Cynthia Eden - Before The Dawn

She was inside an open freezer.

Tucker wanted to jump to his feet. He wanted to snarl... No fucking way. This can’t be happening. Not again. But he knew Samantha was watching him. He knew Samantha needed him.

And he knew he was going to give her exactly what she wanted.

“The Iceman.”

He could feel the other agents staring at him.

He rose to his feet and headed toward the screen. He stared at the victim’s arms, her bare torso. Her neck. “The angle of the cuts...it appears to be the same.” Because the Iceman had enjoyed inflicting maximum pain on his victims. “He’d start easily, just little flicks of the blade. Then he’d go deeper. Starting with the arms. The stomach. Then driving the blade into the shoulders. The right first, then the left.” And the guy had only been getting started at that point. His torture would last much, much longer.

Tucker stared at the victim’s face. “She’s in her early twenties. A young, pretty female. Just his type.”

Only it wasn’t possible.

“Uh, yeah...” Bowen cleared his throat. “I was under the impression that the Iceman died seven years ago.”

Tucker forced himself to turn away from the victim. “You’re not the only one who thought that.” He’d been under that same impression, until Samantha Dark had given him a heads-up when she first told him about the meeting. She hadn’t wanted him walking into that room blind. And, in fact, she’d given him the option not to come in at all.

He’d been late to that meeting for one reason...because he’d gotten lost thinking about the ghost of his bastard brother.

There were some things a man couldn’t forget, and there were some things that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, hide from.

“The original Iceman was Jason Frost, and, yes, I’m the man who shot him one long-ago Louisiana night.” He kept his voice flat with an effort. Tucker valued his control above all else. “It’s safe to assume that we’re looking at the work of a copycat. It could be as simple as some jerk who wanted to get rid of his girlfriend, so he thought he’d imitate the work of an infamous killer, or—” he rolled back his shoulders “—it could be one of those guys who gets obsessed with a serial killer’s work. Who tries to imitate and duplicate the kills.” Of the two options, that was the one that worried him more. If someone was duplicating Jason’s work, that meant there would be more death coming.

They couldn’t have that.

Macey’s fingers tapped lightly on the table. “If I remember correctly, Jason Frost’s body was never recovered.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Though dive teams had searched for days. “But his body isn’t the first to disappear into the Mississippi, and it won’t be the last.” By the time the cops had arrived, his brother’s body had been long gone. It had taken two hours for the cops to get there...mostly because it had taken a very long time for Tucker to call them in. If he’d called sooner...

Then maybe we would have pulled him from the water. But my priority was elsewhere then.

“If they didn’t get a body—” Bowen’s head tilted as he studied Tucker “—then how can you be certain he’s dead?”

He didn’t let his expression alter. “I’m a former SEAL. When I shoot at something, I hit it. Before he went into the water, I shot Jason Frost three times.” The breath he inhaled felt cold. “With my last shot, I was aiming for his heart.”

Bowen’s eyes narrowed. “But he was your brother. Your blood.”

Blood is all that matters.

“In that last second,” Bowen continued, his brown eyes narrowed, “are you sure you didn’t hesitate?”

“Yes.” He stared straight at Bowen. “I’m sure.”

“Fair enough.” Bowen’s gaze slid from his and focused once more on the woman’s image. “Do we know who the victim is?”

“Right now, she’s listed as a Jane Doe,” Samantha replied. “She doesn’t match with any missing person’s report, and her fingerprints haven’t turned up any hits in our system. But this is still early in the investigation, so I’m expecting to hear more news soon.”

Macey swiveled her chair toward Samantha. “Just how early are we talking?”

“The victim was discovered less than twelve hours ago.”

Bowen gave a low whistle. “That is early.”

Samantha nodded. “And that means we have an advantage. Luckily for us, one of the detectives who is working on this case in New Orleans was familiar with the Iceman’s work. He knew instantly what he was seeing, and he put in a call to my office.”

When the Iceman’s crimes had first been uncovered, his kills had been flashed on every news channel in the United States. But then time had passed and other killers had taken his place. More tales of gore and death had pushed the Iceman out of the spotlight. That was the nature of the beast. In a 24/7 online world, there was always another sensational story waiting.

Always another killer hunting. Always someone out there to satisfy the public’s need for bloody details.

“We can hit the ground running on this one. We can get down there and we can hunt. We can stop him.” Samantha’s gaze lifted to meet Tucker’s. “We can prove that this unit is exactly what the FBI needs. We know killers and now it’s our turn to show everyone just what we can do.”

Tucker eased out a slow breath. “You know I want to be on the plane.” The one that would be leaving to fly down to New Orleans that very night. She’d told him about that flight during their brief premeeting chat, too.

“And you’re going.” She nodded. “You and Macey are heading out tonight. Evaluate the scene, see exactly what we’re dealing with and then make contact with me again. If you need additional backup, Bowen and I will be ready to go.”

Back to Louisiana. “The location is different.” That was something that was already nagging at him. “Jason Frost killed in Baton Rouge, not New Orleans.” And he had to ask. “Was the victim alive when she went into the freezer?”

He saw Macey flinch.

“The coroner doesn’t know yet. When you get down to New Orleans, visit the coroner’s office and see what she’s learned.” She pointed toward Macey. “The fact that you’re a medical doctor is going to come in handy for us—I want your eyes on the victim. Make sure nothing gets missed with her.”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, then.” Samantha straightened her shoulders. “You all have files that I passed out earlier—take a look at them. They contain information on Jason Frost and his victims, including the one woman who managed to escape.”

Slowly, Tucker returned to his seat. He opened the folder that had been set out for him, and he found a picture of Dawn Alexander staring back at him. It was a picture that had been taken of her when she’d been at the hospital. Her big green eyes were blank, glassy. Bruises and cuts covered her body.

Sonofabitch. Pain knifed right through his heart. Time should have lessened the pain. It hadn’t. He didn’t think it ever would.

“One of the things that concerns me most about this case is Dawn Alexander,” Samantha murmured. “Because the only surviving victim of the Iceman? She’s living in New Orleans... The exact place our new perp is using for his hunting grounds.”

* * *

“DAWN!” HE TURNED, frantic to find her. He’d been screaming her name, but she hadn’t called back to him. She wasn’t at his car. She wasn’t in that shit-forsaken cabin. She wasn’t on the old dirt road that led out of that place.

She’d vanished. She’d run from him. Because she was afraid.

“Dawn, I swear, I am not going to hurt you!” He’d taken a flashlight from his car and he’d shone it onto the ground. That was when he saw the blood drops, leading into the thick, twisting woods behind the cabin. One drop, another, another... Tucker started following them. “Jason isn’t here any longer!” He hadn’t seen his brother’s body come back up because he’d been so frantic to find Dawn and make sure she was all right. She’d been covered in so much blood. He needed to check her out. He needed to make absolutely certain she wasn’t going to die out at that cabin.