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

Animals—animals didn’t compare to humans. Nothing compared with staring into someone’s eyes and seeing the life drain away. It was the ultimate power.

Jenny had tried to take his power away from him. He’d wanted to love her. He’d tried. But she’d told him that he scared her.

So I f**king really scared her in the end.

Jenny had consumed him. Obsessed him. He’d taken to following her, watching from the shadows because he’d wanted to see her—all the time.

Other boys had tried to come around her. Had tried to take what was his.

He’d known then, there would be no letting her go.

She was his. Always his.

Getting her to meet him that day had been so easy. Jenny had always been far too trusting. He’d told her he wanted them to be friends, that they just needed to talk once more.

She’d been smiling when she got out of her car.

By the time he and Jon had her in the swamp, she’d been begging.

Too late. Jenny had made her choice. There was no going back for her then.

Only…

I missed her. After she was dead, after that wonderful rush was gone…he’d wanted it again. Wanted her. The need had built within him, and he and Jon had planned again.

Another girl. Another who reminded him of his perfect Jenny.

Again and again, he’d killed. Again and again…

But the others had never been as good as the original. Never as good or perfect as Jenny.

Would Lauren be as good? He’d come back to this town to be close to Lauren. She was Jenny’s sister. Staring at her always reminded him of his first kill. That wonderful power.

Maybe when he looked in Lauren’s eyes at the end, maybe it would be just like it had been with Jenny.

The rush. The pleasure.

Soon, he’d find out. Because Lauren Chandler wasn’t going to live much longer in this world.

She’d die begging, too.

The swamp was full of bald cypress trees, with thick trunks and knotted knees growing in the muddy water. Spanish moss hung from the branches, coiling down as Anthony passed.

He looked to the left. To the right. Lash pine, swamp tupelo, even swamp chestnut oaks were scattered in the area.

No willows. Not one damn weeping willow.

“Maybe your expert was wrong,” Wesley Hawthorne said as he stopped, putting his hands on his hips to survey the area. “The willow doesn’t have to be out here in the swamp. Hell, Walker killed in the city, maybe someone out there was growing one in a backyard.”

“The soil found with the seed matched this area,” Lauren said. “The swamp’s soil isn’t like a backyard. You know that, Wesley.” She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Like the others, she was dressed for the hike.

She’d been so determined as they searched. The hours had slid away. They kept looking, kept widening their parameters, but so far…

Jack. Shit.

Where the hell is the tree?

“Like finding a needle in a haystack,” Wesley murmured. “The swamp goes farther than most people realize.”

They wouldn’t give up.

Lauren turned away and went south with one of Wesley’s men at her side. Anthony kept his gaze on her.

“I know she wants to find her sister.” Wesley closed the distance between him and Anthony. “But do you think it’s fair to give her false hope?”

The man was pissing him off. “It’s not false when it’s real.”

Wesley shook his head. “I remember when Jennifer went missing.”

Anthony glanced over at the Fish and Wildlife agent. “I didn’t realize you knew her.”

“A swamp rat doesn’t exactly run in the same circles as the society belle, at least, not back then.” A sad smile twisted his lips. “I went to a different high school, but at football games, well, everyone noticed Jennifer. It was hard to miss her. She was always flying through the air, captain of the cheerleading team…”

The American Dream.

“There were rumors back then, stories that floated in the schools, about Jennifer hooking up with an older guy. That they’d run away, headed out to LA for a fresh start.” Wesley’s gaze had turned to Lauren’s back. “She never believed that.”

“Because it didn’t happen.”

Wesley faced Anthony. “I searched for Jennifer out here.”

Anthony gazed steadily at the other man.

“If you want to dump a body, the swamp’s the best place to go. I looked, over the years…”

Strange, for a man who hadn’t known Jenny.

The suspicion must have showed because Wesley’s jaw hardened. “When I get word of any disappearance, I always search. It’s as necessary as breathing for me.” He waved his hand toward the swamp. “My grandfather was half Choctaw. He taught me early to love the land and treat it with respect.” His head shook sadly. “The swamp isn’t a dumping ground. It’s not where those girls should have ended up.”

“You never saw any signs of them?”

“No. Never found any clothes, any shoes, any tracks at all that told me they’d been here.”

“Maybe because the killer was just as good at tracking as you were.” Walker had known the area like the back of his hand. Anthony bet Walker’s partner had, too. “Who do you know who’s like that? Who can slip into this area, know every trail and every path, and leave no trace behind?”

A man who’d be the perfect killer.

“Did I ever tell you…” Wesley rocked back on his heels. “That Jon Walker and I went to high school together?”

Sonofabitch.

“Hated the bastard back then. He was a mean jerk who got off on bullying weaker kids.” Wesley’s gaze had returned to the trees. To Lauren. “If you’re looking for someone who knew Walker back then, for someone who could never get lost out here, but someone who could make a body vanish into the swamp…then you’re looking right at me.”

Yes, he was. Anthony’s question had been deliberate, to see what Wesley’s response would be.

His response had been chillingly cold.

Wesley’s eyes narrowed. “Do you suspect me?”

Anthony waited. When he didn’t speak, Wesley’s stare came back to him. “I knew you went to school with Walker.” Like he hadn’t gotten his hands on Walker’s old yearbooks first f**king thing. “I asked if you knew someone who’d fit the profile.” His smile sharpened even more. “And you just listed yourself.”