Cynthia Eden - Fear For Me

Helplessly, she turned back to the victim. Helen Lynch was in her early thirties, with dark-brown hair. Her eyes had been opened in death, a deliberate move, and her lips were pressed tightly closed. The neck bore the same morbid grin—a deep slice right across her throat. The blood had stained the skin there.

She had to ask, “Did he leave us another message?”

Greg glanced up at her.

“Go ahead,” she ordered, keeping her voice calm and quiet. There was no room for emotion at a scene like this. If she felt too much, if she empathized with the victim, she’d be lost. “We don’t have time to wait for you to get back to your lab. If another victim is out there…”

His gloved fingers rose to Helen’s neck. He pressed lightly on the skin, making the wound gape open even more.

I can see the paper.

He pulled it out, slowly, carefully.

Kyle edged closer to her. He wasn’t as good at compartmentalizing as she was, but he didn’t have to be. Control was all she knew.

Crime scenes pissed him off, and she knew he hated to see a victim’s pain. It reminded Kyle of his own past too much.

The paper got stuck in Helen’s throat.

Kyle swore.

Greg hesitated, then grabbed for the tweezers in his kit. A few moments later, the paper slid free. Greg unfolded it, and when he read the note, she saw him swallow.

“What does it say?” Kyle demanded.

Greg glanced up at them. His gaze darted to Kyle, then to Cadence. “‘Guilty.’”

Anthony stood less than two feet from Lauren. Her arm was being stitched up—a long, slow process because that freak Walker had carved into her so deeply.

Lauren didn’t make a sound as the doctor worked on her. Lauren actually hadn’t spoken at all since she’d opened her eyes. The blue of her gaze seemed dulled, missing the normal sparkle. Too much pain. Too much fear.

A bandage was on her cheek. The doctor had said the wound wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. Her shoulder had been reset—popped back into the joint in a fast, brutal move that had made him swear.

Even as she’d continued to keep silent.

He wanted to take all of her pain away.

Anthony’s hands clenched into fists.

“I want you to stay here overnight,” the doctor said. She was a woman in her early fifties with dark hair and light-cream skin. “You have a concussion, and we need to monitor you for—”

Lauren shook her head. “I can’t stay here.” There was fear in her voice, a tension that pulled at him. He wouldn’t have Lauren afraid. “I hate being in hospitals. They remind me too much—I have to get out.”

“Ms. Chandler”—the doctor’s voice firmed but Anthony could see the compassion in her eyes—“you need someone to watch you. I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation. With a concussion, you—”

Lauren’s gaze rose and finally she looked at Anthony. “Will you watch me?”

That soft question almost broke him. Always. “Yes.” He hadn’t been able to let her out of his sight since the cabin. Matt had taken over the hunt in the swamp, and Anthony had gone into the ambulance with Lauren. He’d held her hand the whole way, but she hadn’t known. Her eyes had only opened when the ambulance pulled into the emergency area at the hospital, and then the EMTs had pushed him back so that they could get her out.

He hadn’t been pushed far. With every step that the EMTs had taken, Anthony had remained close. Fear still twisted his guts, and he wasn’t sure if the tight knot would ever go away.

“I’ll have a marshal watching me,” Lauren said, her voice a strained whisper. “What more do I need?”

The doctor frowned at Anthony. “She’s got a grade-two concussion, so when I say watched, I mean I want you in the same room with her at all times. If her pain gets worse, if her speech starts to slur, if she has seizures, you rush her back here right away.”

Anthony nodded.

The doctor exhaled as she removed her gloves. “I’ll give you a sheet with warning signs, but I don’t like this.”

“I don’t like this either.” Lauren’s voice was hoarse. It was breaking the heart he’d tried to pretend he didn’t have.

Lauren was lying on the hospital bed, a thin gown over her. Her clothing had been taken and bagged as evidence. Voyt and his crime scene guys were going over the cabin, and Anthony was hoping the dogs and their handlers from the K-9 unit ran down Walker.

As much as he wanted to join that hunt, his priorities had shifted.

To her.

“One of the cops is supposed to be bringing you some more clothes,” Anthony murmured as the doctor slipped from the room.

Lauren wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was staring straight up at the bright lights overhead.

He edged closer to her. Took her hand.

She flinched.

“Lauren, it’s all right. He’s not going to get you again.”

She laughed. He’d never heard such a brittle sound come from Lauren. “He said he would. Told me he’d be back.” Her tongue slid over her lips. “He said…” Her words trailed away.

Anthony’s fingers tightened around hers. “I don’t give a shit what he said. He’s not going to hurt you.”

Her gaze came to him. There were tears in her eyes.

Something broke inside of him.

“He hurt Jenny.”

Anthony frowned. He didn’t remember a victim named Jenny in Walker’s file.

“I wondered for so long. I used to hope she’d come home, but she never did.” Her breath rushed out. “He hurt Jenny.”

Fuck—Jenny. The name clicked. Jenny was the sister she’d been talking about in the ME’s office. The drumming of his heartbeat echoed in his ears. “Baby, slow down. You’ve got to start at the beginning and tell me what’s happening.”

“My sister…” She swallowed. The small sound was painful to hear. “Walker killed her. He told me—” A tear tracked down her cheek. “He told me he killed Jenny.”

“He was messing with you. His first victim was—”

Her hand twisted in his. Her nails sank into him. “He told me. He knew about the piano lessons. He knew…”

He had to take her into his arms. Carefully, Anthony climbed onto the narrow bed. He positioned his body around hers. “The bastard was trying to get into your head. Whatever happened to your sister—”

Her body was tense and hard against his. “She was supposed to pick me up from school and take me to piano lessons. She never came. Never came…”

His jaw clenched.

“He said he watched her get cut up. That he buried her—and that he would do the same to me…”

The door squeaked open behind them. Anthony looked back, expecting to see the doctor, but instead, he saw the FBI profiler. Cadence had sure made good time getting there. He’d talked to her less than twenty minutes ago on the phone.

Cadence hesitated in the doorway. He knew she’d see—and understand—plenty by the way he was holding Lauren. He’d worked with Cadence on two other cases. The woman was private, smart, tough. In so many ways she reminded him of Lauren.

But she wasn’t Lauren. That was why they’d never clicked—why he never clicked with anyone but Lauren.

No one could ever be just like his Lauren. He could never want anyone else as much.

“I need to ask her some questions,” Cadence murmured as she hesitated in the doorway. “But I can give you a few minutes longer.”

“She has a concussion.” His voice came out clipped. He knew the drill with witnesses, knew they were supposed to tell their stories when they were fresh. But this wasn’t just any witness. It was Lauren, and she was shaking in his arms. “She needs to rest. I’m taking her with me. You can get your answers tomorrow.”

“Anthony…” Cadence sighed out his name. “You understand that isn’t how it works.” She walked into the room, her shoes nearly silent on the tiled floor. “Lauren, surely that isn’t how you want this to work? You’re a DA, you have to want us to catch Walker as fast as we can.”

Lauren pulled away from Anthony, putting a few inches between them that he did not want. “Someone warned him.”

At those words—three simple words—the whole case changed.

“Someone warned Walker that the marshal was on his trail.” The trembling of her body increased. “Someone was watching…”

Anthony glanced over and caught the slight flare of Cadence’s golden eyes. “How do you know that?” Cadence asked.

Anthony looked back at Lauren. A furrow appeared between her brows. “I heard a phone ring. The guy called Walker. Told him.”

“Are you certain?” Cadence pressed as she edged closer.

“I know the sound of a phone.” Now Lauren’s voice was clipped. Annoyed. “He left me so he could answer it. That was when I managed to break the chair and get to my feet.”

Anthony remembered the sight of the broken chair. The duct tape.

The knives.

“I heard him. He told the person on the phone…” She drew in a deep breath. “That he had me.”

He’d suspected Walker had been using a partner to get out of jail, but this was different than having a getaway buddy.

Anthony kept silent now, waiting for Lauren to finish.

“He yelled into the phone, ‘We were going to kill her.’ We.” The word vibrated with fear and fury. “Not just him…we.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A fast glance at Cadence showed the profiler was watching Lauren with hawk-like intensity.

“I ran for the door,” Lauren said. Her hand lifted. Touched the back of her head. “He stopped me. Said we’d finish soon when…‘he’ could join us.” Her hand dropped. “Then he slammed my head into the door and I passed out, I guess. I’m not really sure what happened. I woke up and saw the swirl of ambulance lights.”