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

Anthony closed in on him. “How long has it been since you got your last fix?”

Fort flinched.

“You’re shaking, sweating, your affect is off, and your pupils are dilated.” Anthony had seen plenty of guys like him. Anthony’s eyes noted the blemishes on the man’s arms, on his face—the ones that weren’t hidden by the scratches. “You’re an addict—meth, judging by the marks on your face and arms—and you stole that stuff to feed your habit.”

“I would’ve pawned that necklace!” Fort snapped. “I’m tellin’ you, it wasn’t there when I looked! It wasn’t!” He looked quickly back at Lauren. “Lady DA, I’m helpin’ you, I’m tellin’ you everything I know.” He licked his lips—another sign of his habit. Dehydration. “Let’s work a deal. Come on…” he wheedled.

“The motorcycle you were on earlier, that is your bike, isn’t it?” Lauren asked.

Anthony was surprised the guy hadn’t sold it for drugs.

“Yeah, it’s mine.”

Lauren nodded. Her stare touched briefly on Anthony, then she was looking back at Fort. “The tires from that motorcycle were compared to the tracks left at Stacy’s murder scene.”

Fort’s brow furrowed. “So?”

“So they were a match.” Her head tilted. “So that bike—your bike—was out there where Stacy was killed.”

“No! That’s not—”

“You said you went out with friends.” It was Paul’s turn to go at the guy. Anthony understood the strategy. Fire questions from multiple sources to distract the perp. It worked sometimes. “Who drove? Did you take the bike?”

“No, my buddy Joe picked me up. Took me to Winders.” He raked a shaking hand over his face. “I left the bike at home. Left it, and it was there when I got back.”

“You expect us to buy that story?” Paul muttered. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

Fort’s fists slammed into the table. “It’s the truth!”

Anthony tensed, taking a step forward. “Settle down.” A snapped order.

But Fort glared over at him. “Or what? You’ll shove me into the pavement again?”

I’ll do more than that.

“No,” Lauren said, her voice calm and quiet. “We’ll just shove you into a cell, and you won’t get out anytime soon. Murder has quite a long sentence.”

“I didn’t murder nobody! Stacy texted—told me she was workin’ late!”

Same story. More anger.

“So I went out with my friends! We got ass drunk, but I never saw Stacy! I never saw her!”

“That’s a pity,” Lauren whispered. “Because maybe if you had seen her, maybe if you had been there to pick her up, Stacy Crawford would still be alive.”

Her gaze slid to Voyt. He gave a small nod. Anthony knew they’d be checking the guy’s phone. Would the text be there?

If it was, would it truly have been from Stacy?

She hadn’t mentioned anything about working a double shift when they’d talked to her. She’d been too intent on freedom.

She was free now, just not the way she’d wanted to be.

Everyone was free in death.

Lauren headed for the interrogation room door. Anthony followed her, glancing back as Paul continued his questions. He hadn’t been looking to pin Stacy’s murder on Fort, but now, hell, he wasn’t sure what was happening.

The door closed quietly behind them. “You think he’s telling the truth?” Anthony asked.

“Yes.” She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “No cell phone was found near Stacy’s body. So either the killer took it, or it was dumped somewhere in the swamp.”

Yeah, and good luck finding it if it had been dumped. “We need the motorcycle checked for prints,” Anthony said. “If Walker took it, then maybe we can get a print confirmation.” Then Fort’s story would be a little more believable to him.

Lauren was frowning and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “It’s so much for one man to do.”

His gut clenched. He’d thought the same thing as soon as he realized how easily Walker had vanished from prison.

“Dr. Hollow—Cadence—is going through the old case files. She thinks we might have missed…someone.”

A partner, back then? Fuck. He’d been so consumed by Lauren during those days, had he missed another killer, one right in the same damn town?

I’m just as consumed by her now. That obsession was leading to mistakes.

To death.

“He’s working with someone.” Lauren’s voice was definite now. “That person—he must have planted the necklace for Stacy to find. Walker was in prison then, it couldn’t have been him.”

Their gazes held.

“Two killers,” Lauren whispered.

Two killers would bring twice as much carnage to the city.

CHAPTER SIX

Lauren eased into the ME’s office, her steps quiet. As a rule, she avoided this place whenever possible. The smell, the chill in the air, the bodies stored so carefully…the place made goose bumps rise on her arms.

But some trips couldn’t be avoided. Sometimes you had to say good-bye.

She knocked lightly, and Greg Wright opened the door. Greg had been in the ME’s office for just over six months, and he’d proven to be incredibly thorough at his job. Greg was thirty-six, not much for talking, but when it came to the dead, he was a master.

“You’re here for Karen.” His gaze held a touch of sympathy. “I figured you’d be showing up soon.”

Lauren took a deep breath and could have sworn she tasted death. “I know she’s being transferred out soon. I just…I wanted to say good-bye.”

He stepped back, turning to head toward the storage area in the next room. Greg was a good-looking guy, with blond hair that curled slightly. He was called Dr. Death by some of the cops—not an insult, but a compliment because he was so good with the bodies. She didn’t know if he minded the nickname or not. It was hard to tell with Greg.

He didn’t let much show.

But then, neither do I.

Lauren followed him and waited while he pulled out Karen’s body. The sound of the locker opening had her tensing. Then the body was there. Covered in a big, black bag. Greg pulled down the zipper, and the sound of it filled the room.

Then she was staring at Karen. Lauren swallowed. Karen’s face was so pale. She could see the stitches on Karen’s chest. Karen had been so full of life, so ready to take on the world.