Before the Dawn(29)

He reached out his hand. She put the money on his palm and then-

He snatched the bills and ran.

"Red!" She chased after him, but that guy was fast. He shot through the building, zigging and zagging. He knew the building, she didn't, and she was getting lost in the tangle of rooms. Like being in a maze. She stumbled after him, doing her best to follow his pounding footsteps, but then he was bursting out the front door. She yelled after him, but Red wasn't stopping. He tore through the yellow tape and kept going.

And her phone was still ringing. She yanked the phone from her pocket, not even stopping to see who was calling. "What?" She scampered down the steps, her gaze jerking to the left and to the right.

There was a pause and then... "Dawn?"

Tucker. She swallowed and edged toward the little gap between two buildings. Too small to be called a real alley. "I could use some backup," she told him. "It would really be appreciated right now." Because there was too much ground to cover. Red had her at a disadvantage. He would know all the hiding spaces around that area. All the quick exits. And she was just following blindly.

"What? Where are you?"

"I'm at the warehouse. The scene of our Jane Doe's imprisonment. And a witness just gave me the slip."

* * *

"HOW DID YOUR team miss the witness?"

Tucker was pissed. Dawn thought that was pretty evident to everyone gathered at the warehouse. When she'd said she wanted backup, Dawn hadn't quite realized just how big her cavalry would be. 

Tucker had arrived. Macey had arrived. Anthony had come running, along with his partner, Detective Ronald Torez. The group was assembled in front of the now-ripped line of police tape, and Tucker's low, cutting voice contained more than enough fury to torch New Orleans.

"I don't know," Anthony growled back. His eyes were covered by a pair of mirrored sunglasses. "But you can bet I'll be finding out. Uniforms cased the scene. They should have found our guy."

"Not if Red didn't want to be found," Dawn said. Maybe he'd felt intimidated by all of the uniforms and he'd hidden from them. But when it had just been her there...he came out to play.

Anthony's lips thinned. "The guy was really living here the whole damn time that woman was in the freezer?"

"She has a name," Macey spoke up. "Heather Hartley." Her gaze cut to Dawn. "We ID'd her. Heather was only twenty-one. Former LSU student. A girl who went to the same high school you did."

And I was twenty-one when Jason took me. Even though she was sweating under the hot heat of the sun, the breath that Dawn took seemed to chill her lungs. "Red gave me the guy's gloves."

Gloves that had already been bagged and tagged by Macey.

"Maybe there is some DNA evidence on them. Something we can use. Red said they'd been hidden the whole time."

"I'll get the FBI's team to check them," Macey said.

"But-" Anthony began, his cheeks red.

"Our team is faster." Macey wasn't mincing words. "We can let the NOPD handle it and get caught in your backlog or I can contact my boss, Samantha Dark, and she will give this evidence priority. We'll have results faster than you can blink."

He blinked.

"The FBI is taking point on this now." Tucker's voice was still that lethal rasp. "Every bit of evidence we are collecting is pointing to the fact that we could be looking at a serial. This isn't a one-and-done deal, not if our guy went to the trouble of finding a victim from the Iceman's home turf. He's emulating the Iceman too perfectly. There will be another victim. We have to act, right now, and by getting these gloves to our team, we will save valuable time."

A muscle jerked in Anthony's jaw, but he nodded grimly.

Torez rubbed the back of his neck as he studied Dawn. Everyone called the guy Torez, never Ronald. He hated being called Ronald, she knew that from past experience. In his midthirties, Torez had transferred from Biloxi just last year. He was a quiet guy, intense, but he always seemed to have Anthony's back-a good trait in a partner. "You gonna be able to give us a good description of Red?"

"Five foot nine, maybe one hundred and thirty-five pounds." He'd been so terribly thin. "He was bald, but he had a long, grizzled beard, one with red streaks. Dark eyes, thin cheeks." She quickly described the clothing he'd worn. "I think this guy is a loner, so I doubt he'll show up at any shelters. You can still check them but-" her gaze swept back to the building "-my money says he'll come back here." Home. "So you should put a patrol on the warehouse."


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