Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher (For Me #2)(50)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“I know plenty.” Walker glanced around. “Like the fact your fishing cabin was empty, sitting all alone up here, waiting for someone to stop by for a nice little visit.”

Pierce’s eyes widened. This was his place. He hadn’t been here in at least two years. Julia hated the cabin, so he’d found other entertainment to keep him busy. But the antlers on the wall, the bear rug, the gleaming wood furniture—

Mine.

“Never would’ve guessed you loved to hunt and kill so much, Judge,” Walker drawled. “Looks like we have more in common than I thought.”

“We’re not alike! We’re nothing alike!” Pierce strained at his bonds. He was in one of the kitchen chairs. Behind him, his hands were wrapped with what felt like duct tape. He looked down and saw the gray line of duct tape around his ankles. He was trapped. Helpless.

The knife was so close to his skin.

The Bayou Butcher. He’d seen the crime scene photos, seen everything during the trial. He knew just how Walker liked to torture his prey. He also knew—

“You don’t kill men,” Pierce blurted, because what the hell else did he have to say? But it was the truth. Walker liked to hurt women, not men. It was part of the profile that had been revealed in court.

Walker laughed. “Tell that to the prison guard I gutted on my way out of Angola.”

Pierce shook his head. He wasn’t stupid. He’d had plenty of shrinks in his court over the years, so he understood more than most about the minds of killers. “It was fast, though, right? You don’t enjoy it when you kill men. Just women.” He licked his lips. “You would have enjoyed it if you’d gotten to kill Lauren.”

Walker’s face hardened. “I will kill the bitch.”

“Yes, yes, you will.” Pierce spoke quickly. “Call her, tell her I’m here, that you have me, and she’ll come running.” She’d also better come with that marshal who seemed glued to her side.

Or with the detective she’d screwed once upon a time.

Walker glanced down at the knife in his hand. “Women have softer skin. The knife just slices right through it.”

Sick freak.

“I sliced your girlfriend.” Walker glanced up with a sly smirk on his face. “Didn’t realize who she was to you, not at first. Just thought she was some dumb bitch friend of Lauren’s. And any friend of Lauren’s can damn well find herself under my knife.”

Pierce jerked at the duct tape. Don’t think about Karen.

“Karen, right? I found out her name later. I just called her bitch when I was slicing her.”

Pierce’s hands fisted.

“She started screaming that she had a powerful boyfriend, a judge who would give me anything if I let her live.” He laughed. “So stupid. She was your side piece. You wouldn’t give up anything for her.”

Pierce thought of Karen’s laughter. Such a sweet sound. He thought of the way she’d made him feel, like he should do more than let his life fade away. Like he should have dreams again.

“Call Lauren,” he managed to say, swallowing heavily. “Tell her—”

“I’m not calling anyone.”

Hell.

Walker stood directly in front of him now. “I was in that prison for eighteen hundred and sixty-five days. While I was behind those bars, in that f**king tiny room, you were out. You were screwing your whore, riding in your fancy car, eating your fine dinners.”

“You killed. A jury found you guilty—”

“One of the bastards changed his mind! He wrote to you!”

Pierce understood. “You made him write, didn’t you?”

The smirk was back.

“How? What did you do?”

“Let’s just say I found the right motivation to convince him I needed to get out of jail.” He laughed, bitter, mocking. “When you apply the right pressure, you can get a man to do just about anything.”

Pierce couldn’t get out of the bonds.

“But his notes didn’t work.” Walker’s jaw tightened, the smirk slipping. “So things had to get bloody for him. The bastard owed me, and I made sure he paid. Just like I’ll make sure you pay.”

He was staring at death. Walker’s slow, wide smile confirmed the hell that was coming. “You shouldn’t worry about other folks right now, Judge. Instead, you should probably be more worried about what’s going to happen to you.”

Paul whistled softly as the judge’s wife stormed away. “That is a woman with a whole lot of rage.” He shook his head. “Guess that’s what happens when you screw around on someone too long. They want their revenge.”

Lauren had seen the fury in Julia’s eyes, but she’d also seen the pain. At that moment, she wasn’t sure if Julia knew what she really wanted. Her husband being carved up by a serial killer? That might not be what she was praying for.

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.”