"He's not the killer." She hurried down the street. She'd just caught sight of a news van. So at least one reporter was there. Dawn lowered her head and hunched her shoulders, not wanting to catch the attention of that crew.
Bowen kept pace with her. "But he...is a killer. We both know that. He killed Jason for you."
As soon as she crossed the street-and got away from that news van-Dawn spun to face Bowen. "Let's be clear. Tucker killed Jason to protect me. Not because he's some psychotic murderer, and, yes, I believe that with certainty. I trust him." She started marching again.
"You didn't trust him before. After Jason's attack on you, you kicked him out of your life. Why? What happened to make you fear him so much then?"
"Really? Here? On the street? This is where you want to have this conversation?" At least they were far enough away from the station that prying eyes weren't on her, and, since it was early in the day, the area was fairly deserted. Her eyes narrowed on him. "Fine. But you already know this. I was a broken twenty-one-year-old girl. A serial killer had just spent hours torturing me and telling me that the man I loved was in on his crimes. He'd told me-"
"Wait." His face had gone grim. "Jason said Tucker was involved?"
Crap. Now she was making mistakes. "Jason Frost was a liar. A manipulator. He wanted to cause me maximum pain, and he did." By breaking my heart. "Tucker came. He saved me. He killed his brother to keep me safe so that-"
"Did you ever wonder if he killed his brother so that Jason couldn't tell you the truth about Tucker's involvement in the Iceman crimes?"
She felt sweat trickle down her back. It was early in the day, but the humidity was already like a blanket covering her. "Is this some kind of good cop, bad cop bit? Were you told to grill me and see if I had doubts about Tucker?"
He stared back at her. A car whizzed past them. "Do you?"
Her chin notched up. "Screw off, Agent Murphy. If you won't back your own teammate, you're no good to me." She whirled away from him and hurried down the street.
///
* * *
"YOU UNDERSTAND, OF COURSE, why we needed to bring you in for questioning." It was Captain Harold Hatch who spoke. He rubbed his chin and assessed Tucker.
"Yeah, I get it." Didn't mean he liked it. Tucker waved his hand toward the others in the room. A watchful Samantha. A glowering Anthony. "You want to make sure I'm not some serial killer..."
"Or that you're not protecting one," Hatch murmured, his bushy brows lowering over his brown eyes.
"Again," Anthony added.
Tucker's fingers pressed lightly on the table. "I didn't protect Jason before. I don't know who this killer is, but I'm not doing anything to help him." Partial match. His head had been spinning ever since Samantha had dropped that bombshell. He didn't think the match was bullshit. He did wonder though...
Who is it?
Was it possible that Jason had a son out there? Or maybe...maybe their dad had even had another kid? They'd never seen their dad with another woman after their mom died, but, maybe...
"Have you been stalking Dawn Alexander?" Hatch asked.
He was leading the interview. Samantha had a personal relationship with Tucker, so she was hanging back, and Anthony...well, the captain had pulled rank on him.
"No," Tucker said quietly. "I haven't." Rage would get him nowhere. He had to answer the questions, play his cooperating role, and then he'd get back to Dawn.
"What about the trips you took to New Orleans? Were you just here because you enjoyed our jazz music?" Hatch's voice was doubting.
Samantha watched him with a hooded gaze. He should have told her about the trips. When she'd first come to him with the case, he should have mentioned that he'd been visiting New Orleans. But, shit, he'd thought it wouldn't matter.
He'd been wrong.
Tucker chose his words carefully. "My brother nearly destroyed Dawn's life. I checked up on her because I felt...protective where she was concerned." His response was calm. He knew how interrogations worked. And he knew how not to fuck one up. "I didn't think she wanted to see me, so I made sure not to intrude in her life."
"So...what?" Anthony butted in to ask. "You were some kind of guardian angel for her? Is that what you're saying?"
Tucker's head cocked as he studied the detective. "No. I'm saying I wanted to look out for a woman I'd cared about."
"Cared. Past tense."