He watched her face when he slid the sleeve of the blouse over her injured arm. She flinched and he froze, but she whispered, “It’s all right.” He hurried to finish.
It’s not all right. Her words were a lie.
It wasn’t going to be all right until he had her safe with him.
Until Walker was dead.
When she was dressed, he slipped a pair of comfortable shoes on her and eased her back onto the bed. He went to the door, where a wheelchair was waiting for him. A few minutes later, Lauren was secure in the chair. He started to move behind her, but she caught his arm.
“Thank you.”
She shouldn’t be thanking him. She’d been taken on his watch.
“I knew you’d find me.” Her voice was certain. “I just…I didn’t want you to find me dead.”
He schooled his expression, but she was already glancing away.
Finding her dead would have been his worst fucking nightmare.
What the hell would I have done then?
Cadence watched as Anthony wheeled Lauren out of the hospital. Did the marshal even realize how much his expression gave away? Probably not.
“We never found any indication that Walker had committed other murders. We thought we’d found all of his kills,” Paul said as he came up behind Cadence. The detective sounded frustrated, confused, and pissed.
She glanced over at him. “Maybe you did find all of his kills.”
Paul’s brows climbed.
“Did you miss that whole part from Lauren about her sister?”
He gave a low whistle. “Jennifer Chandler. I remember when that story made headlines around here. She was sixteen, captain of the cheerleading squad, class president—you know those kids, the popular ones everyone misses the instant they’re gone.”
“Her murderer was never caught?” Cadence asked.
“Her body was never found. Police weren’t even sure it was a murder.”
Lauren was at the end of the hallway now. Anthony glanced back at them. Cadence noted that he’d schooled his expression this time. Too late, Anthony. She’d seen, and she was pretty sure the cop had, too.
“The detectives back then thought that maybe she’d run away, but her family never bought that story.” He rolled his shoulders, as if pushing away a bad memory. “I caught Jenny’s file as a cold case a few years ago. That’s how Lauren and I got together.”
Only they weren’t together any longer, and Cadence knew if Anthony had his way, they wouldn’t be again.
A rough sigh broke from him. “Lauren has spent her whole life trying to find her big sister, and to discover that Walker was the one—hell, I can’t even imagine what she’s feeling right now.”
Shock had seemed to encase Lauren when Cadence spoke to her. A brittle veneer of ice that had looked like it might crack at any moment. Lauren hadn’t just learned about her sister’s fate—she’d faced death, too.
When the shock wore off, Lauren would have a hard fall.
Good thing that it appeared Anthony would be there to catch her.
She pushed her hands into her pockets. “Walker told Lauren he watched her sister die.”
“Twisted fuck.”
“But he didn’t actually say he killed her.” That was the point they all seemed to be missing. She’d have to talk to Lauren again to be sure. Cadence planned to analyze all of the old Bayou Butcher files again. “Are you sure the Butcher was just one killer?”
Paul blinked. “One killer is who we convicted, ma’am.”
She waved that away. “The crimes, the abductions…are you certain only one killer could do all of that?” She wasn’t. She was convinced it had been two men all along. “If he just watched Jennifer Chandler’s death, then that means someone else was there to do the actual killing.”
Paul shook his head. “No, ma’am. You’re wrong on this. The old ME checked over all the Butcher’s victims. Based on their injuries, she said they were all killed by a left-handed man, approximately six foot two, one hundred eighty pounds—Walker.”
“Yes, but—”
“When that poor babysitter was being carved up, the Petersons only saw Walker in their house. Nobody else.”
“Maybe the other killer wasn’t killing them.” Anger beat through her words. She knew killers, and she understood just how deadly some relationships could be. “Maybe it was his turn to watch.”
Two killers. It would sure explain how Walker seemed to be moving so easily between the city and the swamp. Maybe he wasn’t doing the moving. Maybe he was hiding out in the swamp, where he was most comfortable, while someone else hunted in the city.
“Walker’s blood was found on Karen Royce,” Paul said. His lips thinned. “I know the FBI likes to run with their theories, but what we’ve got here is just one sick prick of a killer.”
“I actually hope you’re right about that.” She’d only handled an alpha team once before.
Alpha team.
The term she used for two serial killers—two brutal, incredibly dangerous killers, who just happened to pair up because they recognized the same monster in each other.
In such a team, one man would always be the dominant, the alpha, the one who issued the orders.
The second man—or woman—would be willing to do anything, go to any lengths, to please the alpha.
Separate, they were dangerous. Lethal to society.
Together, they were a walking nightmare.
“I need to talk to Steve Lynch.”
“The bastard should have known he couldn’t deal with Walker.” Anger tightened Paul’s face. “We could’ve helped him. If he’d just come to us…”
The cop wouldn’t have been attacked. Lauren wouldn’t have been taken. As for Helen Lynch? Would she still be alive?
Maybe.
“Walker doesn’t trade,” Paul said with a slow, hard shake of his head. “He just kills.”
It was time for her to talk with Steve. To let him know that the dawn meeting hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. Time to tell him he would never be seeing his Helen again.
She straightened her shoulders.
I hate this part of my job.
The hotel room door had been repaired. Lauren stared at the door, her body bone tired, as Anthony secured her room.
“I thought about moving you to a new location, but with the other agents here, this is the safest place for you right now,” he said. “I’m working on getting another place for you, but I didn’t want you to wait any longer. You need your rest.” He glanced toward the door connecting their rooms. He followed her stare. “Sorry, baby, but that’s not happening tonight.”
He’d called her baby before. She turned her head. His voice deepened when he used the word.
His gaze was on her now. “I’m staying in here with you. The doctor said I need to stay as close as possible.”
He’d had her naked less than thirty minutes before. There wasn’t much that was closer than that.
“You aren’t supposed to sleep yet, so I’m just going to stay here. If you want to talk, then talk to me. Or don’t say a word. Just sit there, and let me watch you so I know you’re safe.”
He sounded…afraid.
She’d never heard quite that note in his voice before. He was the big, bad marshal. Anthony wasn’t supposed to fear anything. “I need to shower.” To wash away the blood that was still on her. To wash away the memories.