As soon as they were inside, he shut the door. A glance to the right showed Lauren that the profile board had been moved. She knew Cadence had ordered it be removed for the time being, because she hadn’t wanted to risk any reporters sneaking inside for a look.

Even though the board was gone, Lauren still shivered, remembering all of the faces.

Jenny’s face.

“Matt and I are going to meet up with Paul and Wesley at Hamilton’s fishing cabin.”

Her heart started to beat faster. “Did Paul find—”

“No, it’s a hunch. My gut is telling me the place would sure as hell make a perfect kill site.”

She flinched.

“Jim has orders to stick with you.”

He was leaving her behind. Her brows climbed. “I thought we were a team on this.”

He brushed back a lock of her hair. The back of his palm lingered on her cheek. “I can’t hunt him if I’m worried about you. You need to stay here. Where you’re safe. Where there are a dozen cops right beside you.” He bent and brushed his lips over hers. “You’re hurting, don’t you think I know?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m not taking you back to the swamp. I won’t put you in his path again.”

“You didn’t put me there before.” She didn’t want him blaming himself. “I did that all on my own.” Apparently, she’d been in Walker’s path for years—long before the trial. Back when she’d just been a kid.

“Stay with Jim. Let him and the cops keep watch—”

“I have to go back to my office.” She needed to check in with her staff. Make certain the cases they had to prosecute were set. Walker wasn’t the only killer out there.

His lips tightened. Well, tough. She had a job. People who needed her. She wouldn’t let Walker destroy everything she had. “I have to go.”

“Fine, but then Jim goes, too. So does a patrol.” He was adamant. “I won’t have you unprotected. I can’t do my job if I think you’re unsafe.”

She nodded. “I’ll take Jim and the patrol.” She wasn’t stupid and she sure didn’t have a death wish.

His forehead rested against hers. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

She had more of a problem keeping him out of her heart.

“No one else has ever been like you.” His confession could have been hers.

She swallowed and whispered, “Go.”

He pulled back and studied her with a guarded gaze. “Even when I catch Walker, this isn’t over.”

The words sounded like a warning.

He left as Jim eased into the office and gave her a weak smile. “I promise, ma’am,” he said, with a little nod, “you can count on me.”

She was in a police precinct—the safest place on earth. She wasn’t afraid for herself right now.

It was Anthony she was worried about.

Her gaze slid after him.

Come back to me.

* * *

Walker shoved the knife hilt deep into Hamilton’s chest.

Blood soaked Pierce Hamilton’s shirt. The life drained from his eyes, and his head hung forward, sagging toward the gaping wound in his chest.

“One more down.”

It was becoming something he now had to do. He walked toward the old desk, found a slip of paper, tore it in half, and made the perfect size he needed.

“What are you doin’?” Jon’s partner asked.

“Leaving Lauren a message.” With blood still staining his fingers, he scrawled, The blood is on you.

If Lauren had just died like she should have yesterday, he would have left this rat hole town already. Hamilton would have gotten to keep living. Sure, he’d thought about killing the judge, and he’d sure enjoyed trashing the guy’s office, but Lauren was the one he really wanted.

Only she’d gotten away. So he’d had to take other prey. Had to slake the thirst for vengeance that grew and grew inside of him.

He folded the paper and stalked back toward Hamilton. The judge didn’t look so high and mighty anymore. If it took the cops a few days to find him, he’d be rotten. Stinking. Decay and garbage. Exactly the end he deserved.

He yanked the knife from the judge’s chest. “Open wide,” he muttered and then he sliced the bastard’s throat. His fingers jammed the piece of paper into the bloody opening.

The floor creaked behind him. His partner came closer. A hard hand landed on Jon’s shoulder and yanked him around. “That’s not how it’s done.” Rage darkened his partner’s eyes.

“That’s how I do it.” Jon had learned from this man before. Done everything his way. For so many years. Too many.

He’d even gone to jail, keeping his secret.

He wasn’t going to be anyone’s little bitch anymore. Prison had taught him one thing—true power went to the strongest. He was the strongest.

After he’d killed his cell mate, the others in Angola had stayed away from him. Rapists, robbers, murderers—they’d all feared him.

Strength is power. I have the power now.

Jon shook his head and offered his partner a small smile. “I do things differently now. I do what I want.” It felt good leaving the damn notes—letting them know he was the one in charge. He’d wanted to leave messages years before taking credit for what they were doing, but his partner—oh, hell, no, he’d been against that. Said messages would be traced.

Nothing had been traced yet.

Nothing would.

They can’t stop me.

“We fucking tried doing what you wanted before.” Rage snapped in the words. “I let you pick your own prey, and you got caught slicing up the teenager. If you’d listened to me, you never would have—”

Jon lifted the bloody knife. Put it against the other man’s chest. “I’m rising.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do anymore.” Power flushed him. Killing the judge had given him a rush. A rush nearly as good as the one he got when he sliced into his usual prey. “I know how to kill. I’m even better at it than you.”

His partner’s rage-filled stare dropped to the knife Jon held so tightly. “You think you’re going to kill me?”

Jon hesitated. That wasn’t part of his plan. His partner was the only one who truly knew him. His only connection.

His family.

He lowered the knife. “Of course not.” Jon tried a rough laugh.

The other man didn’t laugh back. “You shouldn’t have brought the judge to this place. It’s too close to the abduction site. The cops are going to come out here.”

Let ’em come.

“They’re going to keep searching until they have you.” A hard shake of his partner’s head. “The marshal won’t just walk away from this case. He’s not giving up.”

“Because he’s screwing her!”

“You screwed up in front of her. You mentioned Jenny.”

Jenny. She’d been so beautiful, covered in blood. A work of fucking art. He’d tried to make Karen look just like her in death. He tried to make all the women look like Jenny. Broken, bleeding dolls, frozen forever in time.

“You mentioned Jenny, and now they’re gonna want to open her case again.”

Jenny had been too good of a secret to keep any longer. “Do you still remember where she’s buried?” his partner whispered. “I do. I can find her, anytime I want.”

Jon had learned so much since Jenny. They both had. Jenny’s death had been messy and beautiful and so fucking good. But Jenny had fought. She’d scratched his partner. “You left a part of yourself with Jenny.” That was part of his new power, too. “I could tell the marshal, I could tell the DA. If they find Jenny, they find you.”

His partner stared back at him. “We were brothers, you and I.” Brothers born from blood. “I’ve been helping you all along,” he continued. “I’m the one who took Helen Lynch—I made the phone calls to Steve. I convinced him to contact the judge. I’m the one who told him just what the fuck would happen if he didn’t make sure you got out of prison.”

Convinced him by putting Helen’s life on the line.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy cutting on her…” Jon said. The guy had kept Helen, played with her.

“I let you finish her,” his partner shot back.

He had let him. She’d been a gift. A beautiful, bloody doll for his collection.

“When Hamilton ignored the letter, I came up with a different plan, didn’t I?” His partner snarled.

“My plan.” The guy was trying to take credit? “I’m the one who got to the infirmary—”

“And I’m the one who had the car waiting, just like I said I would. I had the car waiting for you. New clothes. Cash. I’m the one who made sure no one would know about the communication we had—do you even know how hard that was? I did it, for you.”

His voice vibrated with fury, and Jon hesitated. He didn’t like to make him angry. But something was fucking bothering him. “You put that necklace where Stacy would find it. If you wanted me out, why the hell would you—”

“The bitch wasn’t respecting you.” It was said with barely contained fury. “She needed to know who she was pissing off—and she needed to know what was going to happen to her.”

It did happen. I cut her so deep.

She respected him now.

“Hell,” his partner blasted, “I’ve been doing everything for you. I even took you to Lauren Chandler’s place, and I let you kill the whore there.”

He’d done all of that for him. Kept him hidden. Brought him food. But… “Five years—”

The other man exploded. “You shouldn’t have fuckin’ taken the babysitter! That was stupid! They caught you red-handed. What the hell was I supposed to do? I got you out!”