Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher (For Me #2)(24)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“Excuse me?” Lauren thought her heart was going to burst from her chest.

“An alpha team—two brutal, efficient serials working together. But alpha teams are so rare.” Cadence lifted her hand, as if waving the thought away. “I need to see all the evidence,” she said again. “Before I can work up any additional profile on Walker, I need those files.”

Two serials. Lauren swallowed the thick lump in her throat. “It’s just Jon.”

It had to be.

It’s just Jon.

Cadence’s eyes were veiled, guarded, and the fear in Lauren’s gut thickened.

It was close to noon when Anthony spotted the tire tracks. He and Wesley both stopped at the same time. Sweat had slickened their shirts, and the heat was just getting started.

The tracks—

“They’re fresh,” Wesley muttered as he bent. His left hand hovered above the tracks.

Yes, they were fresh. Grooves left in the mud, tracks that had been made after the last rain.

“Looks like a motorcycle,” Paul said as he closed in behind them. “My Harley leaves tracks about an inch wider.”

Anthony frowned at him.

Paul shrugged. “If you’re going off-road up here, bikes can come in handy.”

So the killer was finding out.

The small group picked up more steam as they began to follow the tracks. One of Walker’s victims had been found in this vicinity. Well, what had been left of her. She’d been tossed aside and discovered by a local fisherman.

It had taken the ME weeks to make a full ID.

As they drew closer to the old dump site, the tire tracks remained steady.

Anthony glanced over his shoulder. Lauren was just a few feet behind him. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She hadn’t talked much during the trek, except for her quiet conversation with Cadence. A conversation that had pissed him off.

He wants to kill me.

Screw what Walker wanted.

He inhaled, turning away from her. The scent of vegetation was thick in the area, but there was something else hanging in the air, too. A harsh odor that grew stronger with every step they took.

A familiar, coppery scent.

He grabbed Wesley’s arm. The guy turned toward him, the same knowledge in his eyes.

They pushed through the brush and saw the small clearing.

He’s used the same site to dump a body again.

Anthony heard the sharp inhalation that came from Lauren, but he didn’t look back at her. He was too busy staring straight ahead, and fighting to keep his fury in check.

A woman lay on the ground, spread-eagle, with her hands thrown out at her sides. Blood soaked her. So much blood. Her head was turned away from him, but he recognized the bright-blonde hair. Recognized the short skirt and the discarded high heels that were just inches from her body.

Stacy Crawford hadn’t made it out of the city. She hadn’t made it far at all from Easy Street.

“She was supposed to get away,” Lauren whispered. “She was leaving…”

But Walker had gotten to her before she could get away.

He heard Paul call for backup. Carefully, Anthony walked around the body. He wasn’t about to contaminate the scene, but he needed to see—

Fuck. Her body had been sliced, deeper, harder, than the other victims’. And, unlike with Karen, Walker had sliced Stacy’s face. Again and again…

“Betrayal.” The word came from Cadence. She’d followed Anthony’s footsteps, moving in the exact same way because he knew she wouldn’t be risking crime scene contamination, either. “This attack was personal.”

Anthony turned his head to study Cadence. He’d had plenty of experience with profilers—some who knew their shit, some who tossed guesses into the wind. He’d worked with Cadence twice before, and the woman fell into the knowing-her-shit category. “Why betrayal?”

“Because there’s anger in the cuts. They’re deep, wild. He usually slices cleanly, and to go after her face so intently…” An exhale. “He was punishing her. You punish for a betrayal.”

She told us about the necklace.

Locking his jaw, he turned to Paul. “We need impressions made of these motorcycle tracks.” But he knew the tracks would match the others they’d found before. He knew it. “Stacy Crawford was alive less than twelve hours ago, so the bastard is still in this area.”

Still hunting. Screwing with them.

I’m hunting you.

With the increased media coverage, the bastard would be staying away from the busier places, sticking to the deserted swamps and back roads on his motorcycle, perfect for easy maneuverability. Anthony had already given orders to put extra patrols on the back roads.

The bastard would have to come out soon enough, and when he did…

We’ve got you.

While the others had come closer to the body, Lauren had backed away. Anthony focused on her now, noting with alarm the ashen color of her face. Hell, this scene had to remind her far too much of Karen’s murder.

He took a step toward her.

And saw her retreat again.

He wanted to put his arms around her. Hold her.

But Lauren had made it clear she didn’t want his touch.

Crime scene. Focus on the victim. Not Lauren.

“Looks like he went north,” Wesley murmured as he studied the direction of the tracks. “Buckhead Road is two miles north of here. He could have hit it and then made his way back to the city.”

Or he could still be in the swamp. Hiding. Waiting.

“It doesn’t look like anyone is here,” Lauren said quietly as she stared at the small home located on the end of Azalea Lane. A neat house, with a trimmed lawn and white shutters on the front windows.

The home of Ben Fort—Stacy Crawford’s boyfriend.

My boyfriend didn’t want to leave. He had a job he was doin’, but it’s over, and we can go now…After my shift, I’m free.

There would be no going then. Lauren felt sadness weighing in her heart. Stacy had been so close to getting away.

Just hours from freedom.

“He was supposed to leave with her last night.” Anthony drummed his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. “So why the hell didn’t he call the cops when she didn’t come home?”

The house was dark. No car sat in the narrow driveway. “Maybe he doesn’t know,” Lauren murmured. She’d had to break the news to families before, and it always tore at her guts to see their grief.

Anthony turned his head to look at her. “You think he didn’t notice that his girlfriend wasn’t in bed with him when he woke up this morning? It’s pretty damn hard to miss something like that.”