Cynthia Eden - Before The Dawn

Her head tilted as if she were considering his words. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Macey opened the file and she pushed a picture toward Dawn.

Dawn immediately jumped to her feet and the chair shot back behind her, its wheels screeching. Fear didn’t just flash on her face. Horror came, turning her skin stark white, and Tucker found himself lunging for the door.

She needs me.

“No.” Dawn’s voice was surprisingly strong. “No.”

He froze.

* * *

SHE COULDN’T TAKE her eyes off the first picture.

She’d seen pictures just like that one before. She’d made herself see them. Dawn had wanted to learn everything she could about the Iceman’s other victims. And they’d all looked just like this...when he was done with them.

Ice covered the woman’s thick lashes. Her skin was blue. Her lips—they were so dark. There were cuts on the woman, cuts that had long since stopped bleeding.

The pain had stopped.

I’m going to teach you to like the pain.

The woman appeared young, perhaps barely twenty-one. She was dead. Frozen.

“I found her in a warehouse downtown. An anonymous tip came into the station and I followed up on it,” Anthony said. “At first, I thought it was a hoax, then I saw the freezer. There was power in the building, but it looked as if the place hadn’t been used in months. Cobwebs were everywhere. The air tasted stale but the freezer was...humming.”

Look away from the picture.

She jerked her gaze up to him.

“I had to look inside.” His eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “And I found her.”

“Who owns the building?” The words came from her, flat, calm. Surprising when she didn’t feel calm at all. “Get the person who owns the building. I mean, if the freezer was running...” How long? How long were you in there? She cleared her throat and made herself keep talking. “If the freezer was running, if the power was on in that building, then the owner has to know something.”

“The owner was questioned first thing. He’d moved his operation out of the warehouse seven months ago. He’d kept the power on because of a clerical error in his office. He didn’t even realize he was still getting billed for it. The freezer...” Anthony shook his head. “He swore he knew nothing about it.”

“And you believe him?” She didn’t, but then she didn’t usually trust anyone. People hid too many secrets. They told too many lies.

“At this point, he appears to be telling the truth.”

Bull. She’d like to talk to the guy herself. She’d like—

“We may be looking at a copycat here,” Macey announced.

Dawn backed up a step. “May?” She gave a rough laugh. “Considering that Jason Frost is dead, I think there is a bit more than may involved right here.” Her temples were throbbing. Her heart racing. Jason has to be dead. He has to be.

But in the last few months, hadn’t she started to wonder...hadn’t she started to fear...?

“It could be a onetime situation,” Macey continued briskly. Her head inclined and her red hair gleamed under the overhead light. “It could be a person who was trying to take advantage of a serial killer’s fame. Perhaps this individual had someone he wanted to eliminate from his life, so he used the Iceman’s MO to do it.”

Anthony had edged closer to them.

“That’s actually what I hope it is,” Macey continued, her head cocked a bit to the right. “And not a true copycat. Because in that instance...there will be more deaths.”

No, no, she did not want to hear this. Dawn’s gaze cut to Anthony. “Way to warn a woman what she’s walking into.”

He winced. “I was under orders not to talk about it. Not to—”

“Our department wanted to speak to you first.” Macey’s interjection was smooth.

And...interesting. “Why?” Dawn demanded. “Because you wanted to watch my reaction?” That just didn’t make sense to her, not unless... Her spine straightened. “Surely you don’t think I’m involved in this?”

There was the faintest of hesitations before Macey said, “You were the Iceman’s only surviving victim. You knew Jason Frost well before your attack.”

Not as well as I knew Tucker.

“Sometimes, victims can...associate with their attackers. They can believe that a connection exists between them.”

The lady needed to be bullshitting.

“The Stockholm syndrome is the greatest example. Victims sympathize with their attackers, they’ve even been known to assist—”

Dawn held up her hand. “Just stop right there, okay? I know about Stockholm and I know plenty of psychological BS that folks like to throw around about displacement and emotional attachment and blah-the-fuck blah.”

Macey’s eyes widened.

“Let’s cut to the chase. I didn’t kill that poor woman.” Her gaze darted to the chilling photo. “I’m not some copycat. I’m not some insane killer who’s trying to emulate the man who attacked her.” The very idea made her stomach twist. “And if that’s the profile you’re going with, then maybe you need to head back to Quantico for some refresher courses on behavioral analysis because you are seriously off the mark.”

Macey eased out a slow breath. “You being in this town while this murder has occurred isn’t a coincidence.”

No, Dawn didn’t think so, either.

“The coroner is working on the time of death now, and once we have that, we will be asking you for an alibi.”

This was bullshit. “He froze her. We both know that you’ll be lucky if you can pinpoint her death down to a period of a few weeks. No way you’re going to get it down to an exact day. I know the Orleans Parish coroner, and Julia Bradford is a great doctor, but she’s not some kind of wizard. She can’t do the impossible.” She’d just called the FBI’s bluff there.

Macey and Anthony shared a long stare.

“I know a bit about forensic science,” Dawn murmured. “Call it a hobby.” And that wonderful Orleans Parish coroner? Well, Julia happened to be one of the few people Dawn could call a friend in that town.

“We’re hopeful,” Macey said slowly, “that a general time of death can be identified.”

Don’t hold your breath on that one.

“But...” Macey’s stare had sharpened on her. “If you’re not involved—”

“I’m not.” They could be clear on that. She didn’t get her jollies by murdering people.

“Then that could mean something very dangerous for you. It could mean that the killer is here because you are.”

Enough. She’d heard more than enough from the woman with the scars that snaked down her arms and the hint of pain that shadowed her unusual eyes. “I’m done here now.” Because she couldn’t breathe in this little room. The dead woman’s image was in her head, her heart was about to burst out of her chest and the tiny walls of the interrogation room seemed to be closing in on her.

“I understand.” Macey inclined her head. “But if you decide you do want to talk more, I hope you’ll contact me.” Macey pulled a small white business card from her pocket and offered it to Dawn.

Dawn took the card without glancing at it. She headed for the door, but something was nagging at her. Her fingers curled around the doorknob. Walk out. Walk away. But...

The victim was still in her head.

And the tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall seemed far too loud.

“Not as easy to walk away as one would think, is it?” Macey murmured.

No, it wasn’t. “Do you know who she was?”

“Not yet.” It was Anthony who replied. “She’s listed as a Jane Doe, but we hope to learn more soon.”

Dawn licked dry lips. “What a terrible death. Tortured and frozen away, then when you’re found, no one even knows who you are.” She looked back at Macey. “That could have been my death.”