Justice was coming. Payback.
And it would be an ice-cold son of a bitch.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHE'D COME WITH HIM. Holy hell, but that had been a gamble. He'd been pretty sure Dawn would tell him to screw off with his offer of a safe house. And if she'd said that...
Then there would have been no choice. He would have been forced to take her into protective custody because there was no way Tucker could leave her on her own.
"There were only nine roses in the bouquet." The words slipped from him as he drove through the city. He risked a quick glance at Dawn and saw that she was staring out of the window, as if searching the crowd.
"I have nine rose tattoos on my body, just nine." Her voice was soft. "He knew."
Yes, because... "I think he knew Jinx." He stopped at a red light. She had turned her head to look at him, but it wasn't bright enough in the SUV's interior for him to see her eyes. He wished that he could see them. "If this guy has been coming into your home like you said-and I fully believe that-then he had to be using the passage from her place for a while." It had looked like some kind of old-school dumbwaiter. "So this was a man that she let into her home."
"Jinx didn't let some jerk break into my home! She didn't let some guy terrorize me!"
The light changed. He accelerated even as he shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I don't think she was involved in anything he did. I think the guy was using her..."
Silence. "In order to get to me?"
"Yes." He had been building a profile on this perp, one step at a time. "I think we're looking at a meticulous killer." He had to be, in order to duplicate the Iceman's work so completely. "And he wanted to be sure he was capable of committing the perfect crime, so he needed a trial victim."
"Heather."
A victim from Jason's old stomping grounds. Homage to the master? "And then he had to get rid of Jinx because she knew who he was." That was part of the reason. He didn't tell Dawn the other part-that Tucker believed the bastard had killed Jinx...in order to hurt you, Dawn. He knew she was your friend and he wanted that pain to rip straight through you.
And it had. He'd seen Dawn nearly collapse when she'd opened that freezer.
There were many forms of torture. The worst kinds didn't always involve the slice of knife.
"We have to find Red." Her voice had sharpened. "He saw the killer, too. We can get him to the police station, have him work with a sketch artist..."
Tucker wasn't sure how reliable Red's memory would prove to be, but he was willing to give the guy a shot.
"There's a restaurant on the next street. The owner, Jones, usually gives the day's leftovers to the homeless. Let's stop and talk to him."
After everything that had just happened, she wanted to keep hunting? He wanted her off the streets, he wanted-
Her hand curled around his wrist. "Please, Tucker. Please. I need to do this. Jones is a friend of mine. He can help us to find Red. I meant to call him earlier, but then..."
Then she'd found Jinx dead.
"I have to do something to help her. It won't take long, I promise. Just a quick stop. And you're with me. I'm safe when you're with me, right?"
///
Always. Without another word, he turned at the next street. Dawn knew the city and the people there. If she had a contact that would help them find Red, he would use it.
"It's that one." She pointed. "Dressed."
The small restaurant seemed packed. Lights glowed from inside and he saw a line of customers spilling out from the entrance.
"Jones has the best po'boys in town."
Dressed. Right. The name made more sense now. Dressed-with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and mayonnaise-well, that was the only way to eat a good po'boy. He parked at the curb. There were plenty of people strolling on the streets. Tourists always seemed to be out in this city.
Dawn jumped from the vehicle, but she didn't head toward the front of Dressed. Instead, she went to the back, snaking through a small alleyway, and Tucker followed right behind her. She rapped on the door back there, and it opened a moment later. A man stood there, towering over Dawn. He had bright white hair and dark skin-and forearms that looked decidedly like tree trunks. The man wore a faded white apron and he held a white paper bag in his hand. But he blinked when he saw Tucker and Dawn.
"Hi, Jones." She gave him a weak smile. "Do you have a moment?"
Jones put the bag down on the counter. Then he grabbed Dawn, pulling her close in a crushing hug. "Been too long."