The press would know what was happening. Anthony had already made sure of it with a fast phone tip to some of Lauren’s contacts. No one would forget Jenny Chandler or the other victims.
Lauren’s steps were slow, her shoulders sagging, as she headed toward him.
He caught her hand before she could open the door to the morgue.
“No, not yet.”
Dark circles lined her eyes, from pain, horror, and grief that were ravaging her. He wanted to take it all away. He wanted to find the bastard who’d made her hurt and destroy him. Death would be too easy.
The man needed to suffer, as he’d made Lauren suffer. And Jenny suffer. And all the others.
He glanced over his shoulder. He saw an empty room and pulled Lauren toward it.
“Anthony, what—”
His mouth took hers. He had to kiss her. He wanted her to feel something, anything, but sadness and grief. He wanted her to know she was alive, dammit, and there was still hope.
Hope for her. For them.
But he could taste the salt of her tears. He hated the taste of her grief. Lauren should know joy.
I will kill the bastard.
Her arms curled around him. Her lips parted, and she kissed him back with an almost desperate need.
Her body trembled, but she pressed tightly to him. Her nails sank into his arms as she rose onto her toes.
Her lips broke from his, just long enough for her to whisper, “Make it stop.”
He stared into her eyes. Saw the gleam of tears.
“I can’t breathe. It hurts so much. Just make it stop.”
He kissed her again. His fingers sank into her hair. He angled her head up so he could take her mouth. Her lips. Her tongue. There was desperation in the kiss, a maelstrom of lust and need. And fury. For what had been lost. For the dangers that waited ahead.
The nightmare hadn’t ended with the discovery of the body.
Would it ever end?
“I want to take you out of here,” he told her, growling the words when their mouths parted again. “I want you with me. I want to help you.”
“You have.” Her words were ragged.
His hold tightened on her. “Lauren…”
She pulled in another deep breath, and eased away from him. He could see her trying to school her expression, but she looked so damn fragile—breakable—that it tore into him. He wanted to stand between her and any pain.
Every pain.
But he couldn’t stop the agony she was feeling, and it drove him crazy. She wanted it to stop, she’d asked him to make it stop.
I will.
“I have to see the ME,” Lauren murmured. “I have to talk to him about Jenny.”
“I’m going with you.” He’d waited for her, because he’d be damned if he let her walk into that room of death alone.
She gave a small nod. “Thank you.”
Screw thanks. He caught her hand. “When we’re done, I’m taking you out of here with me. You’re not staying on your own.”
“I’ve still got U.S. marshal protection?”
“You’ve got me.” Always.
“Thank you.”
There it was again. He didn’t want her gratitude. Just her. As long as the killer was on the loose, Anthony didn’t plan on letting Lauren spend any nights alone. Walker had targeted her, so what was to say the second killer wouldn’t, too? With Walker’s death, the man might be jonesing for vengeance. Just like Walker.
He followed her out of the room. When he opened the door, he saw Paul heading down the hallway, making a determined march for the ME’s office. When Paul saw them coming from the darkened room, he paused. One brow lifted.
Anthony leveled a hard stare back at him.
Paul cleared his throat, then held open the door that would take them all in to see Dr. Death.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“We’re in the process of obtaining your sister’s dental records,” Greg said as he stood beside the carefully covered remains. “Once we have those, we’ll be able to see—”
“They’ll show it’s Jenny.” Lauren was certain Jenny was wrapped up in that bag. Lauren had never needed the icy wall she used to separate herself from others more than in that moment. On the inside, she was falling apart. No, splintering. On the outside, her hands were flat at her sides. Her body still.
Greg glanced at Anthony, then back at her. “No jewelry was found at the scene.”
“She had on a necklace when she disappeared.” Her words were quiet and calm, a direct contrast to the scream inside of her. “A cross my mom had given her.” Given them both, the last Christmas they’d had together. Lauren still had her cross, nestled in the bottom of her jewelry box at home.
The home she couldn’t enter any longer.
“We’ve still got crews searching the area,” Paul said as he slid into a nearby chair. Pain and exhaustion were etched onto his face. “They might find it.”
“Not if the killer took it,” Lauren said. Her lips twisted. “Walker took jewelry from his victims. If Cadence is right and Walker learned from his partner, then maybe he saw this man taking jewelry, too, and figured he’d keep little mementos as well.”
“Trophies,” Paul growled.
Yes, that was the perfect word.
“Are the cadaver dogs hunting?” Anthony asked.
Paul gave a grim nod.
The killer might have buried other victims close by.
“Her shirt was covered in blood,” Greg said as he backed away from the table. “Maybe we’ll get lucky. He could have left his own DNA behind.”
“He cut off her hands.” Paul’s words were as quiet as Lauren’s had been. They hit her with a brutal punch. “The guy knew how to make sure he didn’t leave DNA evidence behind. She probably scratched him, and he took the hands to make sure we wouldn’t track him.”
The kill had been so long ago. Before DNA testing had really advanced.
Lauren’s lashes swept down as the sound of her heartbeat filled her ears. “Was she still alive when he—”
“No.” Greg said quickly.
Good. Her lashes lifted. She met his stare. Anthony had stepped closer to her, and the heat from his body seemed to reach out and surround her.
“That’s actually the odd thing,” Greg added. “From what I can tell, the perp didn’t originally cut off her hands. He went back and did that…later.”
She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.
“He got smarter,” Anthony said from beside her.
Sicker.