Cynthia Eden - Before The Dawn

A case. She waved to him. “Okay. Tell me more.” Why was the guy just leaving her in suspense? It wasn’t like him to leave her hanging.

But Anthony licked his lips and his stare darted toward the interrogation room door. “We have to wait. The FBI is joining us.”

What? She wanted to bolt out of her chair. She didn’t. The FBI... Dawn gave a low whistle. “This must be some case.”

He looked at her, and she saw the quick flash of sympathy on his face. “It is.”

She blinked and that sympathy was gone, but Dawn knew she’d seen it. She rose to her feet and the chair legs squeaked as they slid across the floor. “Anthony...”

He tensed.

She stalked toward him. “What’s happening here?” Because her heart was racing too fast. Her stomach was tying into knots.

He rolled back his shoulders. “Told you...it’s a case I’m working on. The FBI came in to consult, and they asked to see you first thing this morning. Just be patient a little longer, okay?”

“I’m not real good with patience.” Not any longer she wasn’t. Like she wasn’t good with many things. Being alone at night. I suck when it comes to being alone when it gets dark. That’s why I hunt then. Better to be on the streets than locked in my home.

He glanced back at the door, looking over her shoulder. Since she stood at just five foot four and he was easily over six feet, it was simple enough for the guy to glance right over her.

She didn’t like being glanced over.

She also didn’t like finding out that the FBI was about to burst into the room. Easy, Dawn. There are hundreds, thousands of FBI agents. What are the odds that he will be the one to walk inside right now?

He... Tucker Frost. The man who haunted her, waking and sleeping.

She shook her head. No, there was no way fate would be that cruel to her. Besides, she kept tabs on Tucker. He was working in DC now. He wasn’t part of the local FBI branch. He wouldn’t be coming in that door.

The door began to squeak open. She whirled around.

* * *

FEAR.

God, he’d forgotten how much he hated to see fear on Dawn’s face.

Tucker stood just behind the one-way glass, watching her as she whirled to confront the agent who’d just walked through the door. For an instant, there had been no missing the fact that Dawn was afraid.

But...

When she saw Macey, Dawn’s shoulders relaxed.

And he knew why she’d been afraid. She’s still afraid of me.

Some things didn’t change, no matter how much time passed.

His arms were crossed over his chest as he watched the little group. Anthony Deveraux. He’d been the cop who contacted the Bureau, the guy who’d instantly feared that they had another Iceman on their hands. A guy who didn’t want a serial, not in his city.

Like anyone wanted one. It wasn’t as if folks went out hoping for death and despair to hit close to home.

“I’m FBI Special Agent Macey Night,” Tucker’s partner said as she closed the door behind her. She was wearing her neatly pressed suit, with the sleeves that fell just past her wrists. Her red hair was tucked behind her ears. Her gaze swept over Dawn. “And I really appreciate you coming in this morning, Ms. Alexander—”

“Just Dawn,” she said, shaking her head. “Just call me Dawn.” She paced around the room, moving quickly, energy seeming to bubble off her. For a moment, he just stared at her. She’d changed in the last seven years. Her blond hair was shorter, barely skimming her pale jaw now. Her green eyes were still bright, gleaming, but now her stare seemed to carry suspicion. Her cheekbones were high, her chin was slightly pointed and her lips were full and red. Sexy. She’d always been sexy to him. But now...

She carried herself differently. She moved with fast energy and, except for that flash of fear...confidence.

A scar sliced around her neck, faint now, white and faded, but he’d always remember that mark. Just as he remembered the others.

So many others.

Jason, you bastard. I hope you’re burning in hell right now.

“Dawn.” Macey inclined her head. “I just want to begin by saying that I know your life hasn’t been easy. And I know you probably don’t want to talk about your past.”

Dawn shot a disbelieving glance at Anthony. “Tell me you did not bring me down here for this.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “My past? Seriously? My past is dead and buried.” Her chin notched up as she focused on Macey once more. “And you’re right. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to talk about it.” She moved toward the door.

Macey stepped into her path. “I should tell you more about my work with the FBI. I studied with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” She gave a weak smile. “Though it’s not the technical term we use, you could say I’m a profiler—”

Dawn flinched. “And you want to understand killers better, right? You want to talk to a living, breathing serial killer survivor so you can figure out how those psychos tick?” She shook her head. “Sorry, lady. I don’t want to be your science project. I’m not going to let you poke and prod me so you can see all of my pain and learn more about those sick freaks. I’m leaving, so do me a favor and move.”

Macey did move. She pushed up her right sleeve, then her left, and she raised her arms in front of Dawn.

From the angle he had, Tucker couldn’t see Macey’s arms clearly, but he did see Dawn’s expression. Surprise. Pain.

“I have plenty of experience with a ‘living, breathing serial killer survivor,’ as you put it,” Macey said softly. “So believe me when I say...I understand. I understand that you’re scared. You’re angry. I understand that some days you hate the very world around you. You see people living their simple lives and they just don’t get how dark and twisted the world around them truly is.” She exhaled as she pushed her sleeves back down. “Believe me, I understand.”

Dawn was no longer staring angrily at the other woman. Now curiosity was on her face. “What is it that I can do for you, Agent Night?”

“Detective Deveraux and I wanted you to be aware of a crime that was recently committed in the New Orleans area.” Macey motioned toward the table. “Why don’t you and I sit down so we can talk?”

He saw Dawn lift one delicate brow, but she turned and made her way back to the table. She took one of the seats and then Macey sat across from her.

Anthony wasn’t speaking. He was just watching. Waiting.

So was Tucker. He’d held his breath when he’d first seen her. That initial view of Dawn had been like a punch straight to his gut. As he watched her now, his hand rose and pressed to the glass. This was the closest he’d been to Dawn in years.

There was another knock on the interrogation room door.

Dawn’s shoulders stiffened, but a young cop came running inside, and he handed Macey a manila file. She thanked him and—

Dawn is looking at me.

Her head had turned and she was staring at the one-way mirror. It actually seemed as if she were gazing at him. For a second, he almost fucking forgot to breathe.

But then she looked away.

“These are crime scene photos,” Macey began as her fingers slid into the folder. “I asked Officer Higgins to bring them into us but before you see them, I wanted to warn you that they are very graphic.”

“I’m used to graphic,” Dawn replied. Her voice was husky. Soft. It rolled over him as he stood there.

He wanted to be in that room. Wanted to be with her. But...

Fear.

It held them both back.

Anthony cleared his throat. “I found a body recently, Dawn. One that set off every alarm bell in my head.” His lips thinned. “Because of you, I was...familiar with this kind of work.”