Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher (For Me #2)(43)
Author: Cynthia Eden

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 f**king 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.