by Cynthia Eden
“Tucker was in New Orleans.” Anthony’s rough voice. “Did he tell you that, Dawn?”
A furrow appeared between her brows.
Anthony stalked toward Tucker. Anger seemed to hum in the air around him. “I did some digging on you when Bowen called in with that story about Heather’s boyfriend. I knew you and Samantha Dark were in Fairhope, Alabama, around that time. You guys made coverage in all the news outlets, didn’t you? Stopping the Sorority Slasher.” His lips twisted. “But you didn’t go back to DC when the case was done, did you?”
Fuck. “No, I didn’t.” He squeezed Dawn’s hand, but then he let her go. “I had some vacation days due and I took them.”
Anthony was smirking. “Right. Vacation. And you want to tell Dawn just what town you decided to visit for that vacation?”
Samantha already knew. Bowen knew. He could see it in their eyes. Anthony had done his digging, all right, and he’d immediately told them what he’d found.
“You were more than ready to have my partner play the role of the killer.” Anthony’s gaze glittered. “But you were holding back truths about yourself the whole freaking time, weren’t you?”
“It wasn’t relevant.” He locked down his control. He couldn’t let his own rage out as he talked to Anthony. He had to play this right. Stay focused.
“Hell, yes, it was.” Anthony pointed to Dawn. “Does she know that you were in New Orleans? That after you wrapped up your case in Alabama, you came here? Right at the same time Heather was supposedly visiting her FBI lover?”
Fuck me. “I never saw Heather. I didn’t know the woman at all. The first time I saw her face...it was when I was looking at her crime scene photos.”
“Why come back to New Orleans then? Why were you here?” Anthony pushed.
“Plenty of people come to New Orleans.” It was the first time Dawn had spoken. Her voice was stilted. “Happens every day.”
Anthony shook his head. “Bullshit. He came for you, Dawn.” He paused a moment and his head cocked as he studied her. “You know how you said you felt watched?”
“She was being watched!” Tucker exploded. “The killer was in her home, he was—”
“You were watching her,” Anthony accused grimly. “You came to New Orleans then because you wanted to see Dawn. Only that wasn’t your first trip to spy on her, was it? I kept checking, kept digging through your travel history. Since she moved to the area, you’ve come at least once a year to keep tabs on her. To watch her.” He swallowed. “You know what I’d call that shit? Stalking.”
“Tucker?” Dawn’s fingers touched his arm. “You were...here?”
Don’t lie to her. But his gaze swept the group. Two agents on his own team and one NOPD detective who hated his guts. “Is this an interrogation?” His voice was mild because it had to be. If he played this scene wrong, he knew where he’d wind up. “I thought you just said my DNA wasn’t a match to the killer’s.”
“Maybe you’re covering for another family member,” Anthony threw out. “Blood comes before anything else, right? Isn’t that the way it always was for the Frost family?”
“Your DNA didn’t match completely,” Samantha affirmed. She exhaled on a sigh. “But we do need you to come down to the station and answer some questions for us.”
This wasn’t a briefing. It was them...coming for him. Coming to take him downtown. “And Dawn? What about her?”
“I’ll take care of Dawn.” Anthony was adamant. “And I won’t be working my own agenda.” Disgust was even thicker in his voice as he said, “You couldn’t let go, could you? You could never let go.”
This wasn’t happening. “I’m not involved in these killings and I’m not protecting anyone.”
“Torez got hauled in. You can bet your ass you’ll get grilled, too,” Anthony swore.
This time, he knew the cop was right. He was about to get grilled. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.
“We should all head to the station.” Samantha was the calm in the face of Anthony’s storm. “You, too, Dawn. I’d like for you to accompany us.”
“Tucker.” Dawn’s voice. Sharper now.
His shoulders stiffened.
“Were you here? Did you come to New Orleans?”
“Yes.” He made himself look into her eyes. “I was here, and Anthony is right. I’ve been here before, too.”
“Tucker...”
He locked his hands around her shoulders. “I was here, but not to stalk you. Not to scare you. Not to do anything to hurt you in any way, baby.” The endearment slipped out and he knew the others heard it. Screw it. “I needed to check in and make sure you were all right. My brother tried to destroy you. I had to see you. I just had to know that you were okay.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? You never spoke to me in all of those years—”
“Because the last time we were together, you screamed when I touched you.” A bitter truth he hated to say in front of the others. “I just needed to see for myself that you were all right.”
“Sounds like an obsession to me,” Anthony muttered. “Like I said, some guys can’t let go, no matter what.”
He didn’t speak. Because maybe, maybe the guy was right. Maybe he was obsessed.
And when Dawn looked at him, did she see that truth?
He was afraid that she might.
* * *
THE POLICE STATION was a hum of activity. Phones were ringing. Voices were shouting out. Chaos reigned.
Dawn sat, hunched on a bench near the bullpen. Tucker had been taken to the back. He’d disappeared with Samantha and Anthony and the police captain. Bowen paced a few feet away, casting her curious glances every few moments.
“It’s not Tucker.” Her voice was harsh. So what? She felt harsh. And she was tired of sitting around, having everyone in the whole world seem to watch her. Dawn surged to her feet. “This isn’t him. Someone is trying to set him up.”
Bowen ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t speak. Didn’t offer up a quick, heartfelt affirmation that, no, his teammate couldn’t be involved in the killings.
Silence could be its own condemnation.
“It’s time for me to do what I actually do best.” Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her jeans. “Investigate. So you stay here and you guys question Tucker all day if that’s what you want to do, but I’m going to talk with Julia—Dr. Bradford. I want to know just what she’s found in her autopsies.” She turned on her heel and marched away from him.
“Dawn!”
She kept right on marching.
He caught her arm just as she was about to head out the gleaming glass doors at the front of the station. “You’re under protective custody. You just can’t—”
“I’m going to talk to the coroner. You want to tag your ass along, fine. But don’t get in my way. Don’t slow me down.” Her emotions were rioting. A partial DNA match. There couldn’t be another Frost out there. She knew the family—there weren’t any other relatives in Baton Rouge. It had always just been the two brothers. No cousins. No one else.
When Tucker’s father had died—God, the truth he revealed will haunt me forever—no one else had stepped forward to help the boys. Jason turned eighteen a few days after they’d buried their father, so he’d taken over custody of Tucker.
She shoved open the door and stepped out into the too-bright sunlight. She blinked quickly and wished she had a pair of sunglasses. The reporters weren’t camped out in front of the station—a good thing because she didn’t want to battle them. She’d heard Samantha and Anthony mentioning that a press conference was scheduled for later that day. Maybe the reporters were just biding their time until then.
“You’re one hundred percent certain of the guy?”
Bowen had followed her. Big surprise.
“He’s not the killer.” Sh
e hurried down the street. She’d just caught sight of a news van. So at least one reporter was there. Dawn lowered her head and hunched her shoulders, not wanting to catch the attention of that crew.
Bowen kept pace with her. “But he...is a killer. We both know that. He killed Jason for you.”
As soon as she crossed the street—and got away from that news van—Dawn spun to face Bowen. “Let’s be clear. Tucker killed Jason to protect me. Not because he’s some psychotic murderer, and, yes, I believe that with certainty. I trust him.” She started marching again.
“You didn’t trust him before. After Jason’s attack on you, you kicked him out of your life. Why? What happened to make you fear him so much then?”
“Really? Here? On the street? This is where you want to have this conversation?” At least they were far enough away from the station that prying eyes weren’t on her, and, since it was early in the day, the area was fairly deserted. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Fine. But you already know this. I was a broken twenty-one-year-old girl. A serial killer had just spent hours torturing me and telling me that the man I loved was in on his crimes. He’d told me—”
“Wait.” His face had gone grim. “Jason said Tucker was involved?”
Crap. Now she was making mistakes. “Jason Frost was a liar. A manipulator. He wanted to cause me maximum pain, and he did.” By breaking my heart. “Tucker came. He saved me. He killed his brother to keep me safe so that—”
“Did you ever wonder if he killed his brother so that Jason couldn’t tell you the truth about Tucker’s involvement in the Iceman crimes?”
She felt sweat trickle down her back. It was early in the day, but the humidity was already like a blanket covering her. “Is this some kind of good cop, bad cop bit? Were you told to grill me and see if I had doubts about Tucker?”
He stared back at her. A car whizzed past them. “Do you?”
Her chin notched up. “Screw off, Agent Murphy. If you won’t back your own teammate, you’re no good to me.” She whirled away from him and hurried down the street.
* * *
“YOU UNDERSTAND, OF COURSE, why we needed to bring you in for questioning.” It was Captain Harold Hatch who spoke. He rubbed his chin and assessed Tucker.
“Yeah, I get it.” Didn’t mean he liked it. Tucker waved his hand toward the others in the room. A watchful Samantha. A glowering Anthony. “You want to make sure I’m not some serial killer...”
“Or that you’re not protecting one,” Hatch murmured, his bushy brows lowering over his brown eyes.
“Again,” Anthony added.
Tucker’s fingers pressed lightly on the table. “I didn’t protect Jason before. I don’t know who this killer is, but I’m not doing anything to help him.” Partial match. His head had been spinning ever since Samantha had dropped that bombshell. He didn’t think the match was bullshit. He did wonder though...
Who is it?
Was it possible that Jason had a son out there? Or maybe...maybe their dad had even had another kid? They’d never seen their dad with another woman after their mom died, but, maybe...
“Have you been stalking Dawn Alexander?” Hatch asked.
He was leading the interview. Samantha had a personal relationship with Tucker, so she was hanging back, and Anthony...well, the captain had pulled rank on him.
“No,” Tucker said quietly. “I haven’t.” Rage would get him nowhere. He had to answer the questions, play his cooperating role, and then he’d get back to Dawn.
“What about the trips you took to New Orleans? Were you just here because you enjoyed our jazz music?” Hatch’s voice was doubting.
Samantha watched him with a hooded gaze. He should have told her about the trips. When she’d first come to him with the case, he should have mentioned that he’d been visiting New Orleans. But, shit, he’d thought it wouldn’t matter.
He’d been wrong.
Tucker chose his words carefully. “My brother nearly destroyed Dawn’s life. I checked up on her because I felt...protective where she was concerned.” His response was calm. He knew how interrogations worked. And he knew how not to fuck one up. “I didn’t think she wanted to see me, so I made sure not to intrude in her life.”
“So...what?” Anthony butted in to ask. “You were some kind of guardian angel for her? Is that what you’re saying?”
Tucker’s head cocked as he studied the detective. “No. I’m saying I wanted to look out for a woman I’d cared about.”
“Cared. Past tense.”
Tucker didn’t blink.
“Do you have a relationship with her now?” Hatch grilled him.
Watch yourself. They’re trying to catch you in a lie. “Yes.”
Hatch’s eyes widened. What? Had the guy been expecting him to lie? Tucker knew better. He’d called Dawn “baby” in front of too many people earlier. He’d let his emotions slip out. Covering now would be senseless.
Hatch flattened his hands on the table as he leaned forward. “We found your prints inside Jinx Donahue’s home.”
“That’s because I went inside with Dawn. We searched the place together.”
“And you just happened to be present when the roses were found at Dawn’s place.”
“Right. I was there with her. She actually found them first, but I went in a few moments after her and saw them.”
“You went in her bedroom,” Anthony said.
Tucker raised his brows. “That’s where the roses were left, yes.”
“Dawn didn’t tell me that someone had been watching her...” Anthony’s cheeks were red. “She was friends with cops, but she didn’t mention feeling watched, not until you came here and got back in her life. Why is that? Why only talk about what was happening now?”
“Because she didn’t have proof. She didn’t want to go to you without proof.”
Anthony smirked. “Odd, isn’t it? That there was no physical proof left behind, not until the moment you arrived in town.”
“Not so odd, really. I came to town because of the killer. He was escalating, obviously. Perhaps my presence in Dawn’s life even pushed him over an edge.”
“Or perhaps you engineered everything that is happening here,” Anthony said, voice cutting, “just so that Dawn would be afraid once more. So that she’d need you...and you could have a way back into her life. A way back to the relationship that you’ve never been able to let go.”
“That’s certainly one idea,” Tucker murmured. “But it’s the wrong idea.” He kept his pose easy as he stared at the others. Showing aggression now would only work against him. It was a good thing he’d had so long to practice controlling his emotions. “You are the ones who contacted my team. I didn’t come here on my own—”
“We contacted you because the scene looked exactly like the Iceman’s kills. You could have staged that deliberately.” Anthony had taken the lead from Hatch and, apparently, the captain wanted to see just where his detective would go with this line of questioning.
“And the DNA evidence?” Tucker asked, raising a brow. “Where did I find a partial match for—”
“Your father.” Anthony smirked at him, eyes gleaming. “You’re a smart son of a bitch. Had to be, right? Former SEAL. Highflier in the FBI. I’m betting you know plenty about evidence. Specifically, how to leave behind the evidence that you want others to find. I mean... I just didn’t get it. Why would the killer leave his gloves for Red to take? Why do that, unless he wanted that evidence to eventually be discovered?”
Tucker didn’t let his body stiffen.
“Maybe you kept DNA from your father. Hell, for all I know, maybe those were your father’s gloves. You kept them, then you dumped them. Maybe they were your security in case we didn’t call the FBI in right away. You were counting on the PD down here running tests on the gloves and then, whe
n we did—bam—there would be a link to Jason Frost. You knew when we found the partial match we’d be calling your office. Calling you. Just like you’d planned all along.”
“That’s one interesting theory,” Tucker murmured.
“Like it, do you?” Anthony gave him a cold smile. “Because I’ve got more.”
Can’t wait to hear this.
“You got to Red before I did. Before anyone else did. When I got to the motel, you were the one standing over that poor man as he took his last breath. At the time, I thought it was coincidence, but now...now I’m wondering...did Red know too much about you? Did he see you with Heather’s body? And you had to kill him?” A beat of silence. “It’s such a fucking coincidence to me that Rowan Jacobs described the killer to us...a man who fit your description perfectly.”
Tucker eased out a slow breath. One, then another. Don’t let him push too far. “You have been working up a lot of theories.” His voice wasn’t mocking. It was flat. “But that’s all they are. You want the truth?”
“That’d be nice,” Hatch growled.
“I was in DC when I got the news about this case.” He inclined his head toward Samantha. “My team leader briefed me, and I agreed to come down here because my job is to stop killers. I got on the plane and I got my ass down to New Orleans. I immediately started working the case, and, yes, that brought me into contact with Dawn.” His gaze swept to Anthony’s. “But you know that already.”
Anthony grunted.
“I didn’t plant evidence. I didn’t kill Red. I tried to save him.” Tucker’s shoulders rolled back. “The real killer is out there. And by focusing on me, you’re just wasting time.”
* * *
IT WAS COLD in the coroner’s office. Dawn shivered when she walked inside. “Julia?” Bowen was a few steps behind her, a shadow she couldn’t seem to shake.
Dawn heard the murmur of voices, and when she rounded the corner, her gaze fell on Julia, clad in her white lab coat. Julia wasn’t alone, though. Macey was at her side, and they were both hovering over a sheet-covered body.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Julia’s eyes immediately filled with worry. “Dawn, I’m still working on the autopsy for Jinx. You don’t want to be here.”
