Before the Dawn--A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Cynthia Eden

  Where is he?

  How had he vanished so fast?

  And...if he wanted me dead, then why didn’t he take that shot?

  “He dropped the phone.” Tucker pointed to the ground but didn’t touch the phone that was there. Probably because he didn’t want to smudge any prints. But the guy in the ski mask...he’d been wearing gloves. “This way!” He headed down the small alleyway next to that phone. She followed him, but she didn’t see any sign of the bastard who’d attacked her.

  With every step she took, her heart grew heavier. He was right there, and now he’s gone.

  * * *

  HE’D WANTED TO take Dawn with him. To put her in the back of the vehicle he had waiting. To slip away with her into the city.

  To spend hours working on her. Making her like the pain.

  But she hadn’t come alone. She hadn’t followed the simple freaking instructions that he’d given to her.

  So he’d had to improvise.

  He slipped between the buildings, moving like a ghost. He could hear Frost yelling for him. He could hear the desperate tread of their feet as they searched.

  They weren’t going to find him. They weren’t going to stop him. He would get away...

  And he’d live to hunt Dawn another day.

  You’re afraid of me, Dawn. I saw it. You’re afraid of me...

  And you’re afraid of him.

  Just the way it should be.

  Killing Dawn wasn’t the point. If it had been, she would be bleeding out in the alley. She needed to suffer. She needed to fear.

  He needed to finish the work that Jason Frost had started.

  And when he was done, Dawn would be frozen and Tucker would be destroyed.

  He’d left Jinx’s phone behind deliberately. Placed it into position before he ran the opposite way. He wanted them to find all the pictures he’d left on that phone. Another part of his plan.

  The plan had been so long in the making. He’d been so careful, and soon...soon he’d get the ending he’d wanted all along.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I’M GOING IN that interrogation.” Tucker glared toward the one-way mirror. “That little prick in there saw the killer. He took money from him to take a shot at me, and he’s going to tell me exactly who we are after.”

  Dawn glanced between him and Anthony. The tension in the room was so thick it nearly suffocated her. The man in the ski mask had vanished, but the kid in the other room—the one with bleached-blond hair and too-pale skin who couldn’t seem to stop shaking—he’d been arrested.

  The guy didn’t seem to get just how much trouble he was in. When you shot at an FBI agent, you didn’t get to walk away. But the blond kept asking when he’d be let go.

  No time soon.

  Malone was okay, thank God. The cops had found him at his home. He’d left his phone at his office after he’d gotten the news about Jinx, and he’d gone on a serious bender. The uniforms who’d gone to his house had said he’d smelled like a case of cheap beer.

  “The FBI has rank on this one,” Tucker continued. “I want my run at him first, then you and your guys can have him.”

  Bowen stood beside Dawn, watching the scene unfold. He’d been silent, just as she had, though she doubted it was for the same reason.

  The guy got to me. He’d scared her in that little alleyway. Because the things he’d said...Jason had said them, too. How had the guy known that? Those words had been burned in her memory. Word for word.

  Anthony inclined his head. “It’s your show, but I’m telling you now...that kid is as high as a freaking kite. His pupils are pinpricks, he can’t stop shaking and I caught the dumbass singing a few minutes ago. I don’t think he’s going to be able to give us jackshit.”

  Dawn’s gaze slid back to the glass. That was her fear, too. She could see all the same telltale signs that Anthony had just noticed. She knew he was right.

  Anthony headed toward her. He paused at her side, and his hand came up toward her face.

  She stiffened. “Anthony?”

  He almost touched her lip, but seemed to catch himself. “I’m sorry you were hurt.” And he shot a glare toward Tucker. “I was assured your safety was a priority.”

  Over his shoulder, she saw Tucker’s jaw clench.

  “I’m okay.” Her voice was flat. She wasn’t going to let any emotion slip out.

  “It’s obvious he’s after her.” Finally, Bowen spoke. “He was trying to lure her out to him. We have to be on guard, no more mistakes.”

  Tucker marched toward the door. “No more mistakes.” His words were clipped but she knew his anger was directed at himself. He’d barely stopped long enough to get his arm checked out. The bullet had clipped him, but he hadn’t seemed to care about the pain. An EMT had patched him up at the scene, and Tucker had been stoically silent the whole time. A few quick stitches, no anesthesia. And right back to work he went.

  He opened the door and headed out. Anthony cast one last look at Dawn, and then he followed on Tucker’s heels.

  Dawn’s breath eased out slowly as she moved for a better position in the observation room. She’d never seen that blond guy before in her life. His gaze kept darting around the room, not lingering for more than a few seconds on anything. And his fingers were tapping on the table. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “He is higher than a damn kite,” Bowen growled.

  Yes, he was.

  “You sure you’re all right?”

  She bit her lip. She hadn’t told Tucker about the man’s words...mostly because the bastard had been talking about Tucker and it had just—

  No. Fear had kept her silent. Stupid fear. “A few bruises, nothing more.” Her spine straightened. She wouldn’t give in to the terror again. She wouldn’t.

  She saw the door to the interrogation room open. Tucker stepped inside, with Anthony right at his heels. The blond took one look at them, and terror flashed on his face. He jumped to his feet, throwing out his hands.

  “Stay the hell away from me, man!” Spittle flew from his mouth. “Get away!”

  Tucker raised a brow. “Calm down.”

  But the blond wasn’t calming down. At Tucker’s voice, he gave a yell and he...he launched right at Tucker.

  Tucker just stood there, letting the guy come at him. At the last moment, he twisted his body so that the blond missed him totally. Then Tucker spun around and grabbed the kid’s arms, jerking him back. Tucker wrapped one hand around the blond’s throat and held him, effortlessly. “That’s the second time you’ve attacked a federal agent, buddy. You must really want to spend the rest of your life in a cell.” He let him go, putting his hands on his hips as he studied the younger fellow.

  Anthony was silent as he shut the door to the interrogation room and watched the other men.

  “No!” the blond yelled. “This isn’t happening.” He yanked up his hands and pressed his fingers to his eyes. He nearly jabbed his fingertips into his eye sockets. “Just scaring you. Just scaring you!”

  “Who wanted you to scare him?” Anthony asked. His voice was calm and cool. Easy. “Tell me, and we can help you out.”

  The blond stilled.

  “We know your name, Rowan,” Anthony continued. “Rowan Jacobs. You came up in our database. Seems you’ve had a few brushes with the law. Some small-time thefts, a drug possession...but you were a kid back then. According to the files I have, you turned eighteen two months ago.” He whistled. “That means trouble for you, Rowan. Big trouble.”

  Rowan shook his head. “No. No!”

  Tucker stepped toward him. “You said someone paid you. That’s the man I want, Rowan. Tell me what he looked like. Talk to me, and I’ll help you.”

  Rowan retreated until his back was pressed to the one-way glass.

 
“That kid is terrified,” Bowen murmured.

  Dawn couldn’t take her gaze off the scene before her.

  “B-blue eyes,” Rowan stuttered suddenly. “Big, over six feet. Strong.” His words came in rapid fire succession. “Dark hair.”

  Tucker’s stare hardened on him. “Going to need a whole hell of a lot more than that, kid. You just described—”

  “Him,” Bowen said as his voice sharpened. “The kid’s half-ass description could be Tucker.”

  “—about a million people,” Tucker snapped at the same time. “So you’re going to have to get real specific, real quick—”

  Rowan whirled to face the mirror. “He sees you.”

  He was staring straight at Dawn.

  “He sees you,” he said again and Rowan slammed his head into the mirror. Once, twice, and the mirror cracked beneath the impact of his blows. Dawn let out a horrified gasp as she saw the blood trickling over the glass. Blood poured down Rowan’s face, but he pulled back, seemingly about to slam his head forward once more.

  “Stop!” Dawn yelled.

  Tucker had leaped forward. He grabbed Rowan.

  “Medic!” Anthony was yelling. He’d yanked open the door to the interrogation room. “We need a medic in here!”

  Dawn and Bowen ran out of the observation room. They rushed inside the interrogation room, crowding close to Tucker.

  The kid was unconscious, the rough trembles of his body stilled. He barely seemed to be breathing. Blood poured from the gashes in his forehead.

  “What in the fuck was that?” Bowen bent next to the fallen man.

  Tucker looked up at Dawn. She stood there, heart racing, as more uniformed officers filled the room.

  He sees you.

  * * *

  TUCKER EASED OUT a low breath and opened the door at the police station. The door led to a small conference room—and to Dawn. She stood up when he entered the room, worry flashing on her face.

  Get your shit together, man. Do it now.

  “We knew he was high... The kid is messed up. Rowan is being kept under medical supervision now.” Because the guy had split his head wide-open. “We’re not going to get anything from him for a while.”

  He moved closer to her. He could see the cut on her lower lip. The bruise on her cheek. The scrapes on her hands. Those marks pissed him off. They’d happened on his watch. He should have—

  “I didn’t tell you everything.”

  He stopped in front of her.

  Her long lashes lifted and her gaze locked with his.

  “I didn’t tell you all the things he...he said to me in the alley.”

  He had to touch her. Carefully, the back of his hand slid over her cheek. That bruise didn’t belong there. She should never have been—

  Dawn caught his hand. “I didn’t tell you everything that Jason said back then, either, and I...I didn’t tell you everything that the man in the ski mask said today.”

  Shock pulsed through him.

  “I didn’t tell anyone all of the things that Jason said. No, no, that’s not true. I told my psychiatrist.” She licked her lips. “Just him. No one else. I was too afraid to tell the cops. I didn’t...I didn’t want them to look at you with suspicion.”

  He could only shake his head.

  “Do you remember how I hid from you in those woods?” She blinked quickly and inhaled. “You shot Jason and I hid. You kept calling to me, but I didn’t come out right away.”

  And he’d been fucking terrified. Yes, he remembered. As if he could ever forget.

  “Jason said you were coming to the cabin to kill me. That you’d been using me all along.”

  Every muscle in his body tensed. Tucker shook his head, denying what she was saying. Denying that he’d ever hurt her.

  “He said he was keeping me alive so that you could get there and join the fun. That you’d f-fucked me—” she tripped over that word “—and now you were going to kill me.”

  He stared at her as pain cut into his heart. “That’s why you ran from me when I first got there.” Why she’d fallen into the water.

  “Jason said he wasn’t acting alone. He said the press should call the two of you Icemen, not Iceman.” She wet her lips. “He said he was working with someone...and that someone was you.”

  “No.” The word came out too hard, too rough. But he needed her to understand. “It wasn’t me. He was lying to you. He wanted to hurt you.” And me. “I was never involved, baby, I swear it.”

  Her breath came in quick pants. “The man in the ski mask...he said the same thing to me. The words...they were Jason’s words. ‘I’m going to teach you to like pain.’”

  Those were words burned into Tucker’s mind. Not because they were Jason’s. But because they’d been their father’s words.

  I’ll make you sorry pieces of shit like the pain. You’ll stop screaming soon enough.

  He had to swallow the lump in his throat.

  “The man in the ski mask...he said he was waiting for you, so the fun could start.”

  Tucker didn’t blink. He didn’t move at all. The rage inside of him was so strong he was afraid if he moved, his control would shatter.

  This case is wrecking me. “No.” One word. That was all he could manage.

  “Then the kid described someone who could be you.” She lifted her hands and pressed them to his chest. “You look like Jason. Jason’s body wasn’t found. The words were the same, and I swear...even the voice sounded the same to me. He’s back. I think Jason is back.” Her voice broke.

  A sharp knock sounded on the door.

  “Agent Frost?” He recognized Samantha’s voice. “We need to talk.”

  “I wasn’t the only one holding back secrets.” He said the words softly to Dawn.

  “I didn’t want the cops looking at you with suspicion. You’d been through enough. We both had.”

  “I was never working with him.” He might have been screwed up, he might have enjoyed a taste for too much darkness, but he’d never turned into a cold-blooded killer. He would never hurt an innocent.

  “Frost!” Samantha’s voice was sharper. “I need you and Dawn in the meeting room, now.” Her heels tapped smartly away from the door.

  Tucker stepped away from Dawn. Stepped away when he wanted to pull her close. To wrap his arms around her and not let go.

  But they were at the police station. His boss waited. And the case...the case came first.

  Only she is the case. She’s the priority.

  He turned away from her and opened the door. He held it open while Dawn walked ahead of him. Their group had taken over the big meeting space at the end of the hall, and when he went inside, he saw the tactical board that the unit had prepared.

  The victims’ pictures were on that board. Pictures of them when they were alive, happy, and then pictures of them when the killer had finished with them.

  “The reporters have this story.” Samantha stood near the board. Macey and Bowen were seated at the table. No one else was in the room. She inclined her head toward Dawn. “And they have your past. They know who you are. They’ve made the connection. The headlines running today are that the Iceman is back. He’s killing again.”

  “He’s dead,” Tucker gritted. How many times would he have to say it? He blew out a breath and paced toward the tactical board. “It’s not Jason we have to worry about. This killer... I think he’s far more dangerous than Jason ever was.” And that was saying one hell of a lot. “Jason had a certain victim type.”

  “Attractive young women,” Bowen added. “College coeds.”

  Tucker’s gaze slid to Dawn. She hadn’t taken a seat. She stood just inside the doorway, watching them.

  “Yes.” He didn’t move his gaze off her. “And he killed them in a ritualist
ic manner. He used his knife to cut them, marking them. Never slicing deep enough to kill. Just enough that his brand would always be on their skin.”

  She wasn’t looking away from him.

  “He put his victims in the freezer. Not because that was another form of torture, but because he wanted to keep the victims with him. To stop time. No decomposition, no destruction. He would literally freeze the women when they were his. He meant for them to stay that way, forever.” He pointed to the board, to the first victim, Heather Hartley. “This killer isn’t focused on owning his victims. He’s sending a message instead. I believe he called in the tip about the body because he didn’t want time to be wasted. He wanted the cops to find the victim as soon as possible. He wanted us down here.” No, that wasn’t exactly true. His gaze slid to Samantha. “He wanted me down here. He wanted me here and he knew I’d come as soon as I heard about the type of kill that had been discovered.”

  There had been no option for him.

  “He approached his second victim, Jinx Donahue, because of her tie to Dawn. He wanted access to Dawn’s home, and he wanted to learn as much information about her as he could.” His gaze cut to Jinx’s picture. “Then he eliminated her.”

  “I don’t remember seeing any men with Jinx,” Dawn said softly. “She never brought anyone home, not that I saw. She never introduced me to anyone—”

  “That would have been deliberate,” Macey cut in. “He would have made sure that you never crossed paths. Not until he was ready.”

  “It’s a trap.” Tucker hated saying the truth. “Everything he’s done...it’s been to close his web around you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And me. I’m just as much a part of this as you are. The guy wants me involved. He wanted me here, and he has me.” Now he moved toward the photo of Red. “Jason Frost would never have killed this way. Red wasn’t his victim type. The perp we’re after—he used a swift, brutal method to kill. He was eliminating a witness, nothing more, nothing less.”