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 coroner 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.
Anthony blinked. His expression was bemused. “Excuse me?”
“Do you have a personal relationship with her? Because that’s something I need to know about.” Right the hell then.
Anthony’s face tightened. “Look—”
“No, you look. We have a killer imitating the Iceman in New Orleans, the same city that the Iceman’s only surviving victim just happens to live in. And then we have you...the detective who found the body based on a tip. Then I learn that you and Dawn... You two seem close. I’m thinking the killer knew that, too, and that’s why he chose you to receive the tip.” His breath felt cold in his lungs. “So I’m going to ask again, just what is the nature of your relationship with Dawn Alexander?”
A muscle flexed in Anthony’s jaw. “We’re friends. I help her on cases and she helps me.”
Friends. “Nothing more?”
Anthony’s mouth opened.
“No, nothing more.”
That had not been Anthony responding. Tucker glanced to the right and saw Dawn step from the side of the building. She came toward him with slow, determined steps.
“Eavesdropping?” Tucker demanded.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear. “I’ve found that cops don’t always want to share directly with me. But you’d be surprised what you can pick up from folks if you just stop...and listen.”
And hide out of sight.
“I need to get back to the station,” Anthony mumbled. “Captain Hatch is going to be wanting a report from me. Agent Frost, we’ll finish this conversation later.”
“Nothing left to finish,” Dawn said. “I think I gave him a solid answer for us both.”
“Dawn...” Anthony’s voice had a warning edge. “Watch your step with him. The FBI might not play as nicely with you as the NOPD does.”
She didn’t speak until Anthony was gone. Then she swept her gaze over Tucker. “I asked you to play nicely before, but you shut me out of the investigation.” She shook her head. “That’s okay. I don’t give up easily.”
Obviously not.
“You followed me here?” Tucker asked.
She smiled. For an instant, he could have sworn that his heart stopped.
“Don’t be silly. I know where the coroner’s office is. Julia and I go out for beignets every Thursday.” She paused. “And po’boys on Tuesdays.”
So she had an in with the coroner. “You’re planning to get her to tell you what she’s learned on the case?”
Her smile dimmed. “I was actually hoping you would tell me what you learned.” She paused a beat. “Is it him?”
Him? And he found himself reaching for her. This time, he was prepared when she flinched away from his touch, but he still kept his hands wrapped around her shoulders. “Jason Frost is dead.”
“Was the MO the same? Was the pattern of slices the same?”
“Yes,” he ground out, “but...”
“Was she alive when he put her into the freezer?”
He didn’t speak but he could tell by the way her face paled that his silence was answer enough.
“So...” Dawn licked her lips. “If this is a copycat, we’re dealing with someone who has closely studied Jason’s work. To get all of the wounds just right, to attack with a knife that many times...”
“I’m going to find the guy,” Tucker swore. “I will stop him.”
Her thick lashes swept down, concealing her gaze. “Right. That’s what you do now, hmm? No more out saving the world by fighting the secret missions you couldn’t talk about with me. These days, you go after monsters much closer to home.”
Because I had monsters in my home.
“I want in on this investigation.” She was still not looking at him. “I need in on it.”
“I get that you want closure.” Oh, hell, yes, he got that. “But the FBI doesn’t pull in civilians when—”
Her gaze flew up and he saw the anger burning in her eyes. “I’m not a civilian. I’m a PI. My specialty is missing person cases, and I am very good at my job.”
And I don’t want you in danger. Not on my watch.
“You’re going to say no again.” She backed away—no, pulled away.
His hands fell to his sides.
“Why can’t you see that I’m not the same broken woman you knew before?”
Her words pierced right through him. “I never thought you were broken.”
“Then why did you leave? Why did you leave me?”
He took a step toward her. “Dawn—”
“Someone has been watching me.”
For a moment, all he heard was the thunder of his heartbeat. Again, too loud. Drumming in his ears. Nearly bursting. Rage heated his blood. “What?”
“It started a few months ago. I felt someone watching me.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him, moving too fast, knowing that his touch was too rough, but not able to help himself. He steered her to the side of the building. The same spot she’d been hiding in before because that spot gave them perfect privacy. “Why the hell are you telling me this now? It should have been the first damn thing you revealed—”
“I have no proof. If I’d had proof, I would have brought the evidence to the police long ago. If I go to them with nothing, I’d look like the woman crying wolf. With my past, folks would jump to the conclusion that I’m suffering from PTSD. I have built a solid reputation with my clients. They know me. They trust me. If I start throwing claims of some shadow stalker without any evidence...” She shook her head. “I’d lose everything I’ve worked to build.”
His hands pressed into the rough stone on either side of her head. He wasn’t touching her then, he didn’t trust himself to touch her, but he caged her with his body because she wasn’t getting away, not until she’d answered all of his questions. “At the police station, you should have told me—”
“You keep looking at me as if you think I’m going to shatter. I didn’t want you to think I was crying wolf, either.”
Fuck. “There’s something you need to understand. Right the hell now.” He stared into her eyes. Got lost in her gaze, like he used to do. “I will always believe you. I have never doubted you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “But I doubted you.”
Oh, shit. “That wasn’t what I—”
Her hand came up between them and her palm slid over the stubble that covered his jaw. He hadn’t shaved that morning. Deliberately.
Because if I have stubble or a beard...maybe I don’t look quite as much like him. Jason had always been freshly shaven. He’d always been so fastidious about his appearance. An organized, obsessive killer—
“It’s his face.”
Every muscle in his body locked down at her soft words. “His face. But I am not him.” He wouldn’t be, fucking ever. But had Dawn sensed the darkness in him? All that seething energy that he kept bottled up every moment? He wouldn’t let it out. He’d never let it touch her.
“It hurt me, at first, to see you.”
He knew that. When he’d tried to make love to her after the attack...
Her screams haunted him.
“But then you were gone—” her hand was still against his cheek “—and that hurt worse.”
What?
She swallowed. Her hand fell back to her side. “But that’s in the past. We both moved on.”
“Someone didn’t move on. Someone is out there, starting his crimes again.” And that had him breaking out into a cold sweat. “Why do you think someone has been watching you? Tell me everything, right now.”
Because he truly did believe her. He would always believe her.
Only you’re wrong, Dawn. We both haven’t moved on.
If only that part was true.
* * *
THE PLAYERS WERE TOGETHER. He’d waited. He’d been so patient. So careful. But now they were all there.
He watched as Dawn led FBI Special Agent Tucker Frost away from the coroner’s building. They’d been having quite the conversation moments before, but now they were hurrying from the scene. Did Tucker realize he had a tendency to stand too close to Dawn? That was a dead giveaway.
He knew plenty about body language. About the unspoken cues that could give away a person’s real emotions. People lied with words, but their bodies always told the truth.
Tucker still cared about Dawn. That was his weakness. But just how much of a weakness, well, that remained to be seen.
Tucker had left the scene. He and Dawn had vanished. He’d find them later. He kept his gaze on the coroner’s building. His victim was still in there.
Eventually, they’d find out who the woman was.
But he’d planned for that. Just as he’d planned for everything.
How much will you be able to take, Tucker, before you break? Because he knew there was a darkness inside of Tucker. And it was time to let that darkness come out and play.
I’ve been waiting for this moment. For a very, very long time.
Seven years, to be exact.