He locked his shoulders. “I was leaving you, Julia.”
She laughed. “No, you weren’t.” Her eyes met his. “Come back to bed, Hamilton.”
He didn’t want to go back.
Karen was gone.
Julia shook her head. “At least Walker saved us the trouble of having to deal with her.”
The rage burned in him then, so hot and dark that he felt like it would consume him.
Walker should have killed you, Julia. It should have been you.
“Now we can get back to the way things were.” She turned the light back off with a flick of her fingers. Cold. That was Julia. She didn’t love him. Never had.
He didn’t love her.
Never had.
It should have been you.
He headed slowly toward the bed.
Stacy Crawford wasn’t moaning. Wasn’t crying. Wasn’t doing anything at all.
Except bleeding.
The life had drained from her eyes. That moment—that one instant—was always so amazing to watch. Like a switch was being turned off, and all that she’d been faded away.
Because of him. Because he had that power.
He bent over her and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. He would leave her just where she was. The swamp had a way of taking care of prey for him.
His fingers slid over the earring that he’d taken from her. He tucked it into his pocket, keeping it close to his heart. Stacy had told him so many times she wanted to be special to him.
She was special now.
In death, they were all special. He’d learned that.
He turned away from her. Bent to pick up his knife.
There were more plans in place. Others who would soon find their way beneath his knife.
The Butcher had work to do.
The phone in his pocket began to vibrate. He smiled. Only one person had his number.
He lifted the phone to his ear. “Figured you’d call…just when I was having fun…”
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, Lauren, Anthony, and the rest of the team returned to the edge of the swamp, back to the desolate cabin that had starred in Lauren’s nightmare last night. Only in her dreams, when she’d opened the worn door, she’d seen Karen inside.
Karen, covered in blood, even as she asked…Why didn’t you save me, Lauren? Why?
The sunlight was too bright and hot as it burst through the faint trickle of clouds. Insects were buzzing, and at least two cop cars waited near Walker’s old cabin.
She stood by the SUV, far too aware of Anthony’s body beside hers. They hadn’t said much on the drive over. She hadn’t known what to say. She’d glanced in his eyes—once—and seen a dark need staring back at her.
Sex had never been a problem for her and Anthony. Everything else? Yes.
“Looks like our party just got bigger,” Anthony murmured as another SUV pulled up behind them. This vehicle was silver. A man exited it first, a man with light-blond hair and broad shoulders. He wore a business suit, looking incredibly out of place in the swamp.
A woman exited next. She had black hair that slid lightly over her shoulders. She was slender, around five foot five, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. When she walked toward them, Lauren saw the holster under her arm.
“Marshal,” the man called out as a faint grin lifted his lips. “I was told we’d find you here.”
Lauren’s gaze swept over the two once more. She didn’t need to see their IDs to realize…“You’re FBI.”
The blond male gave a quick nod. “I’m Agent Kyle McKenzie, and this is Dr. Cadence Hollow.”
Cadence’s golden gaze assessed Anthony and Lauren. “We’ve been sent down to assist with the investigation.” She offered her hand to Lauren. “You’re DA Lauren Chandler.”
She took the offered hand. “And you’re the profiler who took down the serial ra**st in Iowa last spring.”
Cadence’s brows rose. “You know my work.”
Lauren gave a little nod as she dropped the woman’s hand. FBI Special Agent Cadence Hollow hadn’t just taken down the ra**st—she’d taken down plenty of other serials over the years. The woman’s name had been splashed in the paper plenty of times. Intent and eerily accurate, Cadence’s insights into the minds of killers had earned her favored status in the press.
“It’s good to see you again, Tony,” Cadence said as she glanced over at Anthony. “It’s been awhile.”
Lauren didn’t let her expression alter. Of course Anthony would know her. They both tracked killers, and she knew Anthony was often pretty tight with the FBI. But…the familiarity in the other woman’s tone, the intimate Tony—just how close were they?
I told him I didn’t want to know who he’d been with. She didn’t want to know, because she didn’t want the jealousy to knot in her gut.
“Sorry about everything that went down on the Valentine case,” Kyle murmured. “Wayne told us just how close you came on that one.”
Lauren glanced at Anthony from the corner of her eye. She knew they were talking about the case of the Valentine Killer. The notorious serial killer had finally been apprehended—and killed—months before in New Orleans.
According to the news reports she’d seen, Valentine had tried to kill Anthony, but the stories hadn’t provided a whole lot of specific information.
“Less than a minute, huh?” Kyle shook his head and gave a low whistle. “That’s cutting things real close, even for you, Marshal.”
Less than a minute?
Lauren’s eyes narrowed.
Anthony gave a rough shrug. “Not like I had a lot of choice. The bomb was ticking, and I figured I was about to get a close-up look at hell.”
Her cheeks numbed. Her entire body seemed to ice. Lauren stumbled back.
Cadence caught her arm, frowning. “Are you all right?”
No, she wasn’t. Had Anthony just said he’d been a minute away from dying in a bomb’s blast?
“The swamp isn’t for everyone,” a man’s low, rumbling voice said before Lauren could reply. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that two others had joined their little party. Paul and the man speaking. Tall, dark, and definitely dressed for trekking through a swamp.
The man wasn’t a stranger to Lauren. He couldn’t be—she’d known him far too long. Wesley Hawthorne worked for Fish and Wildlife.
He’d just been starting as an agent for Fish and Wildlife five years before, when he’d been pulled in to help search the swamp for more of the Butcher’s victims. He’d been the one to lead the searches back then.