabitch. Her hands are severed.”

Lauren’s body trembled. Anthony was there—always there—to steady her.

“Don’t, Lauren,” he said again.

It was her sister. She had to see.

She took another step.

Dirt. Roots, twisting through the dirt. And…bones. Bones darkened by the soil. An old red shirt, the edge of blue jeans…

A skull that stared up at her.

Something broke inside of Lauren.

She broke.

Anthony’s arms closed around her, and he held her tight.

He wanted to fucking kill. Anthony barely held his rage in check as he watched Lauren make her way to the ME’s office. She’d gone to meet with the mayor in a closed-door meeting—just her, the mayor, and the chief of police—a few moments before, and he sure as hell hoped she’d ripped the dick a new one. They had their evidence now, and there was no way the mayor could shove the body under the rug.

The press would know what was happening. Anthony had already made sure of it with a fast phone tip to some of Lauren’s contacts. No one would forget Jenny Chandler or the other victims.

Lauren’s steps were slow, her shoulders sagging, as she headed toward him.

He caught her hand before she could open the door to the morgue.

“No, not yet.”

Dark circles lined her eyes, from pain, horror, and grief that were ravaging her. He wanted to take it all away. He wanted to find the bastard who’d made her hurt and destroy him. Death would be too easy.

The man needed to suffer, as he’d made Lauren suffer. And Jenny suffer. And all the others.

He glanced over his shoulder. He saw an empty room and pulled Lauren toward it.

“Anthony, what—”

His mouth took hers. He had to kiss her. He wanted her to feel something, anything, but sadness and grief. He wanted her to know she was alive, dammit, and there was still hope.

Hope for her. For them.

But he could taste the salt of her tears. He hated the taste of her grief. Lauren should know joy.

I will kill the bastard.

Her arms curled around him. Her lips parted, and she kissed him back with an almost desperate need.

Her body trembled, but she pressed tightly to him. Her nails sank into his arms as she rose onto her toes.

Her lips broke from his, just long enough for her to whisper, “Make it stop.”

He stared into her eyes. Saw the gleam of tears.

“I can’t breathe. It hurts so much. Just make it stop.”

He kissed her again. His fingers sank into her hair. He angled her head up so he could take her mouth. Her lips. Her tongue. There was desperation in the kiss, a maelstrom of lust and need. And fury. For what had been lost. For the dangers that waited ahead.

The nightmare hadn’t ended with the discovery of the body.

Would it ever end?

“I want to take you out of here,” he told her, growling the words when their mouths parted again. “I want you with me. I want to help you.”

“You have.” Her words were ragged.

His hold tightened on her. “Lauren…”

She pulled in another deep breath, and eased away from him. He could see her trying to school her expression, but she looked so damn fragile—breakable—that it tore into him. He wanted to stand between her and any pain.

Every pain.

But he couldn’t stop the agony she was feeling, and it drove him crazy. She wanted it to stop, she’d asked him to make it stop.

I will.

“I have to see the ME,” Lauren murmured. “I have to talk to him about Jenny.”

“I’m going with you.” He’d waited for her, because he’d be damned if he let her walk into that room of death alone.

She gave a small nod. “Thank you.”

Screw thanks. He caught her hand. “When we’re done, I’m taking you out of here with me. You’re not staying on your own.”

“I’ve still got U.S. marshal protection?”

“You’ve got me.” Always.

“Thank you.”

There it was again. He didn’t want her gratitude. Just her. As long as the killer was on the loose, Anthony didn’t plan on letting Lauren spend any nights alone. Walker had targeted her, so what was to say the second killer wouldn’t, too? With Walker’s death, the man might be jonesing for vengeance. Just like Walker.

He followed her out of the room. When he opened the door, he saw Paul heading down the hallway, making a determined march for the ME’s office. When Paul saw them coming from the darkened room, he paused. One brow lifted.

Anthony leveled a hard stare back at him.

Paul cleared his throat, then held open the door that would take them all in to see Dr. Death.