Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher (For Me 2)

“Probably with the marshal. He’s sticking to her every minute.” Hamilton’s breath panted out as sweat beaded his upper lip. “That’s—ahh, stop, please!”

“Tell me something useful, and I will.”

“I—I think they’re sleeping together…”

How was that useful?

“Saw the w-way he looked at her—stop, please!”

“I don’t give a shit who she screws.” It was just about the kill. About payback. Punishment. She’d taken so many years from him. She should have been dead long ago.

He’d gotten out of Angola. Started his own path. This time, he wasn’t going to stand in anyone’s f**king shadow. It was his game. His rules.

That was why he’d left her a note.

It’s beginning.

He wanted her to understand. It was all about him. About his power. His control.

The Bayou Butcher’s run in Baton Rouge wouldn’t end, not until Lauren Chandler’s blood soaked his skin, and she drew her last breath.

A breath he’d be the one to take from her.

“Th-thought she was still sleeping with the detective…” Hamilton gasped. “Karen told me about them.”

The detective.

The knife pulled out of Hamilton’s shoulder with a slow, wet glide.

“What detective?” There were plenty who’d worked on his case before. Plenty who deserved—

“Voyt. Paul Voyt.”

Well, well.

“They were…” Hamilton sucked in deep, gulping breaths. “Screwing for a while. If she’s not with the marshal, you can probably find her hiding out at Voyt’s place.”

“That is helpful,” he whispered.

The front door opened. He’d left it unlocked. Why bother locking it when he only expected one person? The footsteps were heavy as they thudded over the hardwood floor.

He turned, deliberately keeping his smile in place.

His partner stood there, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. “The judge wasn’t on our list.”

“No, not our list.” He wiped the knife on his jeans, smearing the blood across the rough material. “My list.” It’s beginning. My beginning.

The judge gasped behind him. “Help me!”

The fool should have realized by now. Help wasn’t an option.

“We are asking for the public’s help in locating Judge Pierce Hamilton.” Lauren’s voice was smooth and calm as she stared into the circle of camera lenses around her. “Judge Hamilton’s BMW was found abandoned at Quick and Fill Gas Station, near Pontraine Lake, a few hours ago. Investigators checked the scene and determined there were signs of foul play.”

Anthony had realized very quickly that when the DA said jump, the reporters flew into the sky. Right after her call, she’d had the top reporters in Baton Rouge assembled, all ready to go live with a noon broadcast of her story. The broadcast would hit people on their lunch breaks, and maybe the hotline would get a lucky tip—some driver who saw Walker or Hamilton. Something they could use.

Voyt had called back from the scene, and the attendant hadn’t remembered seeing anyone. There were no security cameras. Just jack and shit.

“Are you saying the Bayou Butcher has the judge?” a blonde reporter demanded.

“I’m saying that, at this time, we are searching for Judge Pierce Hamilton, and we would greatly appreciate the public’s assistance in finding him.”

“But you were abducted by Walker just yesterday, were you not?” the same reporter fired. “Is Walker targeting the people who sent him to prison?”

Just yesterday. Walker sure wasn’t wasting any time. A week ago, Anthony had been finishing up a case in Texas. Walker had been locked away in his cell. Now the bodies were piling up—fast. A rising tide of blood and death.

Lauren cleared her throat. “Only Walker can tell us that,” she replied. He knew she was trying to walk the line and not reveal too much information.

Not enough to compromise the investigation, but just enough to get help.

“If the public spots either Walker or Hamilton, we need to be contacted. Manhunts for Walker have been ongoing since his escape.” Her gaze darted to Anthony, then back to the cameras. “Authorities now believe Walker has been working with someone in the Baton Rouge area, someone who has helped him avoid detection.”

The reporters pounced. “A partner?” a male with an artful spray of gray at his temples asked. “The Bayou Butcher has a partner in crime?”

Lauren’s focus shifted to the reporter. “It appears someone is hiding Walker from the police. Walker is an extremely dangerous, unpredictable killer. Even the person working with him cannot be assured Walker won’t turn on him. Walker kills—that’s just what he does, and we need the public to help us stop him.” Her shoulders straightened as her attention spread to the full group of reporters once more. “As I said before, Walker should not be confronted by any citizen. If you see him or have information to share, call our tip line. Do not approach him on your own.”

Anthony backed away as she concluded the press conference. The FBI profilers were there, too, and he knew Cadence would be talking soon. While they were busy milling in the front of the police precinct, he saw an opening. There was someone he wanted to talk with.

Inside the precinct, he found Julia Hamilton huddled in a small office. She had a Styrofoam cup of coffee cradled in her hands. She wasn’t drinking it, though. Just holding it and staring into space.

“Mrs. Hamilton?”

She flinched and carefully set the coffee on the desk. “They said I didn’t have to talk to the reporters.” Her hands smoothed over her pants. “Lauren was going to handle all of that.”

“Yes, ma’am, she is.” He crouched in front of her. “But I was hoping you’d talk to me a bit.”

Her gaze focused on him. “You aren’t a detective. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“No, I’m a marshal. I’m in town to catch Walker.”

Lines of grief had settled on her face. “Will you catch him before or after he kills my husband?”

He wasn’t going to give her false hope, so he didn’t answer. “You said the gas station was near an old fishing cabin your husband had?”

She nodded. “On Pontraine Lake. It was actually his father’s place. Pierce never seemed to enjoy going there.” Her lips twisted. “His father was big into hunting and fishing. Pierce didn’t like killing.” Her breath expelled in a rush. “That’s why he sentenced so few to death, even when they deserved it. Like Walker did. He should have sent the man to die, but he didn’t.”