by Cynthia Eden
On the other side of that glass, Dawn turned on her heel and grabbed for the door. She yanked it open and vanished from the interrogation room in mere moments. Macey spun toward the glass and mouthed, I’m sorry, because she knew that she’d given him away.
It didn’t matter. Dawn had always been smart. Once she’d realized what was happening, it hadn’t taken her long to realize that he’d been pulled down to the city.
And it had taken no time at all for her to run from him, just as he’d feared. He squared his shoulders and headed for the door, more than ready to get out of that damn observation room. He’d get Macey and they’d head over to see what the coroner had discovered. Then—
Before he could reach it, the door flew open.
“You can’t go in there!” A man’s desperate voice cracked.
But she was already there. Dawn stood just inside the doorway, breathing hard, her eyes locked on his face. “Found you.”
The uniformed officer tried to grab her arm. “I told you, Dawn, that room is off-limits. You know better—”
“Let her go,” Tucker said flatly. “We need to talk.” He leveled his gaze at the officer. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the guy’s name. “Alone.”
“You heard him, Higgins,” Dawn muttered. “He wants to be alone with me.”
The officer immediately backed away.
Dawn took a step forward and she shut the door behind her.
Tucker kept his hands at his sides. He tried to figure out just what in the hell he was supposed to say to her. The silence stretched a little too long—uncomfortably long. Her gaze was on his face, sweeping over his features one at a time, and he knew what she was thinking.
I look even more like him now. Time had thinned his face more, hardened him, and when he looked in the mirror, most days Tucker swore he saw his brother staring back at him.
He cleared his throat. “You...you look good, Dawn.”
She blinked.
Shit. That had been the wrong thing to say. He wanted to yank his hand over his face or pace or do something to get rid of the fierce energy pulsing through him.
“That’s what you have to say to me? After all this time?” Her voice was still husky, but he could have sworn he heard an echo of pain in it.
He’d always hated her pain.
“Why didn’t you come in there to tell me about this case?” She put her hands on her hips as she stared up at him. “Why send in your partner?”
He wouldn’t lie to her. “Because I knew you didn’t want to see me.” That was the same reason he’d left her so long ago. Why he hadn’t talked to her in the last seven years.
“You know bullshit.” She shook her head. Her blond hair hit her sharp cheeks. “No, you just know your own fear. You don’t know anything about me or what I want.”
Her words surprised him and he took a quick step toward her. But...
She tensed. He saw it and the telling movement knifed right through him.
No, Dawn. I do know you. Better than you know yourself. I always knew you.
The problem was that she hadn’t truly known him. He’d been afraid for her to know the truth. He was still afraid. You won’t like who I really am.
“What’s happening in this city? Who killed that poor woman?”
“I don’t know.” He’d be finding out soon. “We thought you had a right to hear about the crime first, before any news leaked to the media.” He hadn’t wanted her learning about this killer when she turned on the five o’clock news.
“Maybe that’s true, but I also think you wanted to see my reaction. You know, just in case I’d gone psycho and started killing like Jason.” She pursed her lips, as if thinking about that situation. “What would that be? Some serious PTSD shit, right? Your buddy Macey sure acted as if it were a possibility.”
“Dawn...”
“He didn’t break me.” Her eyes glittered at him. “I get that you think he did. I get that you think I was so shattered by what happened that you left—”
“That wasn’t what—”
“But I’m stronger than he was. I’m stronger than you gave me credit for being.”
He’d always thought she was the strongest woman he’d ever met.
“I’m strong,” she said again, “and I want in on this investigation.”
It took a moment for her words to register. Then he could only blink and shake his head. “What?”
She pulled her ID out of the small bag that was slung over her shoulder. She advanced toward him and her scent—soft, vanilla—wrapped around Tucker, reminding him of things he should forget. Of things he had no business remembering right then. “I’m a PI now. A damn good one. I know this city, I know the people here and I want in on the investigation.”
He glanced at her ID, but he’d already known she was a PI. He’d researched her... He’d peeked into her life many times over the years. He’d always thought that, one day, he’d check up on her and discover that she was married. That she had a family. That she was happy.
He’d both longed for her happiness and feared it. Because I couldn’t imagine her with anyone else.
“I want in,” Dawn said again, her expression determined.
Tucker shook his head. “It’s a preliminary investigation. And right now, the local authorities are handling things. We’re here in a backup capacity, just in town long enough to prove that the killer isn’t Jason Frost...and to assist the NOPD in finding the man who murdered that victim.”
Her delicate jaw hardened. “What makes you so sure?”
He didn’t understand her question.
She took another step toward him even as she shoved her ID back into her bag. “They didn’t find his body. His body was never found.”
He could hear the drumming of his heartbeat. That dull thud seemed to shake his eardrums.
“What makes you so sure this isn’t Jason? Your partner was talking about a copycat, talking about some guy who might just be taking advantage of Jason’s MO...” Another step toward him.
Tucker locked down his muscles, refusing to move so much as an inch.
“Tell me, Tucker. The truth. Why don’t you think it could be Jason?”
He couldn’t believe she was saying this to him. “Because he’s dead, Dawn. Jason Frost is dead.” The idea that she still thought his brother might be hunting—
Oh, Dawn. I am so sorry. So sorry for the pain he is still bringing you.
“No body, no proof.” Her stare was unflinching.
She was absolutely serious. “You think my brother is still alive?” He reached out and his hands curled around her shoulders. She stiffened and immediately pulled away.
He let go. Just like he always did.
“No, Dawn.” He made his voice flat with an effort. “I shot him that day. I killed him. He is gone.”
“I thought so, too, but...” Her lips parted, as if she’d say more.
A knock sounded on the door. “Tucker...” Macey’s voice drifted through the closed door. “The coroner just called. She wants to see us.”
“Let me work this case with you,” Dawn said. Her voice was almost pleading. He hated for her to plead. Dawn should never have to beg anyone for anything.
But Tucker shook his head. “This case could be about to end with the coroner’s report.”
Her eyes turned to angry slits. “I don’t like being shut out.”
There was no choice that he could see right then. He couldn’t pull her in, not with the local cops running the show.
She spun on her heel and yanked open the door. Macey hurriedly stepped aside.
“Dawn!” He couldn’t let her go like this. God, I missed her. So fucking much.
She paused.
“After I meet with the coron
er, I want us to talk again.” I’ll share what I learn. He could give her that much. He hoped that she could see the message in his eyes.
Her head moved in a grim nod, and then she was gone, cutting through the station and leaving him behind.
Macey didn’t speak until Dawn was long gone, and then she let out a soft sigh. “That did not go well.”
Fucking understatement.
“Could have gone worse,” Anthony noted as he joined their little group. “Dawn has one hell of a temper when you get her going.”
Dawn? She’d never had a temper before. Seven years ago, she’d been the most easygoing woman he’d ever met. Always sweet to everyone. Always kind.
And why the hell was the detective speaking as if he knew her so well? Intimately?
“Ah, right, we haven’t been officially introduced yet.” Anthony offered his hand at Tucker’s questioning glance. “Detective Anthony Deveraux.”
Tucker shook his hand. The guy had a solid grip.
Anthony smiled at him. “You’re his brother, huh?”
“Yes,” he gritted, “I’m his brother.”
Anthony’s smile dimmed. “When I first met Dawn, I made a point of...learning everything about her.” His stare was assessing as it slid over Tucker. “I don’t think she was happy to see you.”
He knows Dawn and I were involved. Once upon a time, everyone had known. Their story had been too sensational for the reporters to pass up. Her lover’s brother tortured her. He tried to kill her.
“No,” Tucker murmured, “I don’t think she was.” And her words kept ringing in his head, playing over and over again.
No body, no proof.
He hadn’t realized until that very moment just how much his brother still haunted her.
CHAPTER FOUR
“THE KILLER TOOK his time with our victim.” Dr. Julia Bradford, the Orleans Parish coroner, moved briskly around the lab. She spoke with sympathy flowing in her voice. “There were over a dozen knife wounds to her body.”
“A dozen?” Macey repeated. He saw her eyes briefly close. “That poor woman.”
Macey always responded to the victims because she knew them so well.
She knew what it was like to feel their pain.
“Many of those wounds were shallow.” The coroner’s hand moved toward the victim’s face. “Like these here on the cheek...”
“As if the killer was just getting started,” Tucker muttered, disgust rising in him. It wasn’t a disgust he’d allow to show. All of his emotions were locked down right then, and he’d keep them locked tight.
The way he always did. Seeing Dawn had rattled him, and he was having to fight harder to keep his control in place.
“But here...” Dr. Bradford’s glove-covered hand moved to the victim’s neck and the mark there. “As you can see, the wounds became deeper.”
“Dawn has a scar like that one,” Anthony said, leaning closer to the body.
Tucker’s gaze swept over him.
“The wound is deeper here, too.” Dr. Bradford’s hand went to the woman’s right shoulder.
“Dawn has—” Anthony began.
“I know where her scars are,” Tucker growled. But Dawn didn’t have over a dozen scars, thank Christ. Tucker had stopped Jason before the bastard could finish his ritual on her.
Anthony’s brows rose. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat even as a light flush stained his cheeks. “I was just pointing out that the wounds seem to be following the Iceman’s pattern.”
Because the Iceman had used a particular pattern with his victims. A very thorough pattern designed for maximum pain and disfigurement. But not for death.
“I compared the wounds on our Jane Doe with the wound patterns from the Iceman’s attacks,” Julia said. “They’re the same.”
Tucker and Macey shared a long glance. Not good. But they’d already suspected this. When they’d first gotten the crime scene photos, the similarity had been obvious. However, a similarity was one thing...an exact copy was another entirely.
“The wounds didn’t kill her...” She took a deep breath. “They weren’t severe enough for that. Just like with the Iceman, no major arteries were damaged. The wounds were given to inflict pain, to maim, but not to kill.” Dr. Bradford swallowed as jazz music played lightly in the background. “Our victim died in the freezer.”
“Shit,” Anthony muttered. He backed away from the exam table. “Talk about torture. She was in there, knowing she was dying, knowing there was no way out. Freezing to freaking death.”
The Iceman’s MO.
“I’m running her DNA, hoping for a hit on her identity.” Julia’s lips turned down. “Her fingerprints weren’t in the system, though.”
“We should release her photo to the media,” Anthony said, nodding. “She could have family out there, people who can identify her. People who are looking for her.”
“Those same people haven’t filed a missing person’s report for her,” Macey stated quietly. “Don’t you think that is odd?”
Anthony didn’t speak.
So Tucker did. “Maybe she didn’t have family,” he said. “Or maybe they just weren’t close any longer. Families grow apart. Everyone knows that.”
Julia covered the victim. She took off her gloves and tossed them into the trash. She turned to face them, her dark cream skin smooth and unlined. She was a young doctor, he knew that, but he’d done some checking on her. Julia Bradford had graduated at the top of her class at Tulane. She was smart, thorough and well respected by the prosecutors in the area. She might be new on the scene, but she knew how to do her job. They weren’t going to have to face amateur hour on this one.
“How long was she in there?” Tucker asked her.
Julia hesitated.
“If we know how long she was frozen,” he said, “we can figure out more information about the man who took her.”
“Freezing the victim helped to obscure her time of death.” She shook her head. “I’m working on that, but...I don’t have a definitive time for you. Considering the way she was stored, I doubt I’ll ever have that for you.”
Exactly what Dawn had said...and, unfortunately, what he’d suspected given his own knowledge of forensics. “Did you find any evidence on her?” Tucker asked. “Skin cells beneath her fingernails? Fibers or—”
“Her wrists were tied together when we pulled her out of the freezer. From what I can tell, she never had the opportunity to fight back.” Sorrow flashed on Julia’s face. “The killer was very organized, I can tell you that. No trace evidence was left behind.”
So basically, they had jackshit. “I want to see the crime scene.”
Anthony nodded. “Sure thing, but...the freezer was transferred to Evidence. We ran a check on the serial number and got a hit because, years ago, the freezer was registered under warranty. We found that owner, but it turned out that she’d put the freezer out as garbage two years ago. She thought it was hauled to the dump. Hell, maybe it was...or maybe someone just took it when they saw it outside. Either way...we turned up empty when it came to tracking it.”
Son of a bitch. “I’ll be wanting to talk to that woman.”
Anthony shrugged. “Yeah, okay, but I already interviewed her. She didn’t know anything about the case and when I told her about just what had been found inside of the freezer...I thought she was going to have a heart attack.”
His attention shifted back to the woman in that freezer. “She has a name. She has a family.”
“She had a life,” Macey murmured.
Had. Until some sick bastard stole that life.
“Someone is looking for her,” Tucker said. Somewhere out there, someone was looking.
But Anthony shook his head. “Maybe they’re not.” He paced near the exam table as the co
roner watched him. “Jules, you know as well as I do that the lost flock to our city. The Big Easy is a great place if you’re looking to escape a troubled past. If you just walk down Canal, you’ll see our homeless. Those are people that slip under the radar every day. People who could vanish and...” His lips tightened. “And no one would be looking for them.”
Tucker cocked his head as he studied the victim’s covered body once more. “She didn’t look malnourished. Her hair was cut neatly and...” Now his stare darted to Julia. “Any sign of needle marks or drug use?”
“No. Other than the knife wounds, there were no marks on her at all. No distinguishing birthmarks. No tattoos. Nothing that stood out.”
He nodded. “I don’t think she lived on the streets.”
“That doesn’t mean she wasn’t running from someone,” Anthony continued doggedly. “Hell, just ask Dawn. People come here for a fresh start. ’Cause they are trying to escape someone or something.”
Tucker’s shoulders stiffened. “I know plenty about Dawn.”
“No,” Anthony denied, “I’m not so sure you do.”
The guy was pissing him off. He took a breath, focused. Keep your control always. And a dick detective wasn’t going to get beneath his skin. Tucker motioned toward Macey. “Dr. Bradford, my partner, Macey Night, has her medical degree.”
Julia’s brows rose. “So you want to review my findings?” She jumped right to the point, but didn’t seem upset or territorial, responses that Tucker had certainly seen in the past.
“I’d like to assist you,” Macey clarified. “Because when it comes to serials, I have experience.”
That was an understatement.
“Sometimes I can see things—particularly relating to a killer’s signature—that might be missed during the course of a normal exam.”
Julia nodded her head toward a box of white exam gloves. “Help yourself. I’m not into any pissing match, so you want to help me find justice for this woman?” She nodded grimly. “Then I appreciate the help.”
And while Macey was working with the coroner, Tucker had plans of his own. “Thanks for your time, Doctor,” he said to Julia. Then he made his way outside. Anthony was right behind him. He waited until they’d left the coroner’s building, when they were outside—and then he turned on the guy. “Just what is the nature of your relationship with Dawn Alexander?” The words came out quiet, flat, as he stared at the other man.