Before the Dawn(89)

She's my age. We have the same friend. Live in the same town. Probably go to the same bars.

"The whole city will feel better when this Iceman is gone." He walked toward her desk and put a white paper bag on her calendar. One look, and she knew he'd brought her a po'boy. That was her dad-food was always a comfort. The way to heal any ill.

But she didn't have an appetite. Not that day. Not with Jinx's wounds still in her mind. "The Iceman is dead. I have to find clues to tell me who this guy is."

"Hmm... I read in the paper that it was the Iceman. That he was hunting again."

"You can't believe everything you read."

His head tilted as he studied her. "You always let the dead speak to you. You'll find your clues."

She wished she had his confidence.

"Is...Red here?"

She motioned to the back, to the cold storage. "Yes."

His hands twisted in front of him. Such big, strong hands. Hands that had always touched her with such gentleness. "And the other one...the boy?"

"He was brought in, but...I haven't been able to see him yet." Too many bodies. It was literally an all-hands-on-deck situation and she would be getting more backup in her lab.

"Wish I'd kept him with me. So many lost souls out there. We should be able to save them." Sadness flashed on his face. That was her dad-a heart as big as the world.

Julia went to him and gave him a tight hug. "Thanks for the po'boy."

"You eat it. Put more meat on your bones."

She couldn't promise to eat so she didn't say anything. She never lied to her father.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "When you get ready to go home, you call me. I'll be taking you."

"Dad, no, that's not-"

"A serial killer is in my city. You're the thing that matters most in the world to me. If you want me to sleep at all tonight, you'll call me."

And she knew he meant those words. "I'll call you."

Because Jinx's image was too strong. Jinx's pain was too real. Her father left a few moments later. She put on her lab coat. She put on her gloves. And then she turned on her music-soft, drifting music. Light jazz. The kind of music her father had raised her to love.

She went back to Jinx. Julia pulled back the sheet, studying the other woman's knife wounds. Measuring them, noting them. Then studying her body, looking for bruises that had developed. And there were plenty of bruises. She photographed them-the bruises and Jinx's tattoos. Her body had truly been a work of art.

Before he turned his knife on her.

Jinx was still clad in her bra and panties. Carefully, Julia took a pair of scissors from her instrument tray and cut the panties away. She'd had to wait until they thawed, too, because when Jinx had first come in, the cotton had nearly been melded to her flesh. But now the panties slid away as the scissors cut through the fabric.


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Her eyes narrowed. Another tattoo had just been revealed. On the side of Jinx's hip, one that had been covered by the underwear. Julia pulled a light toward Jinx, shining it on her left hip. "Well, I'll be damned." Her gloved fingers hovered over the area-it was raised, scabbing...because the tattoo was fresh.

A heart. Jinx had gotten a heart tattooed on her hip. And there was a letter inside that heart. Not just one letter. Two. Initials? Yes, yes, they were initials. Initials in a flowing, cursive font. The heart was broken in two pieces, and thorn-tipped vines wrapped around the heart. The detail was incredible. Julia pulled out a magnifying glass just so she could study the tattoo more carefully. There was no mistaking those letters.

You got this tattoo recently. It's a heart and I'm betting those letters are your lover's initials.

And the first initial was a T.

* * *

DAWN PRIED THE last nail free from the wall. She yanked down the heavy chunk of wood. Damn but that had taken too long. Bowen must have put twenty nails in the thing. She dropped the wood and picked up her flashlight, shining it down into the little corridor.

So dark. So still.

Her breath blew out and she knew there was no going back. She needed to search Jinx's place, but if she tried going through the door downstairs, one of the cops might see her-see her and stop her. Dawn made sure she had a gun, it was tucked into the back of her jeans, and with one hand still tightly gripping the flashlight, she climbed into the old chute. It was much bigger inside than she'd expected. The air tasted oddly stale inside, but there were no cobwebs. No dust.

Was that because the killer had used the secret entrance so much? Or because the cops had swept things down during their search?