LITMIR.BIZ

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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.”

      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

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