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If there had ever been a time Eden St. Claire hadn’t pushed the boundaries of good judgment, Cole couldn’t remember it. Act first, worry later was her mantra.
But, he reminded himself, Jack McTavish was solid. Cole’s partner would keep the crime scene clear and their superiors at bay. And when he couldn’t, Cole would get a 222 text message.
Obviously it was past time to give Eden an emergency code. If for no other reason than to preserve Cole’s sanity.
Guilt then stabbed at his gut. Cole should have known something was wrong when Eden missed their weekly confab at Monroe’s Coffeehouse. Or he might have, if they hadn’t had that rip-roaring argument last week when he’d told her she was being reckless with her reporting. Instead of worrying when she didn’t show, he’d assumed she was trying to teach him a lesson and had ditched him. She’d done it in the past when she’d gotten too caught up in one of her stories.
His frustration boiled over. That crazy blog of hers had gotten out of control. Eden on Ice. Bad enough she’d gone to journalism school—as a cop, he wasn’t overly fond of interfering reporters to begin with. No, she had to supplement her crime-reporter income from the Sacramento Tribune by running a blog that kept tabs on killers, serial and otherwise, who were reputedly in California, Nevada or Oregon. She’d quickly gained a certain reputation with law-enforcement agencies—and not necessarily for the better. If Eden felt justice hadn’t been served or if one of these lowlifes was on the loose, watch out. Chances were the suspected killer featured in Eden St. Claire’s database.
Not that she’d paid any mind to others besides the Iceman in recent months. Her fixation had almost done her in once and for all.
He watched as Eden’s eyes drifted closed and her head lolled to the side.
Finally. She was asleep and Cole felt as if he could breathe. He sagged against the wall.
When was he going to learn that nothing good ever happened between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m.? His father had called it “the hour of the wolf,” when evil lurked, waiting for the opportunity to strike.
And phone calls at that time?
It was never happy news.
What relief he’d felt when he’d seen her name on his caller ID vanished when the disguised voice on the other end told him to hurry...to find her...before it was too late.
Cole didn’t know what was more unsettling. The fact he hadn’t known Eden was missing or that it was the Iceman himself who had seen fit to inform him where she could be found.
Oh, his lieutenant was going to love the fact a serial killer now had Cole’s direct number.
Even worse? Tonight’s events meant that Eden had been right all along. The Iceman hadn’t left the Central Valley area. He was still killing, and, as of a few hours ago, had upped the stakes considerably.
Cole took advantage of Eden sleeping and slipped into the hallway. He kept one eye on the open door to her exam room as he answered the call from one of the evidence techs on the case. “Hey, Tammy. What’s up?”
“Thought you’d want to know. The officers you had checking on Eden’s house reported in. They found her car parked in her driveway. Her purse and cell phone are inside. Doors are locked, house and car keys were wedged under some kind of gargoyle on her front porch. No sign of a break-in.”
A shiver raced down his spine. “He knows where she lives.” And how she lived. That she kept her spare key in that hideously adorable creature was a long-running joke—and secret—between the two of them. She had an entire collection of creepy, ugly ornaments scattered about that porch and backyard.
Given the growing popularity of her blog—she had a massive following—the fact she’d captured the attention of her latest obsession and target didn’t surprise him. What nerve had she struck that awakened the Iceman from his hibernation?
“Did they find any prints?” Cole asked around a too-tight throat. He saw Eden’s feet move under the pile of blankets and shifted to be able to watch her more clearly.
“Running them now. So far all they’ve found are Eden’s. Looks like another dead end. Oh, wow.” Tammy hissed in a sharp breath. “Wrong thing to say, sorry.”
Cole found himself smiling thanks to that odd sense of humor most cops possessed. “It would have been if we’d gotten there any later. Thanks, Tammy. Let McTavish know, will you? I’ll be on scene as soon as I can.”
“Tell Eden when she’s better she owes me a bottle of Cuervo.”
Cole frowned. “Why?”
Tammy clicked her tongue. “She’ll know. Just give her the message.”
He’d better not find out Eden had been bribing his techs for information again.
“Detective Delaney?” A lanky middle-aged man in scrubs and a white coat headed toward him, the dark circles under his eyes made more pronounced by the thin wire-rim glasses. “I’m Dr. Collins. The nurse at the desk said I should talk to you about Ms. St. Claire before I examine her?”
Cole pocketed his phone and shook the doctor’s hand. “I need to be in there when you examine her.”
“Are you a family—”
“I have her medical power of attorney.” Cole recited his argument from memory. “You don’t have her file here, but suffice it to say she has a severe phobia when it comes to hospitals, and, no offense, to doctors.” The fact Eden held no control over her fear had been a topic of late-night conversation on more than one occasion. “I’m not talking issues, mind you. I’m talking full-blown panic attacks. You want me there if you want her coherent and amenable to your exam.”
“O—kay.” Dr. Collins’s grimace did little to reassure Cole that the physician understood the situation. “Has she considered therapy—”
“Preaching to the choir, Doc.” Cole gave a slow shake of his head. “Been there, tried everything. As long as there’s someone she trusts in the room, she pushes through. All the same, the sooner you get this over with, the better.” He made a beeline for Eden, much to the frustration of the nurses in her room. “Eden?” He took hold of her hand. “E? You need to wake up, okay? Just for a little while.”
He saw her tense, as if she were grinding her teeth, and her eyes opened so slowly he wondered if they’d been lined with lead.
“Sleepy.”
“It’s no wonder,” Dr. Collins said as he stood opposite Cole and accessed her test results on the nearby computer. “Your blood count is alarmingly low. Have you by any chance been diagnosed with anemia?”
“No.” Eden frowned as if it was difficult to concentrate. She stared down at her now bandaged wrists.
“I’ve done a preliminary exam and haven’t found any internal issues, Doctor,” the remaining nurse in the room said. “No swelling, no broken bones or fractures, and she’s not complaining of any pain.”
“We’ll double-check all that. In the meantime, the saline should get those numbers up. Ms. St. Claire? Eden?” Dr. Collins, clearly taking a cue from Cole, kept his voice low and calm as he asked, “I’d like to examine you, if that’s okay? Detective Delaney can stay here with you. We want you to be calm. We’ll get through this, I promise.”
Eden squeezed Cole’s hand so tightly he almost lost circulation. “All right.”
Cole blanked his mind as Dr. Collins kept his word, examining Eden with a thorough efficiency that made Cole wonder if the AMA should consider cloning him.
“Eden, the nurse said you told her you had not been sexually assaulted.”
“That’s right.” Eden’s voice was tight and her fingers went white around Cole’s hand.
“But you were unconscious for a period of time.” He hesitated. “I’d like your permission to conduct a sexual-assault exam.”
Eden squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, but a solitary tear slipped down her cheek. Cole swallowed and pretended not to notice. “Do I know how to show you a good time or what?” she joked in such a strained voice Cole’s heart constricted. “Do it,” she said.
Cole’s admiration for Eden—and all women—amplified exponentially as Dr. Collins proceeded.
A few moments went by and Dr. Collins murmured to the nurse, “No indication of sexual assault.” He gave Cole a quick nod of reassurance. “Now. Let’s see what we have here.” He skimmed his hands up her left arm, tangled with the IV line and needle poking into her skin, before checking Eden’s other arm. “Nurse? Did you or one of your assistants attempt to put a line in on her right side?”
“No, Doctor.” The nurse leaned over the bed and followed the doctor’s gaze to the bruises forming in the crook of Eden’s arm. “I did make note of a similar puncture wound in the side of her neck. Excuse me, Detective.” The nurse circled around and gently held Eden’s head to the side. “It’s small, but there’s a bruise forming.”
“We’ll get you pictures, Detective.” Dr. Collins tapped away on the bedside computer. “Her first blood results are in and there are trace amounts of Propofol in your system. I want to run more tests, but we won’t get the results until later this morning. Eden?” Dr. Collins rested his hands on the railing and bent down so she had no choice but to look at him. “Eden, I want to admit you overnight. We need to get your blood count stabilized.”
Her eyes went wide before they drooped.
“I know you don’t want to be here, but I don’t like those marks you have. Give me twelve hours, Eden. That’s all I’m asking for. And I can sedate you for most of them if you want.”
“Wh-what do you think you’ll find?” She sounded little-girl scared, a sure sign she wasn’t herself yet.
“I can’t be certain, but I need you to trust me. Just for a little while. Can you do that?”
“Cole?” Eden shifted and looked him in the eye. “Will you be here when I wake up?”
“Where else would I be?” He squeezed her hand as his heart started thudding an uneasy rhythm.
“’Kay. Put me out.”
“When you feel up to it—” Cole bent close and whispered to her as the nurse and Dr. Collins discussed the amount of sedative “—you and I are going to have a very long talk about what happened tonight. You hear me, Eden?”
He ignored every warning blaring in his head telling him to keep an emotional distance, but this was Eden. There wasn’t any distance to be had. “You’re done doing things this way. Understand?”
“Mmm.” She nodded as her face relaxed into a goofy smile. “I hear you. Don’t agree, though. He’s out there. Hunting.” She groggily patted his hand as the nurse injected the sedative into her IV. “Gotta get him. Gotta get all of them. For Chloe...”
And then she was out.
“Doctor?” Cole placed her hand gently on the bed.
“Outside, please.” Dr. Collins led him into the hallway and drew Eden’s door almost shut. “I can’t be certain, but given her platelet and red cell count, I’d say her blood’s been drained. Enough that I’m seeing more signs of that than the hypothermia. I’ll know more once those tests come back. If you’ll excuse me.”
Cole nodded, then caught the nurse as she came out of Eden’s room. “How much of the sedative did you give her?”
“She’ll be out for six, maybe seven hours.”
“I’ll be back in five.”
Chapter 3
It was an hour before Cole pulled into the parking lot of the deserted warehouse off Parkway Boulevard in West Sac. At a little before 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday, traffic was nonexistent. Patrol cars from both his and the West Sac department sat scattered about, their lights casting eerie blinding beams into the still-dark morning. Yellow crime-scene tape cordoned off the area. Behind him, the gold silhouette of the landmark Tower Bridge loomed over the city. Two coroner vans, along with two dark sedans, told him more than one department superior was on scene.
As were several news crews. Irritation singed his nerves. Then he realized it was better to deal with them here than have them staking out Eden’s bedside. The longer her situation remained under wraps, the better. Especially for Eden.
Eden.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the icy blast of that meat locker or her frozen hands clutching at him as he’d carried her out of the building. Feeling her shiver, listening to her struggle for air... Cole didn’t think he’d ever complain again about how high the temperatures were in the valley.
His breath escaped in short white puffs as he closed up his SUV and returned to the scene, carrying the tray of steaming coffee cups to his team.
The building was old, long abandoned and beyond neglected. Looking at it from the outside, someone would have had to already know there was a freezer on the premises. Perhaps that list of someones would give them their first lead in months.
The investigating unit had been busy. They’d set up portable spotlights in the four corners of the expansive main area and assembled their equipment. Besides the rusting steel and corroded machine parts, evidence of squatters and remnants of various rodent visitors lay about. A mishmash of footprints could be seen in the buildup of dust and debris on the floor.
Searching for usable evidence would be futile. If there had been any at all, it had been obliterated by him and his men in their rush to get to Eden. Something he’d bet the Iceman had counted on.
The pure joy that surged through him when he’d found Eden alive had nearly overwhelmed him. He’d expected the worst. What else could he think given he’d been taunted by a sociopathic serial killer? In so doing, the Iceman had flipped the entire case on its head.
With all the attention Eden had given the Iceman in recent months, the killer must have had enough; he’d decided to return the favor.
Bile rose in Cole’s throat.
There was only one reason the Iceman hadn’t murdered Eden.
He wasn’t done with her yet.
If the Iceman planned to try again, he’d have to get through Cole first.
“Thought you’d call me with an update before you got here.” Jack McTavish emerged from the freezer and grabbed the large paper cup Cole handed to him.
“Tried. My phone’s been dropping calls since I changed carriers.” He managed a tired smile. “So I drove faster.”
“How’s Eden doing?” Jack drank deeply and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
“Sedated, but good. I put two officers on her until I get back there.” Which Cole was anxious to do, he realized.
Jack gave him a quick nod. His partner was Cole’s age, but there were times he acted a decade younger. Thirty-two as of last week—a celebration that had resulted in a two-day hangover for half the squad—his buddy reminded Cole of one of those ’80s TV cops with his good looks, sturdy stance and dedication that shone in too-wise dark brown eyes.
They’d been partners for a little over a year, ever since Jack had moved west from Chicago, but Cole was confident that Jack was a good cop. Solid. Dependable. One who would take this attack on someone Cole considered family as personally as he did.
“What have we got?” Cole asked him.
“I wish we could say it’s a gold mine.” Jack sounded as frustrated as Cole felt. “Other than eight corpses, and an agreement from the West Sac department for us to take the lead, not much.”
“So he is still hunting.” In any other circumstances, Cole might have smiled at Eden being a step ahead of them. “He was just hiding deeper underground.” Cole walked into the freezer, his eyes immediately going to the hook hanging from the ceiling.
Fresh rage descended and he gritted his teeth. He scanned the line of bodies and saw the pale copper-blond hair of a young woman. For an instant, he envisioned Eden’s face on the corpse. He attributed the unease to the arctic freezer temps, rather than dwell on the fact that he easily could have been too late.
He’d seen a lot during his ten years on the force, especially in the last two, serving as a detective. The crimes, the victims, the aftermath of what human beings were capable of inflicting on one another were like slash marks on his soul. Was it any wonder some cops lost their faith in...everything? But when the victim was someone you knew, someone you cared about... The breath he exhaled may as well have been fire, given the anger behind it.
Cole’s eyes burned as he blinked the vision of Eden away, but he couldn’t stop the image of her hanging in this place. What had been going through her head? Had she been awake? Screaming?
No. Eden wouldn’t have screamed. She’d done exactly what he would have expected her to do: she got herself down.
“Eden was lucky,” Jack muttered as if sensing where Cole’s thoughts had taken him.
“I doubt luck had much to do with it,” Cole said. Their killer had wanted Eden found. “Glad to see Hendrix is on scene.” He inclined his head toward the older silver-haired woman standing in front of a row of gurneys. The medical examiner headed up the entire forensic division, as well she should, given her nearly twenty-five years on the job.
“They’re taking bets,” Jack said. “This big a development, odds are it’s less than twenty-four hours before the Feds arrive.”
Not one to pass on a sure thing, he said, “Give me ten on twenty-three. Mona,” Cole acknowledged the coroner and stepped over to greet her and hand over the last cup of coffee. “Any idea how long they’ve been dead?”
“Won’t know for sure until the bodies thaw out.” Mona Hendrix gazed upon the first two that had been removed, her laser-like blue eyes widening behind thin wire frames. “But these aren’t recent kills. I’d say anywhere from a few weeks to a few months. So, Cole, tell me, what do you see?”
He hated this necessary game, but at least the frozen corpses didn’t have that sickly sour stench that crept into his nostrils and settled in the back of his throat. Instead the stench had been partially obscured by the frost.
“Their clothes are all still intact,” he observed, blanking out the fact that these people had once been living, breathing members of society. “And so are the bodies. No mutilations visible. Strange.” The previous three victims had been cut open, organs left exposed. These bodies didn’t have that. “A change in MO? Or are you saying it’s a different killer? This isn’t the Iceman?”
Mona glanced at him, disapproval evident in her face. “You know better than to put words in my mouth, Detective. I asked for what you see. I didn’t say tell me what I was thinking.”
Cole circled the gurneys, checking for differences, any variances from the first three victims’ files he’d memorized, a necessity a month back after realizing Eden had the Iceman in her sights. She might be used to working alone, but she wasn’t a cop. Somebody had to be her backup. “Like the original three victims, there doesn’t seem to be any racial, physical or gender-specific commonalities, but how they were found and where...”
The Iceman had led him to this spot. Brought Eden here. Eden... She hadn’t been focused on anyone other than the Iceman for ages. Who else could it be?
“What about their blood?” he asked and gave himself a mental pat on the back when Mona blinked wide eyes at him. It took a lot to surprise her.
“Their blood?”
Cole bent close and examined the side of the neck of one of the victims. “We need to take another look at the previous bodies.” He did the same check on the present victims, pointing to round puncture markings near the jugular in each case. “Eden’s doctor found these same pinpricks and bruises, only smaller, and on her arm, too. He believes whoever took her also took a significant portion of her blood.”
“Is that so. Well, it’s good to have a starting point, but it’ll be a few days before I can confirm that.”
“How about prints?” McTavish asked.
“We’ve got in one of those fancy new digital scanners. We’ll see how well it works. In the meantime, I’ll pull the files of the previous victims and go through them again. Interesting. Given their injuries, any blood loss would have been attributed to those markings, but you’re suggesting the blood itself was what he was after? I’ll take another run at the photos, too, see if I can find any more wounds similar to these. So, is it him?”
“Going by the evidence in front of us?” Cole cast doubtful eyes to Jack, who shrugged. “I can’t say for certain. But my gut tells me it is. There’s a reason we didn’t get anything from him in almost two years. If he’s changed MOs, that could explain it. I’ll have Dr. Collins send you a sample of Eden’s blood to have something to compare.” For the first time, he felt a crack, however thin, appear in the case.
“Sounds good.” Mona returned to the freezer to supervise the removal of the rest of the victims.
“What game is he playing?” Cole couldn’t wrap his brain around the scene. “There’s so much that’s wrong. If I hadn’t gotten that call from him, I might not even believe it myself.” And hesitation, as Cole knew all too well, could be a cop’s worst enemy.
“Buck up, Delaney.” Jack shifted on his feet. Cole turned. “Boss is in the house.”
“And he’s brought a friend. Looks like I should have bet on a shorter time.” Even Cole wouldn’t have guessed the FBI would turn up within a half hour. “Lieutenant.” Cole nodded at Kevin Santos, a cop with twenty years’ experience, most of it in homicide, despite the fact that he looked like a computer geek. Three years behind the lieutenant’s desk hadn’t dulled his detective skills one bit. Nor had it affected his capacity to detect what Cole’s grandfather would have called nonsense.
“Detectives Delaney and McTavish,” Lieutenant Santos greeted them and approached them with a guarded look in his eyes. He gestured to the man behind him. “This is Agent Anthony Simmons, our new local FBI liaison. His office is suggesting we establish a task force on the Iceman investigation.”
“Shoot,” Jack muttered. “Missed it by two hours.”
Cole noted his lieutenant’s arched brow and wondered if his superior had entered the betting pool himself. “Sir, while we value the FBI’s willingness to help—”
“We do?” Jack choked on his coffee.
“Respectfully, Agent Simmons,” Cole said, as politely as possible, “nobody knows this case better than my team.”
“That may be true.” With dark, tired eyes, and a wariness that spoke of too many years on the job, Agent Simmons gave a slow nod. “But you have to admit, given this morning’s developments, one has to wonder if you and your team should have known he’d surface again.”
Whatever congeniality Cole might have been willing to extend to Agent Simmons evaporated. “I don’t have to admit anything.” Cole stretched his lips into a wide smile as his coffee churned in his stomach. “Someone did know, but that someone isn’t a cop.”
“Delaney.” Santos’s voice held that hint of warning that set cops’ hearts to thudding.
“That would be Eden St. Claire, the woman found alive in the freezer?” Agent Simmons asked. “I’d like to interview her as soon as possible.”
Cole’s eyes narrowed as he sipped again. “I’m sure you would.”
“I brought you here for introductions, Agent Simmons. Not to get into an argument with my detectives.” Lieutenant Santos put his hands deep into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
Cole cast a sideways glance at his partner and tried not to smile. Their boss had a long fuse, but the “pocket rock” was a definite sign Agent Simmons had lit it in record time.
“Unless the FBI is officially taking over the case, Delaney will remain in charge. You’re welcome to stick around, sit in on the meetings and interviews, even work it with his team, but we make the calls. Understood?”
“A task force is just that. A force,” Agent Simmons replied with something akin to a growl in his voice. “I would like to be present when Ms. St. Claire is able to be questioned.”
Cole wasn’t letting this guy anywhere near Eden; at least not until he had the chance to talk to her himself. “She’s been sedated for at least the next twelve hours,” Cole lied. “They aren’t sure of the emotional trauma the attack might have had.” He ignored the surprise that flashed across his lieutenant’s face. Santos—along with the rest of the Sacramento PD—was well acquainted with Eden and her...proclivities. Emotional trauma tended to have the opposite effect on Eden. If anything, it made her more obstinate, more focused than normal.