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.”
And now someone is here, using the Iceman’s MO. Dawn had to ask, “Was she dead when he put her in the freezer?” Or did she die in that cold hell?
Macey was watching her so carefully. “We don’t know yet. That’s one of the things we hope to learn soon.”
Sounded to Dawn as if they didn’t know one whole hell of a lot. “One more question...” She glanced over her shoulder, looking first at Anthony then at Macey. “Who’s been watching me?”
Macey’s eyes widened the smallest bit. “Excuse me?”
“Who’s behind the glass, watching me?” Because she knew someone was there. “Your partner?” In her experience, no FBI agent ever went into the field alone.
Macey shared a quick look with Anthony.
Her partner. Hit that one dead on.
“We thought you might be more comfortable speaking with a female agent,” Macey said, her voice smooth and her expression giving nothing away.
Sure, sometimes agents used that ploy, but...
They’re dealing with a killer who is acting like the Iceman. And one of the FBI’s own agents has personal experience with that SOB. Would the powers-that-be at the FBI have sent him in? Would they have thought he was an asset on this case?
Or would they have wanted to keep Tucker Frost far away from this scene?
“Tucker.” His name slipped from her, helplessly.
And there it was... Macey’s gaze jerked toward the glass. A fast glance, one that, if Dawn hadn’t been monitoring the other woman so closely, she would have missed. But in the last few years, Dawn had worked hard to stop missing things. To study her environment. To watch others. To learn their secrets.
Macey
