Before the Dawn--A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Cynthia Eden

  “Both floors are crime scenes. You’re not getting back in there tonight.” He still had his hand out, waiting for her. Her hand lifted and pressed to his. Seemed to fit his. “I’m going to take you someplace safe.”

  Safe. She stiffened.

  “I’ll follow Julia and assist with the exam,” Macey murmured. “I’ll see you both later.” Then she slipped away.

  Dawn didn’t move. “You’re talking about a safe house.” He was talking protective custody again. Basically, locking her up.

  “I’m talking about a secure environment for the night. A place I know that bastard can’t get to.” He stepped even closer to her. “He was in your bedroom. He killed your friend. He is coming for you. The son of a bitch wants to finish what the Iceman started.”

  What if the Iceman didn’t die? What if it’s Jason, finally coming back to kill me? But she didn’t say those words. She’d already told Tucker what she feared once. He’d been so adamant that Jason was long dead.

  What if you’re wrong, Tucker?

  “So I’m just supposed to run and hide?” Before he could speak, she shook her head. “That’s not really my style.” She didn’t hide from life. “Not anymore. But then, I guess you wouldn’t know that, since you don’t know me any longer.” He only knew the girl she’d been. The broken girl who hadn’t even been able to let her lover touch her without seeing a monster coming at her.

  “What you’re supposed to do is stay alive.” Flat. Hard. His fingers closed around hers. “And I know you. I know you soul-fucking-deep. You’re torn up right now because your friend is dead and you’re putting the blame on yourself.” He gave a grim shake of his head. “Not happening. He did this—some sick bastard who wants to be like the Iceman. And he did it deliberately.” With his left hand, he gestured toward the reporters. “So they’d swarm in. So he’d get his fifteen minutes of fame at the cost of an innocent woman’s life.”

  “You’re profiling him.” Because that was what he did now. He profiled killers.

  Has he ever tried to profile me? If he really knew her “soul-fucking-deep” then he must have wondered about the dark spaces inside of her. Those yawning places that had grown over the years, after they’d been created by Jason.

  And by Tucker.

  Do you see what I’ve become?

  “We’re taking this one step at a time. Step one...let the crime scene guys do their job. We brought in backup from the local FBI and Detective Deveraux is on hand, too. They’re securing the scene. And my job right now—my priority—is to protect you.”

  Not because of any personal reason, she got that. “You’re supposed to protect the only surviving victim of the Iceman.”

  “And the next potential victim of this bastard.”

  She didn’t flinch, but her heartbeat stuttered.

  “Step two is getting you away from this scene. I know who you are...and any moment, one of those reporters will be figuring it out, too. They’ll figure out your past.”

  Her anonymity would be blown to hell.

  “They’ll pull records on this building. They’ll get your name. They’ll make the connection. They wouldn’t be worth their salt as reporters if they didn’t.” He looked toward his waiting SUV. “So come away with me now. Let’s get away clean for the night. I’ll take you away from the crowd, to a place where we can regroup for the night. By morning we’ll have more evidence to follow. The rest of my team will be here. We can hit the ground running.”

  He kept using that tempting word, we. “You’re going to let me help? No more trying to shut me out?”

  “I’m going to make sure you’re at my side. He’s coming for you. I’m not going to bullshit and tell you that you’re safe. We both know that’s not true. So I figure the best place for you is with me. With my team. You proved today at the warehouse that you’ve got good instincts. I’m not going to shove you on the sidelines. I want you with me.”

  That was where she wanted to be. It took two tries but Dawn swallowed the lump in her throat. “Jinx is—was—my friend.” She didn’t let too many people get close. Occupational hazard. “This shouldn’t have happened.” A tear leaked down her cheek. Her hand rose to brush it away, but Tucker beat her. His fingertips slid over her cheek.

  “No,” he said quietly. “It shouldn’t have. But we’re going to find the son of a bitch. We will stop him.”

  She nodded and peered up at him a moment longer. Dawn could feel stares on her. They’d already attracted attention from reporters. She knew he was right. Her identity would come out. With this case, with this situation, it would have to come out.

  Without another word, she turned and headed for his SUV. Her clothes were upstairs. Her bag—upstairs. But all of that was part of a crime scene now.

  How many times did he come in my home and I didn’t know it?

  Tucker opened the passenger door for her. She slid inside and when the door shut, she glanced back at the scene.

  Was he there when I slept? Was that bastard right beside me and I didn’t know it? He must have been. That was why she’d woken to his scent all around her.

  Tucker slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

  “This is different,” she murmured. “Jason never broke into my room. He never came inside. I don’t...I don’t think he did that with any of his victims.”

  “This isn’t Jason. It’s some bastard who’s obsessed with his crimes and living out a fantasy where he becomes the Iceman.” He cranked the vehicle. “That fantasy is about to fucking end.”

  * * *

  HIS DARKEST DREAM was finally a reality.

  Dawn’s home was lit up with the swirl of police lights. Uniforms made sure the crowd didn’t get too close. Local FBI agents were all over the scene. And Jinx...

  They found you. He’d hoped they’d make that discovery soon. He’d waited patiently for so long, but now everything was falling into place.

  The Iceman lived again. The press would be spreading his story to the world. All eyes would be on him. They’d see just what he could do.

  Justice was coming. Payback.

  And it would be an ice-cold son of a bitch.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHE’D COME WITH HIM. Holy hell, but that had been a gamble. He’d been pretty sure Dawn would tell him to screw off with his offer of a safe house. And if she’d said that...

  Then there would have been no choice. He would have been forced to take her into protective custody because there was no way Tucker could leave her on her own.

  “There were only nine roses in the bouquet.” The words slipped from him as he drove through the city. He risked a quick glance at Dawn and saw that she was staring out of the window, as if searching the crowd.

  “I have nine rose tattoos on my body, just nine.” Her voice was soft. “He knew.”

  Yes, because... “I think he knew Jinx.” He stopped at a red light. She had turned her head to look at him, but it wasn’t bright enough in the SUV’s interior for him to see her eyes. He wished that he could see them. “If this guy has been coming into your home like you said—and I fully believe that—then he had to be using the passage from her place for a while.” It had looked like some kind of old-school dumbwaiter. “So this was a man that she let into her home.”

  “Jinx didn’t let some jerk break into my home! She didn’t let some guy terrorize me!”

  The light changed. He accelerated even as he shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t think she was involved in anything he did. I think the guy was using her...”

  Silence. “In order to get to me?”

  “Yes.” He had been building a profile on this perp, one step at a time. “I think we’re looking at a meticulous killer.” He had to be, in order to duplicate the Iceman’s work so completely. “And he wanted to
be sure he was capable of committing the perfect crime, so he needed a trial victim.”

  “Heather.”

  A victim from Jason’s old stomping grounds. Homage to the master? “And then he had to get rid of Jinx because she knew who he was.” That was part of the reason. He didn’t tell Dawn the other part—that Tucker believed the bastard had killed Jinx...in order to hurt you, Dawn. He knew she was your friend and he wanted that pain to rip straight through you.

  And it had. He’d seen Dawn nearly collapse when she’d opened that freezer.

  There were many forms of torture. The worst kinds didn’t always involve the slice of knife.

  “We have to find Red.” Her voice had sharpened. “He saw the killer, too. We can get him to the police station, have him work with a sketch artist...”

  Tucker wasn’t sure how reliable Red’s memory would prove to be, but he was willing to give the guy a shot.

  “There’s a restaurant on the next street. The owner, Jones, usually gives the day’s leftovers to the homeless. Let’s stop and talk to him.”

  After everything that had just happened, she wanted to keep hunting? He wanted her off the streets, he wanted—

  Her hand curled around his wrist. “Please, Tucker. Please. I need to do this. Jones is a friend of mine. He can help us to find Red. I meant to call him earlier, but then...”

  Then she’d found Jinx dead.

  “I have to do something to help her. It won’t take long, I promise. Just a quick stop. And you’re with me. I’m safe when you’re with me, right?”

  Always. Without another word, he turned at the next street. Dawn knew the city and the people there. If she had a contact that would help them find Red, he would use it.

  “It’s that one.” She pointed. “Dressed.”

  The small restaurant seemed packed. Lights glowed from inside and he saw a line of customers spilling out from the entrance.

  “Jones has the best po’boys in town.”

  Dressed. Right. The name made more sense now. Dressed—with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and mayonnaise—well, that was the only way to eat a good po’boy. He parked at the curb. There were plenty of people strolling on the streets. Tourists always seemed to be out in this city.

  Dawn jumped from the vehicle, but she didn’t head toward the front of Dressed. Instead, she went to the back, snaking through a small alleyway, and Tucker followed right behind her. She rapped on the door back there, and it opened a moment later. A man stood there, towering over Dawn. He had bright white hair and dark skin—and forearms that looked decidedly like tree trunks. The man wore a faded white apron and he held a white paper bag in his hand. But he blinked when he saw Tucker and Dawn.

  “Hi, Jones.” She gave him a weak smile. “Do you have a moment?”

  Jones put the bag down on the counter. Then he grabbed Dawn, pulling her close in a crushing hug. “Been too long.”

  Tucker saw Dawn squeeze the man back. “I know. Julia’s been sneaking me your po’boys because she understands I need my fix.”

  He grunted and released her, and a wide smile spread over his face. “I thought she was taking a bit extra when she came to the restaurant.” His gaze slid to Tucker. “And just who is this?” His stare turned assessing as it slid over Tucker. Jones studied Tucker a moment, then accurately called him out as, “FBI.”

  Tucker inclined his head. “Guilty.” He offered his hand to the man. “My name’s Tucker Frost.”

  “Jones.” He gave a brief, strong shake. “It’s the suit that gives you away.” The kitchen workers were hustling behind him and a dozen tantalizing scents drifted in the air. “I can always spot you guys from fifty paces.” His smile was gone as he focused on Dawn once more. “Why are you bringing a Fed to my back door?”

  “Because we need your help.” Her hands were at her sides. “There’s a man doing some very bad things in this city, and so far, there’s only one person who has actually seen him.”

  One person who was still alive. There had been a hitch in Dawn’s voice when she spoke and he could tell by the sudden stiffness in Jones’s shoulders that the other man had noticed. She’s in pain.

  Tucker hated Dawn’s pain.

  Jones narrowed his eyes. “Tell me more.”

  “He’s killing, Jones. Julia is working on...on another of his victims tonight.” Her breath whispered out. “This victim was my friend.”

  The man’s face hardened. “What can I do?” His hand squeezed her shoulder.

  For a moment, Tucker thought Dawn would cry, but instead she pulled in a long, hard breath. “We’re looking for a homeless man named Red.” She gave a quick description of him. “If he comes knocking on your back door, will you keep him here? Keep him here, call me...and Tucker and I will be at Dressed as fast as we can.”

  Jones nodded. “I can do that.”

  “Thank you.” She gave a brisk nod. “I know you need to get back to work, but we had to stop by. Word about your place has spread. I know if Red needs a meal, he’ll show up here. And maybe you can put the word out to the others...when they come for food...let them know we’re looking for Red, and that I can pay them for information.”

  “I’ll put out that word.”

  “I need him to stay safe.” She rubbed her face. “I gave him a hundred dollars. That could last him a while or...or he could drink it away in a night. Just...if he comes here, you call.”

  One of the cooks yelled out to Jones.

  “We’ll let you get back to work,” Dawn murmured.

  Jones dropped his hand from her shoulder. But there was still worry in his eyes as he stared down at Dawn.

  “Thanks for your time, sir,” Tucker said. They slipped away. As they were leaving, a woman with long blond hair and hunched shoulders hurried toward the back door. She knocked, and Jones opened the door to hand her that white bag. The woman whispered her thanks and hurried off.

  Tucker paused in the alleyway, watching the scene. “How long has he been doing that?”

  “Ever since he opened the business five years ago. Jones has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “And let me guess—” he thought of Malone “—you met him while working a PI case? Who did you find for him?”

  She frowned at him. “I met Jones when his daughter, Julia, brought me here for the best po’boy of my life.”

  Julia. The coroner. No wonder they’d been talking so casually about her.

  “He’s helped me on a few of my cases. No one knows the city better than Jones. If Red comes calling, we’ll know.” She turned and stalked down the alley. He followed behind, and then found himself reaching out to touch her shoulder.

  She stilled.

  “Why did you come to New Orleans?”

  “I couldn’t stay in Baton Rouge any longer. It hurt too much.” She turned toward him. Their bodies brushed. “But Louisiana is in my blood. New Orleans just seemed to...call to me at the time. Plenty of people escape here. Plenty of people start over here. And that’s what I needed. A place to start over.”

  Only that fresh start was being destroyed. “I’m sorry.”

  Her head tilted back. “For what?”

  “My family wrecked your life.” His family. His fucking twisted family. And most folks thought Jason was the only problem in their family tree.

  Those folks were wrong. Jason hadn’t been the first monster in the family. What if he’s not the last?

  “You never hurt me, Tucker.” She stared up at him. “But I hurt you.”

  “Dawn...”

  “I couldn’t see past him, when I looked at you.” Her voice had become a whisper. “And I’m sorry for that. You were the person I needed most back then, and you were the one I pushed away the hardest.”

  He wanted to pull her into his arms. Hold her t
ight and never let go.

  “I won’t do it again.” If possible, her words were even softer. He had to lean in close to hear her. “I swear, I won’t.”

  * * *

  “SO HOW DID an MD wind up working for the FBI?” Julia Bradford asked as Macey followed her into the morgue.

  The victim hadn’t arrived yet. A special crew would be bringing her inside any moment. Macey shivered a bit as she stood in the lab. She didn’t have a whole lot of experience when it came to working with the dead. “A necessary career change.”

  Julia quirked one brow at her. “That sounds mysterious.”

  Macey had been a senior resident when the stalking had begun. Small things, at first. Simple things. She’d been so busy that she hadn’t paid them much attention. She glanced down at her sleeve. “I wanted to be a doctor so that I could help people. My mother...she died of cancer when I was a kid. I thought being a doctor would let me make a difference. That I could change lives.”

  Julia stared back at her.

  “Then I learned there were other ways to help people.” Ways that called to her.

  And she also hadn’t been able to step back inside an operating room. Not after what he did.

  “Your hands shake when you get close to the exam table.” Julia’s voice was quiet.

  Surprise rushed through her. I know. I can’t help it. “You’re very observant.”

  Julia smiled. “My dad taught me that. Said you have to watch the world around you. See the things that others miss. That way, you have an advantage.”

  “Sounds like some dad you’ve got there.”

  “He’s incredible.” She turned away.

  Macey bit her lip, then asked, “Why do you work with the dead?” Because it was her turn to watch closely, Macey saw the slight stiffening of Julia’s shoulders. “You’re an MD,” Macey pushed. “Why not work with the living?”

  “I was going to focus on pediatrics...” Julia’s voice had turned musing. “Make sure kids grew up strong and healthy. I even had plans to start up a clinic back in the parish where I grew up.”