A journalist and a sexy detective team up to catch a serial killer in USA TODAY bestselling author Anna J. Stewart’s new romance!

Haunted by the death of her childhood friend, journalist Eden St. Claire has dedicated her life to catching serial killers—and she’s always done so alone. But when the lethal murderer Eden is tracking puts her in danger’s crosshairs, she agrees to accept protection from longtime friend Detective Cole Delaney.

Cole has secretly carried a torch for Eden for years. She might not want to let anybody in, but the thought of losing her is unbearable. Passions flare as the threats intensify. Can Cole convince Eden to break her own rule to never fall in love...before the killer snuffs out their happily-ever-after?

Now here she was, standing in front of him, defiance personified, licking her full lips and meeting his gaze as he took one more step closer.

“Cole.” Eden pressed a hand against his chest, the warmth of her touch seeping through his shirt and reminding him that she, that he, was still very much alive. “What’re you doing?”

“Not sure I know.” But he wanted to find out. He’d almost lost her, almost lost this chance... He skimmed his fingers over the bandage on her wrist, unable to erase the image of the chains that had been there.

Cole lifted his hand, cupped her chin in his palm and leaned down, his eyes scanning her face as she searched his, confusion marring her brow as he dipped his head, and after he heard a soft sigh escape her mouth, he kissed her.

* * *

Be sure to check out the next stories

in this exciting miniseries!

Honor Bound—Seeking justice...and falling in love

* * *

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Dear Reader,

Years ago, my local RWA chapter, The Sacramento Valley Rose, held its annual Three-Page Read, an exercise in catching a reader’s attention within the first three pages of a story. This particular year, after having submitted numerous paranormal stories (and one historical), I wanted to do something different. So I wrote about a woman who wakes up and finds herself hanging in a meat locker. It was a hit but I put the story aside and almost...almost forgot about it.

Since then, I couldn’t shake the idea or the character. Eden St. Claire was one of those creations who took up residence in my brain, occasionally knocking, demanding her story be told. One of the questions I found myself asking was, what type of man would take this woman on? She’s angry, she’s determined, and when it comes to setting her mind on something, nothing’s going to deter her. But there might be one man, her late brother’s best friend, Detective Cole Delaney, who’s more than up for the challenge. Oh, yeah...now I was definitely onto something.

Cole scares her. She’s had enough to deal with in her life, enough loss. She doesn’t need any more changes, except maybe there is something beyond her need for seeking justice. Add in Eden’s two best friends, who share a childhood tragedy (each has her own hero waiting in the wings), and, well...this job doesn’t get much better than that. And it all began with three pages.

I hope you enjoy Eden and Cole’s journey as they fall for each other...and overcome a far darker danger from their past that’s lurking in the shadows.

Anna J.

More Than a Lawman

Anna J. Stewart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANNA J. STEWART, a USA TODAY and national bestselling author, loves to spend a free weekend curled up in her favorite chair with Snickers, her cat, remote in hand, flipping through whatever streaming service her Wi-Fi will connect to. A geek at heart, she loves blow-’em-up action and sci-fi movies and has rarely met a superhero she didn’t like. Anna writes both sweet contemporary and romantic suspense for Harlequin and believes that, when all is said and done, there’s nothing better than writing about falling in love, with a little action thrown in for good measure.

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For Eileen Rendhal

Thank you for your encouragement,

advice and friendship.

I want to be you when I grow up.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Icy air shot through Eden’s lungs.

She choked and dragged in breaths as fast as she could and moaned against the pain blazing across her shoulders. She lifted heavy lids and stared down at the yellowed laminate floor, nausea swirling as she swayed in the air.

Her face had gone numb with cold, freezing the terrified tears on her cheeks. Not just cold air. Arctic air.

Stale air.

A whimper escaped her throat as she twisted back and forth and kicked out, but the movement sent new waves of pain slicing through her, especially her arms. She’d never hung like a slab of meat in a freezer before, but she figured there had to be a first time for everything.

She licked her cracked, dry lips and forced her chin up and back. A solitary bulb blazed bright enough for her to look up and see the raw bruises forming around her chained wrists.

Panic set in, stealing what little breath she had. Her head pounded like a freight train had rumbled through her skull. She could hear the thudding of her heart in the tomb-like silence.

Hysteria clawed its way at her, but she ignored the terror as the image of the rusted metal hook that suspended her from the ceiling burrowed into her brain. Fear was useless. Fear wouldn’t do any good. Fear wouldn’t get her out alive.

She kicked harder this time, but only spun herself in a dizzying circle. She took advantage of the miscalculation and scanned her prison. And the bodies surrounding her in what could be her tomb.

No windows, only one door...

She whirled again as her mind caught up with her and questioned how she’d gotten here. The last thing she remembered was heading to Monroe’s to meet Cole...

Cole. Oh, God. Cole.

Wait. Eden squeezed her eyes shut. She recalled getting out of the car. She’d heard footsteps, heavy shoes, quick steps, alarming enough for her to reach into her bag for her stun gun, but an arm had locked around her throat before she could grasp it. And then she was...here.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She’d let down her guard, fallen into a routine. Predictability was as much an enemy to her as the criminals she stalked. What had she been thinking?

Eden dropped her head back, let out a long breath and blinked her eyes open. No use dwelling on mistakes she couldn’t change. Not when she had to figure out a means to escape. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness, even as she wished she could block out the sight in front of her.

Men and women, various ages, sizes and ethnicities, hung in similar fashion, only their arms were stiff at their sides, hooks pierced through what she hoped were their clothes. Every one of the eight bodies had the same horrified death mask. Icicles had formed on their extremities. Sheer, sharp blades of ice dangled from fingertips and noses.

Eden swallowed. How long had it taken them to die?

She wiggled tingling fingers. How long did she have?

Stop. Detach. Work it out. What do you see? What can help you?

Eden grasped at the calm she’d spent years honing as an investigative reporter. She couldn’t think about these people—people who had once led full lives, had friends and families who cared about them, were missing them. If...when, when she got out, she would do something for them.

Starting with bringing the Iceman to justice.

Even though she was already so cold, Eden’s blood chilled at the thought of the serial killer who had been preying in the Central Valley on and off for the past three years. They—the authorities—had believed he’d disappeared after leaving three frozen, mutilated corpses hanging in abandoned food storage facilities within the Sacramento region, but Eden always suspected otherwise. Her frigid companions proved her right. The Iceman had been stocking up; storing his victims for this one big reveal.

The killer probably thought of Eden as the candle on the cake.

“Okay...whatever God is up there...if I get out of this, I’ll tell Cole he was right.” He’d been saying for years that she’d go too far one day; push someone over the edge. The detective and longtime family friend might be a pain in the neck, but he was the only cop willing to give her the time of day when it came to her theories. She knew what it was like to live without answers, without justice. She was not giving up. Not when she still had to have answers herself.

Her arms strained as she tried to pull on the chains and haul herself up. No go. The air was thinning. Breathing actually hurt.

In hindsight, perhaps she shouldn’t have spouted off about the Iceman. On her blog, she’d called him every name she could think of. Her boss at the paper had accused her of becoming a liability and a danger to both herself and the reputation of the publication. Clearly, he’d been onto something. Karma may be paying her back—given the name of her blog, Eden on Ice, was currently more than just a play on words.

“Maybe it can be my epitaph.” Eden shivered so hard she thought her bones might snap. She was so weak, and yet the monster that dwelled within Eden—the monster that had been birthed twenty years ago when her friend had been murdered—stirred to life. She would not surrender.

Not to one of them.

A searing pain soared between her shoulder blades as she hoisted herself up a mere inch. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. The movement sent blood rushing to her starved muscles. The strain on her wrists was unbearable, but she welcomed the sensation. If she hurt, she was alive.

Terror washed afresh. Wait. Why was she alive?

She turned her head to one side and then the other, as if her kidnapper was about to come through the metal door.

She had to get down. Now.

An image of Detective Cole Delaney exploded in her mind and she laughed. How would Cole handle this situation? What would he do?

“Cole wouldn’t be in this situation,” Eden chattered. “Cole would have taken out the Iceman the second he realized he was being followed.” Oh, how she really, really wanted to live long enough to see if her instincts were right.

Eden might be able to shoot any gun, use any knife, topple any attacker—at least one she saw coming—but a fat lot of good those skills were to her now. All she had to work with was her body. And hanging in the middle of a subzero freezer wasn’t exactly like a visit to her local gym.

Step one, get down. Eden shut her eyes and tried not to think about the red stains on the metal hook. She couldn’t scoot off. The bend in the hook was too deep. She needed to find another way. But how...

Eden grimaced as the idea took hold. Not pretty, but if it worked...

Grunting, panting, inhaling as much air as she dared, she stretched out one leg, testing how far it was to the nearest corpse. She pointed her toe and missed making contact, but thankfully, she’d chosen to wear her pointy-toed ankle boots for the rainy spring day.

This would happen. It had to.

Eden looked down at the floor. It would hurt. A lot. The drop wasn’t long, but the fact that she couldn’t feel, let alone control most of her body, meant hitting the deck could do more damage than the meat hook.

The vow to dump every last pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream in the garbage if she succeeded was on the tip of her tongue, but the thought only stoked her anger. “No way I’m letting this creep put me off ice cream.”

Never mind the pain; she’d take the risk. Suddenly, she was grateful she hadn’t given up the Pilates classes, even though they were costing her a fortune.

Eden locked her legs together and swung them back. Then forward. Back. Forward. Until she got a good momentum going. With one final push, she tightened her stomach muscles and threw her legs up and over the shoulders of the closest body, then clamped her feet one over the other. She heard a sickening noise.

Bile rose in her throat. The chains dug deeper, rubbing away her skin. Blood beaded beneath the metal as she stretched and arched her back, dragging the links up toward the point of the hook. Two inches up, one back. Metal ground against metal.

With less than an inch to go, poised to yank the chain free and uncross her feet, Eden braced herself for the fall.

Click.

Eden twisted her head and stared wide-eyed at the door. She gritted her teeth, gave one last push and released herself.

The door slid open.

Eden dropped to the ground and rotated at the last second. She landed hard on her side, her shoulder taking the brunt of the impact.

She slammed her eyes shut, not just from the pain but the onslaught of light blazing into the freezer. The world blurred; darkness closed in.

“Eden!”

She heard voices...lots of voices, and for a split second she thought St. Peter himself was hosting her welcome-to-the-afterlife party.

Eden frowned. St. Peter sounded like Cole. She tried to breathe, but the fall had stolen the last of her air. She tried again, managing to inhale a shallow breath. It was enough to clear her mind as a warm, strong arm slid under her shoulders and hauled her into a sitting position.

Firm hands grasped the chain around her wrists and pulled her forward.

Eden screamed.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, Eden. I’ve got you.”

Cole.

She tried to say his name, but the shivering prevented her from speaking. Next, he’d scooped her up, leaving the chains in place. He carried her from the freezer through a maze of hallways and out into the fresh Central Valley air.

Her eyes watered at the change in light. She turned her face into the soft leather of his jacket, forcing herself to inhale his spicy masculine scent as it seeped into her. Warmed her. Surrounded her.

She couldn’t stop shaking. She could barely get her thoughts straight as Cole tightened his arms around her and bent his head to tuck her face deeper into the thawing effects of his jacket. His breath was reassuring against her cheek.

He was talking to her, his voice fading in and out, so she caught only a few phrases. “Scared the life out of... Don’t ever... Kill you myself. First thing... GPS tracker around your neck.”

Eden smiled. He was angry with her. Again.

It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested the tracker, but it was the first time she didn’t feel like clocking him in response.

She knew his concern was out of an obligation he felt he had to her brother, to the promise he’d made years ago to keep an eye on her. Still, it was nice to know Cole cared, and she decided to enjoy the moment. She’d avoided death, unlike her silent companions. Soon enough he’d change tactics, read her the riot act for being so careless, for putting her life at risk. Again. For not following the rules. Again.

And she, in return, would remind him, again, that the rules didn’t apply when it came to stopping killers like the Iceman.

Her stomach fluttered as Cole pressed his lips against her forehead and lingered for a minute.

Odd. No part of Eden St. Claire ever fluttered. Besides, Cole Delaney wasn’t her type. He was a friend. Maybe her best friend. And if there was one thing she’d learned the last ten years, it was that cops and reporters did not mix. Especially not her—a journalist who was so not by the book—and him—a detective so by the book he recited regulations as if they were his nightly prayers.

That warm and fuzzy sensation she was feeling toward him was gratitude. Nothing more.

She felt Cole sit down, keeping her on his lap as he stretched his jacket around her still-shivering body.

“S-s-sorry,” Eden finally managed.

“Shut up,” Cole ordered and then shouted over her head. “Medic! She needs medical attention!”

“D-do n-n-not n-nee—” She smiled a little when she felt his body tense.

“I said shut up. Medic!” His bellow only made her headache worse. Eden heard racing footsteps and her memory flashed back to Monroe’s parking lot. She shuddered and swallowed the fear.

“G-get th-th-these off me.” Eden lifted her wrists and found the chains incredibly heavy. Where was that adrenaline now that she knew she wasn’t going to die? She was so sleepy, and Cole was so safe, so comforting. If she could close her eyes for a few minutes—maybe her mind would slow down.

“Hey!” Cole’s fingers gripped her chin to jostle her. “Stay with me, Eden.”

“Huh?” Eden blinked. She truly hated him telling her what to do.

An older female EMT appeared. Eden anticipated the freedom, reveled in it as the paramedic examined the chains twisted around Eden’s wrists. Smiling, Eden lifted her chin and looked at Cole.

“Hi there, handsome.”

Eden enjoyed the surprise in his dark green eyes. She’d always thought him good-looking, although not in the fairy-tale-prince sense. His angular features, slightly pointed nose, his wide-set eyes and the faded scar that ran from his right ear to his temple evoked images of his Celtic warrior ancestry. The idea was only enhanced by his perfectly honed body—one that had allowed him to lift her off the freezer floor as if she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes.

A sack of potatoes. Eden giggled. She was a bag of veggies.

“Get this around her.” A voice she didn’t recognize came from above her. She focused on a second EMT holding out a thermal blanket.

“Haven’t seen you before,” Eden murmured to the young male EMT. “You new?”

“She’s probably got hypothermia,” the first EMT told Cole.

“You think?” Eden said and then gritted her teeth as the chains were pried off her raw, bloodied skin. “Son of a—”

“Ah. There you are.” Cole’s chuckle sounded strained, and, sure enough, when Eden met his gaze, she loathed the concern she saw reflected in his eyes. “We’ve got to take you to the hospital, Eden. Get you checked out.”

Eden set her jaw. “I’ll be fine. Please take me home.” A long hot shower, a gallon of coffee, and she’d be on the other side of frozen in no time.

“These wounds need treating.”

Eden concentrated on the female EMT and tried her best to appear steady. “I don’t like hospitals.”

“I bet you’d like dying less. Hypothermia can mess with your heart. You’re going to be checked out and probably kept for observation.” The woman gave Cole a stern look. “I can bring a gurney over.”

New panic overtook the fear she’d experienced in the freezer. “No, Cole. Please.” She knew she had no right to ask him to help her again, but she didn’t have to explain—not to him. He’d understand she wasn’t up to facing another of her demons tonight.

Loyalty to her and obligation to his job battled behind the tension reflected in his gaze. “Compromise. No ambulance, but you let me take you to the hospital.”

Eden parted her lips, planning to negotiate, but his eyes narrowed.

“Take it or leave it,” he said.

Heart pounding, she realized she was too tired to fight him. Eden nodded.

“As long as you accept responsibility for her,” the EMT told him.

“I did that a long time ago.”

Eden hid her smirk, but kept her mouth shut.

Once the EMTs were gone, Cole fixed the blanket around her. “Fair warning, Eden. As of right now, things have changed. And believe me, you’re not going to like it.” He lifted her in his arms and strode over to his car. “Not one little bit.”

“Hey, Delaney!”

Cole turned, but continued walking backward as a patrolman called out.

“This is your case! You’re primary!”

“Secure the scene,” Cole hollered over to him. “McTavish is in charge until I get back here.” Cole stumbled. Eden locked her hands around his neck as he righted himself. He might be mad as all get-out at her, but he wouldn’t let her fall. He never had. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” The shivering had subsided, and while there wasn’t a part of her that didn’t ache or burn, she welcomed every pinprick of pain. “I’ll be fine.”

Cole nodded to the patrol officer who yanked open the door to Cole’s SUV. It was only after Cole secured her seat belt and closed the passenger door that Eden realized she’d forgotten to ask him one very important question.

How had he ever found her?

Chapter 2

Big-city emergency rooms in the early morning hours on a Saturday were chaos personified. Add in a three-car pileup on the I-5, a collapsed back porch thanks to an overabundance of drunk partygoers, and the mass-testosterone-induced excitement of a road-trip bachelor party gone wrong, and Cole was looking at chaos in the rearview mirror.

“Detective Delaney, it would be better if you waited outside, please,” the duty nurse said as she switched on monitors and ordered her staff about.

“I’m staying out of the way.” Wedged in the corner by the door, he couldn’t be more out of the way if he was in the next room. Cole kept his gaze pinned to Eden’s. She was holding it together, but only barely. He was well acquainted with her aversion to hospitals and the medical profession in general. She’d be shaky under normal circumstances.

These circumstances were anything but normal. “I’m right here, Eden, okay?”

She nodded, once, sharp, and flinched as the nurse inserted an IV into her arm. That Eden pressed her lips into a tight white line told him she was either repressing a scream or debating verbally abusing her caregivers. He was tempted to advise the nurse to tie Eden’s hands down, but he didn’t want to borrow trouble. As long as he stayed in sight, as long as she knew someone who cared about her was here, she’d be okay.

His entire body itched to answer his cell. It had been buzzing on and off since he’d left the scene, but one glare from the nurse had him pocketing the device and riding out the endless minutes it took for them to evaluate and stabilize Eden’s core temperature.

As much as he wanted to be at the crime scene, his place was here, with Eden. He’d vowed to her older brother, Cole’s best friend, that he’d protect her. It had been eight years ago that Logan had left for—and never returned from—Afghanistan. Little did Cole know that oath would morph into a second job.

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.

Agent Simmons’s nod of sympathetic understanding only proved he hadn’t done his homework when it came to the Iceman’s most recent target, and the woman who’d spent the last year and a half tracking him.

“I’ll officially request to be notified when she’s conscious,” Agent Simmons said.

“You do that.” Cole smirked. Why did they always have to be so adversarial? “Sir, with your permission, I’d like to get back to Mona and see if she has any new information.”

“Certainly,” Santos said. “But first, a moment if you don’t mind, Agent?” Santos grabbed Cole’s arm and moved him out of Simmons’s earshot. “I don’t know what’s going on with this guy, but there’s something we aren’t being told. I’ll stall Simmons as long as I can, but he’s up to something.”

“The Iceman made a mistake taking Eden,” Cole said, not caring about anything else right now, including police politics.

“You mean because he’s angered her even more?” Santos’s thick eyebrow went up a good inch. “If he meant to deter her—”

“By taking Eden he confirmed what she’d been saying. Leaving her alive is probably his way of telling us he can get to her—to anyone—whenever he wants, which means her years of working on her own are over.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. Watch out. The both of you,” Santos told him and gestured to Jack. “At some point we’ll have to update the press, but the chief will take care of any official statements. I’d prefer to keep all of us, Eden included, away from the cameras. Do me a favor?” Santos’s mouth quirked into an amused smile. “Let me know when Agent Simmons plans to question Eden. That’s a conversation I do not want to miss.”

Chapter 4

Had Eden’s body not been throbbing, she might have woken with a smile on her face. The drug-induced haze that welcomed her to the conscious world was almost intoxicating. Any other time, she might have actually enjoyed the ride.

The second she moved her head, however, her entire body screamed and she realized where she was. Monitors beeped, cords and tubes were attached to her, and the bars on either side of her bed may as well have been made of barbed wire for all the peace they brought her. That the dull, beige-colored walls, the scribbled-on whiteboard and the dingy sea-foam-green curtain gave her none of the privacy promised bothered her enough to shove herself into a sitting position.

Out. Out. Out. She dug at the IV in her arm. Not in the hospital. Never in the hospital. The walls seemed to close in and the weight of the past descended on her...

“Eden?” Cole’s voice drifted to her from across the room. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he leaned forward in his chair, and the mere touch of his fingers against her arm stilled the terror inside her. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just like I promised. Lie back. Be calm.”

He squeezed his hand around her arm, didn’t push, didn’t press, but shifted closer so she could see he was there and that he understood.

“I didn’t see you,” she managed and did as he’d said, collapsing against the flimsy pillows as the squeaky mattress eased under her. Her right shoulder both ached and burned. “Thought I was alone.”

“I told you I’d be here when you woke up,” Cole said. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Since when don’t you believe me?”

“It’s been a rough night.” She searched for the humor even as she stared at her bandaged wrists. “A few things might have shifted in here.” She poked a finger against her temple. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

“On Saturday?” Her brain and mouth felt fuzzy. The drugs.

Cole nodded. “Doctor Collins should be by in a little while with your test results. You hungry?”

“What?” He sounded weird, as if he were speaking under water. Her brain was not cooperating. She sighed and dropped heavy arms onto the mattress. “Yeah, actually.” The stent patch in her arm pinched and her stomach turned. Then again...

“They were warm when I bought them.” Cole pulled a paper bag from the counter beside her and handed her a cinnamon raisin bagel from Schofield’s Bakery.

She smiled, forgetting for a moment what had put her in the hospital in the first place. “My favorite.”

“I wanted to make sure you’d eat.” He gestured to the three containers of lime gelatin on her table. “I didn’t think those would do much for you.”

“Is that color even found in nature?” She broke off part of the bagel and popped it in her mouth, the spicy flavor exploding against her tongue as her stomach growled in eager response. “I owe you,” she mumbled behind her hand. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Cole pulled his chair closer. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Not here.” She could barely swallow at the thought of being surrounded by medical personnel and machinery. “Later.”

“Not much later.” Cole didn’t look surprised. “Fair warning. I called Simone and Allie.”

Eden choked, sputtering bagel onto her chin. She wiped the crumbs away and Cole passed her a cup of water.

“Why?” she squeaked. Her eyes teared, and she drank. “Why would you call them?”

“Because they’re your best friends and I didn’t want them reading about this on the front page over their morning coffee.”

“What front page?” Surely her own paper wouldn’t have featured— Who was she kidding? Of course they would. “How bad is it?”

“For you?” Cole shrugged, but Eden could see he was keeping his temper at bay. He was angry, frustrated definitely, and she must be in pretty bad shape if he was willing to hold things in check until a later time. “You’re breathing, so I’d say you’re in better shape than the other eight people they found in that locker.”

“Eight.” Eight lives. Eight souls. Turn eight on its side and it became infinity. Infinity... A killer like the Iceman would keep going unless he was stopped. Unless she stopped him. “Who were they?” She’d made them a promise. One she intended to keep.

“We should know in the next day or so. In the meantime—”

She shoved another bite into her mouth and jostled the railing. “In the meantime, I need to get out of here before—”

“Too late. I’m here.” The sharp feminine voice shot through the doorway and preceded Simone Armstrong’s pristine white form into the room. The woman wore white as effortlessly as a bride and more elegantly than a queen.

The bride she’d been for all of three months a few years back. A queen? It was probably on her list of things to do. Eden once considered submitting Simone’s photo to Merriam-Webster’s dictionary so they’d have a visual display of professional perfection.

“You didn’t have to come down,” Eden mumbled as she picked at a loose thread on the blanket. They might be the same age, but at twenty-nine, Simone was most certainly the eldest. “Aren’t you getting ready for the Denton trial in a few weeks?”

“Denton’s not going anywhere. He’s on ice.”

Cole snickered. Eden glared at him and he shrugged. “Tell me that wasn’t a little funny.”

Simone flicked a latch under Eden’s bed and lowered the bar before sitting beside her. Eden caught the familiar, comforting scent of Simone’s perfume. Some kind of flower. Eden didn’t do flowers.

“Thank you for calling me, Cole.” Simone took hold of Eden’s hand and squeezed, and only then did Eden feel the fear trembling through her friend. Eden had scared her. Again. Not that Simone would ever admit to such a thing in public.

“I wasn’t going to deal with her all on my own.” Cole’s grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know the way she gets.”

“She is getting that way right now.” Eden felt a puff of relief as Allie Hollister flitted into the room like the dark-haired pixie she was. “Finally. Someone reasonable. Allie, please tell them— What. Is. That?” Eden angled her eyes to the sad-looking one-eyed panda bear tucked under Allie’s arm.

“Pathetic, isn’t he?” Allie walked over and plopped the bear on Eden’s lap. “Looks like he’s been kicked around a bit. Found him on the top shelf of the gift shop. Discounted by about a million percent and it still cost me ten bucks. He reminds me of someone I know. Can’t imagine who. I also stopped by your place and got you some clothes.” She dropped a plastic bag on the bedside table. “Ooooh, bagels. May I?” She snatched the sack and snagged the second one. “I missed breakfast. So, how was your night?” She fluttered her lashes innocently at Eden—as if she didn’t know.

“Okay, okay. I get it. I was stupid. I even told myself that when I was hanging in that meat locker.”

“Gah.” Allie’s mouth twisted as she dropped the bag. “Thanks so much for that image. At some point we’re going to have to discuss this annihilation wish you seem to have.”

“Stop analyzing me, shrink.”

“Criminal psychologist, please.” Allie held up her hand much like their fifth-grade teacher had when correcting a spelling error. “I worked hard for those degrees.”

“Excuse me.” An unfamiliar voice accompanied the knock on the door frame. Eden lifted weary eyes to the cautious-looking blond man wearing dark green scrubs. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I need to draw some more blood before they remove your stent, Ms. St. Claire.” He held up a plastic-handled container one might carry cleaning supplies in. “It won’t take but a minute.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Eden squinted to read his badge as he drew closer. “Glen.”

“Careful—she bites.” Allie grinned.

“Shut up.” Eden shifted and focused on Cole. The expression on his face seemed odd, caught between concern and confusion. But the smile he gave her was pure Cole and took her breath away. Where would she be without him?

“All done.” Glen gathered up his supplies.

“That’s some touch you’ve got, Glen.” Simone patted Eden’s knee in comfort. “She barely flinched.”

“Have a good day.” He gave them a quick wave on his way out.

“So which one of you is going to fill us in on what happened?” Simone asked as she looked between Cole and Eden.

“Didn’t you read the paper?” Cole asked.

“I only read the paper if I’m featured,” Simone said with a sly smile. A lie. Simone never read the paper, not even Eden’s articles. “You finally did it, then, Eden. You’re solidly in some maniac’s crosshairs just like you’ve always wanted.”

“No fair picking on the sick girl,” Eden said.

“She must be desperate if she’s playing that card.” The other railing went down as Allie perched at the end of the bed and rested her hands on Eden’s feet.

The monster inside Eden settled, curling up and falling into hibernation once more. She had her friends—her family—around her. She was safe. Even in a hospital, she was home when she was with them.

“Do you remember anything?” Allie asked.

“Creep got me in the parking lot at Monroe’s,” Eden explained and tried to clear the last of the cobwebs. “Thought I had time to get my Taser, but...”

“Wait. You were at Monroe’s last night?” Cole’s entire body tensed, and he came toward her.

“Of course. We had a meeting, remember?”

“I thought you’d ditched me. Because of our fight.”

“If I ditched you every time we fought we’d never see each other,” Eden teased him. “I got there right after seven. I was late, sure, but—”

“Hang on.” Simone squeezed Eden’s hand and addressed Cole. “What aren’t you telling us, Detective?”

Cole’s expression turned cold. “We found your car at your town house, Eden. Your purse and phone were inside. Your house keys were under the gargoyle.”

Whatever fear she’d managed to push aside roared back. “But I live more than a half hour from Monroe’s.”

“If you two didn’t meet up,” Allie said, and Eden saw the logic gears begin to turn, “how did you know she was missing, Cole? How did you know where to find her?”

“I meant to ask you that last night,” Eden said, and for the first time she could remember, she dreaded Cole’s answer. The silent seconds that ticked by only increased her apprehension.

“He contacted me. The Iceman,” Cole said, proving to Eden that no matter how bad things got, he would never lie to her. “He told me where to find you.”

“The Iceman has your phone number?” Simone frowned for a flash only, as if remembering they caused wrinkles.

“I thought it was Eden calling.” Cole locked his gaze on Eden’s. “He used your phone.”

Only a fraction of a second passed before she made the next connection. “He knows where I live, then.” Not to mention what else he’d have gleaned from her phone. Served her right for not using a passcode.

“So it would seem,” Cole said. “Which brings me back to that discussion we’re going to have. Now seems the right time. You’re going into protective custody, Eden. No arguments.”

“No arguments needed because it isn’t going to happen.” Whatever fear she should have felt didn’t materialize. Not under the anger, not under the triumph circling inside her like an eagle finally diving for its prey. “Don’t you see? It’s personal now.”

“Doesn’t get more personal than a serial killer having your address,” Allie said.

“No, I mean he’s messing up. I’m getting to him.” The adrenaline inside her surged. “I’m not about to run and hide when he’s afraid. We’ve got him cornered.”

“We do not have him cornered,” Cole said in too calm a voice. “We don’t have the first clue who he is. We don’t even know why he’s doing what he’s doing. And trust me, Eden, you’re either doing this my way or you’ll find yourself in the hands of the FBI under witness protection.”

Eden balked. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me. Special Agent Anthony Simmons, our new FBI liaison, is more than anxious to help with the case. And talking to you is definitely on the top of his list of things to do. Give me a reason, Eden. One excuse, and I won’t hesitate to turn you over.”

“You do that, Cole, I’ll never forgive you.” He knew how important her work was, how she lived and breathed finding every last killer she could in order to bring them to justice.

“You’d be alive, though,” Cole said and pushed to his feet. “Guess which means more to me?” He kissed the top of her head. “I made a promise, Eden, to keep you safe. No matter what it takes.”

“Hold on. No, Cole, please—” She grabbed for him as he moved away. “We can talk about this. What about—”

“Eden, I’m wiped. I need a couple more hours’ sleep before I can even think about going to the station. I’ll be back later.”

“To take me home, right?” Eden asked.

“You can’t be serious,” Simone demanded before Cole could. “Eden, for heaven’s sake, a serial killer knows where you live. Cole? Tell her she can’t go back there.”

“I’m not putting anyone else in his sights,” Eden mumbled around gnawing on her thumbnail. That she barely flinched probably told Cole he had his work cut out for him with her. Independence was one thing. Reckless disregard for her own life, she guessed, was another. Which meant she needed to find a compromise. “I’ll get the locks changed,” she offered. “I’ll look into an alarm system. Maybe I’ll get a dog.”

As if she had time for a dog.

“Don’t worry, Eden, I’ll take care of it.” Cole squeezed Simone’s shoulder, brushed his fingers over Allie’s and gave them a silent smile goodbye.

“Take care of what?” Eden called after him. “What did he mean by that?” she asked.

“If I had to bet?” Simone said with a hint of frustration in her voice. “It’s that somebody’s getting a bodyguard. Oh, snap out of it, Eden. There are worse things than being put under house arrest by Cole Delaney.” Her attempt to placate Eden didn’t work. If anything, the idea of spending extended time in close quarters with Cole only made Eden’s stomach do giant Olympic pool–sized belly flops.

“He’s worried about you.” Allie reclaimed her bagel. “He has reason to be. I read your test results. Sedative aside, another few hours in that freezer, you’d be dead. As it was, you went in there with only two-thirds your normal blood supply. Not sure if that might help with the investigation or not.” She arched a brow.

Eden rubbed her arms and shivered. “The Iceman took my blood? Why would he do that?”

“The only person who can help you answer that just walked out the door.” Simone got to her feet and took Cole’s chair, crossed her legs and waggled her fingers at Allie. “Gimme. I’m hungry.”

“That’s what happens when you live on pea shoots and sesame seeds.” Allie handed over the last half of her bagel as Eden stared ahead.

“Uh-oh.” Simone nibbled on a raisin. “I know that look. Eden? What are you thinking? Do we need to buy Cole a flak jacket?”

“He already has one. And I’m not thinking anything. Yet.” But she was starting to. Something between her and Cole had changed. They weren’t wholly off-kilter exactly, but she could sense a difference in their relationship, as if something had become lodged between them. Or maybe dislodged. One thing was for certain.

It was time for her and Cole to come to an understanding.

About a lot of things.

Chapter 5

“I don’t suppose you’re going to listen to what the doctor said and take it easy.” Later that afternoon, Cole shut the door to Eden’s town house off La Riviera Drive, but not before casting an accusatory glare at the silent gargoyle. The ugly thing was partially hidden by overflowing camellias and should have been protecting Eden’s home.

“I don’t take it easy, Cole, remember?” She pulled off the sling her doctor had given her and tossed it onto one of the chairs.

“Some things I don’t need reminding of.” He’d taken her at her word and had her locks replaced. A security system would take longer, but motion sensor lights would do in the meantime, which Jack had installed this afternoon. None of that meant Cole would be leaving her alone, but, for now, he knew how to pick—and plan—his battles. She wanted to stay in her house and play more games with this maniac? She’d be staying on Cole’s terms. And under his watch.

Eden paused long enough to settle the sad stuffed panda from Allie behind the framed photos and keepsakes she had lined up on the narrow china cabinet. It was one of few pieces of furniture he recognized as having belonged to Eden’s parents. She brushed a reverent finger over the edge of the simple black frame depicting her mom and dad, another over the butterfly trinket box Simone had given to her on her sixteenth birthday. College graduation day for her, Simone and Allie. She hesitated a second longer over the photo of her brother.

Cole looked away. That familiar moment of grief struck whenever he saw Logan St. Claire grinning at him. Even with the filthy face and too-long hair, surrounded by his comrades, eyes slightly tarnished by the reality of their time in Afghanistan, Cole could almost hear Logan’s laughter. Except Logan’s laughter—along with his friends’—had been silenced forever by a mortar attack.

Cole missed his best friend; the boy he’d learned to ride a bike with, the teen he’d competed with for dates. The young man who had devoted his life to Eden after their parents’ deaths in the car crash that had nearly killed Eden, as well. Cole had found his own way to grieve, to get through, to move on. But Eden?

Cole’s fists clenched as if he could fight her ghosts and his own. He knew Eden considered death her personal nemesis.

The sound of a drawer being yanked open in the kitchen drew him through the living room that housed a meager DIY couch, a small flat-screen TV and an antique Tiffany-style lamp that looked oddly out of place. Half a dozen cardboard boxes sat wedged against walls, some opened, most with a thin layer of dust on top. Boxes that he knew for a fact hadn’t shifted an inch since she’d moved in.

When he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he found Eden with her head in the freezer. “What are you doing?” He stepped forward and grabbed her arm to yank her back. “If this is some half-baked plan to try to remember what happened to you...” He trailed off, suitably silenced by the sight of the spoon in her mouth and the pint of ice cream in her hand. “Really?”

She popped the spoon free, the irritation and defiance in her eyes an oddly attractive combination. “He almost made me hate ice cream.” Eden took another huge bite before she sucked in a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Nobody makes me hate ice cream. Ah! Ice-cream headache!” She bounced on her toes and replaced the lid. Aiming her spoon at him like a gun, she then quickly dropped it into the dishwasher.

Cole tossed his keys onto the counter and pushed her aside to open the fridge. “You need to eat.”

“What I need is to get back to work.” Her gaze skittered toward the padlocked door in the small alcove. “Besides, you brought me a bagel at the hospital, remember?”

“You ate half a bagel, and you need protein, preferably with some iron for all that blood you lost.” He bit his tongue and put his frustration into something productive. He dug around until he found eggs, spinach and a good-sized chunk of cheese. At least she hadn’t forgotten to shop for groceries. “You’re not working until tomorrow. Now sit.”

“I’m not entirely sure I like you right now, Cole.” She surprised him by doing as he ordered and hopped onto one of the two stools on the other side of the breakfast bar. “I’m supposed to be the bossy one, remember?”

The fact she was still as pale as a hundred-year-old ghost no doubt meant she had the energy of a flea, but Cole wasn’t about to challenge her on that. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her fighting spirit back, if for no other reason than to convince him she’d be ready for anything.

Having a serial killer on her trail would be enough to keep him awake for the near future. He’d already spent most of the morning distracted by worrying about her. The fact that Simone had texted him almost as soon as he’d left the hospital to let him know she’d stay until he returned had eased his mind temporarily. Hip-hip hooray.

“You’d best get used to it.” Cole shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over one of the kitchen chairs piled high with files and photos. “You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”

“Won’t that cut into your personal time?” Eden surprised him yet again by reaching for one of the bananas in the bowl, then snapped it open. “What’s the latest one’s name again? Tiffany? No, Tawny. Thelma?”

“Thandie.” Cole cringed as he rolled up his sleeves. “And there hasn’t been any personal time for a few months.”

“Huh.” Eden broke off a chunk of banana and swallowed it. “Maybe it would help if you didn’t live somewhere that required a life vest.”

Cole cracked eggs into a bowl and heated up the only pan she owned. “Don’t go dissing my boat.” Refurbishing the 1960s gentleman’s river cruiser had kept him sane the last few years. “And that’s big talk from a woman who hasn’t unpacked in, what?” He stepped back from the counter and gestured at the boxes in the living room. “Just how long has it been since you moved in?”

“Three years.” Eden shrugged. “I’ve had other things on my mind. Besides, I unpacked the essentials.”

“So if I were to head upstairs to your bedroom, I wouldn’t find your clothes tossed over unopened boxes or piled up in the corner?”

Another shrug, but this time her gaze skittered from his. “Don’t criticize my organizational style, Cole. It works for me.”

He dumped the eggs and spinach in the pan and went to work on the cheese. “Home should be a respite, Eden. A place to escape.”

“Given my front door may as well have a giant bull’s-eye painted on it, I think we can agree that’s no longer an option.” She got up and opened the hand-carved bread box on the counter—a Christmas gift from him years before—and pulled out a loaf of sliced sourdough. She dropped a couple of pieces into the toaster. “So what’s the plan? You moving in?” She leaned her arms on the counter and watched him stir the eggs. “If so, my guest room will need some, um, fixing up.”

When he glanced at her she grinned and batted her lashes at him.

“Don’t do that, Eden.” Cole shook his head and switched off the stove to let the residual heat finish the eggs.

“Don’t do what?”

“Pretend as if what happened last night didn’t scare you.” It sure had scared him, and Cole didn’t scare easily. “It’s me, remember? I can read you like a book. You’re spooked, which means you’re doing what you always do when you get scared. You deflect with humor and sarcasm, and when that doesn’t work, you’ll start insulting me and anyone else who tries to help you just to drive us away.”

She inclined her head, her thick sandy-blond hair falling around her shoulders in a way that shouldn’t tempt him as much as it did. Intense blue eyes sparked like the center of pure fire, where the oxygen barely kissed the air. “What kind of book am I?”

The kind he couldn’t put down. The kind that kept him up nights. The kind he shouldn’t be reading. He pulled the pan off the heat and faced her, moving in so she was forced to straighten and step back. For an instant, he found himself at the warehouse again, looking down at her on that frozen floor. It had been the longest moment of his life, waiting for her chest to rise, and when it did, he’d almost wept.

Now here she was, standing in front of him, defiance personified, licking her full lips and forcing herself to meet his gaze as he took one more step closer.

“Cole.” She pressed a hand against his chest, the warmth of her touch seeping through his shirt and reminding him that she, that he, was still very much alive. “What’re you doing?”

“Not sure I know.” But he wanted to find out. He’d almost lost her, almost lost this chance with her he’d been thinking about for so long... He skimmed his fingers over the bandage on her wrists, unable to erase the image of the chains that had been there.

Cole lifted his hand, cupped her chin in his palm and leaned down, his eyes scanning her face as she searched his, confusion marring her brow as he dipped his head, and after he heard a soft sigh escape her mouth, he kissed her.

Fire and spice. The heat of her, the feel of her mouth touching his was everything he’d have thought it would be, if he’d let himself dwell on it long enough. She didn’t shrink from him, didn’t withdraw. Instead she ran her hand up his arm until her fingers gripped his shoulder, kneading as he deepened the kiss and tasted her.

The sound that erupted from her throat reminded him of a cat on the prowl, hunting, claiming, and as his lips teased hers, for that moment, everything he had to worry about faded.

“Cole,” she murmured against his mouth when he raised his head.

“Hmm?” He pressed his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and held on to the feeling for as long as he could.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“Yeah.” And there it was. Gratitude. The conciliatory acceptance and silent confirmation that their kiss had been nothing more than the aftereffect of a potentially life-changing event. “Well...” He cleared his throat and stepped away. Well, hadn’t that just been a mistake of epic proportions. “You did your part. You stayed alive.”

“It’s what I do.” The smile she gave him seemed strained. “Which is why you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I will always worry about you,” Cole said as he pulled two plates out of the cabinet and dished out the eggs. “I made a—”

“I know. You made a promise to Logan to always look after me.” Was it his imagination or was there a trace of bitterness in her voice? Hard to tell since she’d turned to retrieve the butter from the fridge. “After last night I’d say you’ve more than lived up to your end of the bargain. Whatever your plan is for protecting me, if it includes moving in here—”

“I didn’t say I’m moving in.” The idea of sleeping on that backbreaker of a couch of hers was enough to have him reevaluating his career choice.

“Oh.” Her shoulders straightened and her grin returned as if they’d done nothing more than talk these last few minutes. “That’s a relief. You and I both know I can take care of myself.”

“Open your freezer and say that again,” Cole snapped. “I meant what I said. After you finish eating, you’re going to go upstairs to pack and then you’re coming home with me.”

“To the boat?” Eden squeaked. “I hate the water. You know that. And that...boat of yours is a death trap. Besides, I bet you don’t even have internet access out there.”

“As if that’s what you should be worried about right now.” If it wasn’t for that stupid blog of hers she wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. All the more reason to lock her away...

“Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. I totally need to post an update to let everyone know I’m okay.”

“Eden—”

“He’s not driving me out of my home.” She actually sounded...hurt. “I realize it’s not much to look at,” she continued. “That to you it’s a jumble of boxes and junk, but this is my space. Mine. Leaving would be admitting he’s won, and neither you nor I would ever do that.”

“This isn’t about winning or losing, Eden. And it’s not about forcing you out of your home. This is about your life.” His phone rang and it instantly drove the rest of his lecture from his mind. She smirked as if she’d been saved by the bell. “We’re not done, Eden. Hey, Jack. What’s up?”

“Agent Simmons is here.” Jack’s voice had lowered to the point that Cole had to strain to hear. “Something about you absconding from the hospital with the witness in an ongoing investigation.”

“My investigation,” Cole muttered. Unless something had changed. “My witness.” He glanced at Eden, who made no pretense about eavesdropping as she sat at the counter and propped her chin in her hand. “She needs food and a good night’s sleep.”

“Says you,” she grumbled and returned to the toaster.

“Yeah, well,” Jack said. “That sounds fine, except our friendly FBI interloper is about ten seconds from demanding Eden’s address. So if perchance you’re inclined to bring her in, and she can give her official statement—”

“Tell him we’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

Eden glanced over her shoulder, her grin fading as her eyes narrowed. “Bring me where first thing in the morning?” she asked after he had hung up.

“The station. To make an official statement. Don’t let me forget to stop for doughnuts on the way. Half the department is covering for us right now by playing up the damsel-in-distress story. Not so much butter, please.” He plucked the knife out of her hand and snagged his toast.

“What damsel-in-distress story?” She shot to her full height and pinned him with that testosterone-draining stare he’d become immune to years ago.

“The one that kept the FBI from questioning you in the hospital.”

“You mean the FBI really is involved?” She blinked. “That wasn’t a bluff?”

“Some things I don’t bluff about.” Suddenly, putting her in a room with Simmons didn’t seem like such a bad idea to Cole. If he couldn’t get through to her about the danger she was in, maybe the FBI agent could. “I don’t get it, Eden. It’s like you want this maniac to come after you.”

“Maybe I do.” She stuck a butter-covered thumb in her mouth. “Maybe that’s the method to catch him. I hit a nerve, Cole. Pushing him like I did got a reaction and now we have new evidence to work with.”

“Is that your way of saying last night was worth it? Or is it a warning you’re about to let him know what your next step is? Allie’s right. You do have an annihilation fantasy.”

“Allie’s biased.”

“Allie’s a smart woman,” Cole countered. “And she’s not wrong. But I was.”

“About what?” Was that excitement in her eyes?

“It’s not the Iceman I have to worry about.” He dumped the dirty pan in the sink, his resignation matching decades of pent-up frustration and concern. “The only person I have to protect you from is yourself.”

And that would be the far more difficult task.

Chapter 6

“Your talents do not extend to sarcasm.” Eden took a small bite of toast to ease her queasy stomach as she carried her plate to the breakfast bar and claimed a stool. Diving into the ice cream face-first hadn’t been her best idea, but she’d made a promise to herself. “This is my job, Cole. It’s what I do.”

“Taunting serial killers isn’t exactly on the Fortune 500 list. Any normal person, even a reporter, would take being abducted as a sign to back off or at the very least ask for assistance. If for no other reason than to do what you have to in order to stay alive.”

“I haven’t been normal since I was nine years old.” No matter how much time passed, the pain never diminished. She hated the familiar silence that followed as Cole no doubt tried to find the words that would make things right. But those words didn’t exist.

“Not everything in your life has to circle around to Chloe, Eden. Nothing you or Simone or Allie do will ever bring her back.”

From anyone else she’d loathe the sympathy, even challenge it. No one, save the people left behind, could ever understand or contemplate the emotions the murder of a nine-year-old conjured. Those left behind included Chloe’s parents, her siblings and the three friends who had to go on without her. But this was Cole; the same Cole who had tugged on Chloe’s pigtails to pry a gap-toothed smile out of her when the classroom bully taunted her on the playground. After he’d given the bully a taste of his own medicine. He’d also witnessed the aftermath of Chloe’s murder, stood silently behind Eden along with Logan, Simone and Allie when they’d been told their friend was no more. Even still, he’d never truly gotten what that night—and ensuing days—had done to them. Done to her.

How could he when Eden hadn’t been honest with anyone, not even Simone or Allie, when it came to that night. Eden’s shame, the guilt, the insurmountable grief had become a part of her, settling inside her as her constant companion.

Instead of admitting the truth, of accepting responsibility for her part in the tragedy, Eden had refused to spend her life being afraid of whatever—and whoever—lurked in the shadows.

Whoever she was supposed to be before Chloe’s death would forever remain a mystery. She didn’t possess Simone’s patience or logic to venture into law. Eden lacked the compassion and curiosity Allie exemplified to spend her life exploring behavior and treating the aftereffects.

Instead Eden had found solace in true-crime books, in crime journals and newspapers, in blogs with a leaning toward justice for victims. Words became her weapon of choice. Pushing for answers, speaking for those who had lost their voice, demanding justice through whatever media she had available to her had become as essential to her life as the oxygen she breathed. If Cole didn’t understand that...

“I’m well aware Chloe’s gone, Cole.” She chose her words with care. “I see them lowering her casket into the ground every night before I go to sleep.” When she did sleep. She flipped chunks of spinach free from the cooling eggs, clenching her fist around the fork when her hand shook. “The fact her killer is still out there drives me every moment of every day. Cases like hers shouldn’t be cold. They shouldn’t be forgotten. As far as your precious law enforcement is concerned, her case and dozens of others are as dead as the victims. And yes, it’s a gamble whether I learn anything new, but sometimes, like last night, sometimes I hit the jackpot.”

“You winning the jackpot shouldn’t include me having to identify your body in the morgue.”

“Wow.” She swallowed hard and dipped her chin to hide her cringe. “Melodramatic much?”

“Only when it comes to you. Now eat.” He tapped his fork against her plate.

“It’s cold.”

“Then you should have stopped running your mouth. These people, these killers, they aren’t worth your life, Eden.”

“Maybe not.” Or maybe they were. “But it’s not your decision, is it?” She forced herself to stare into the handsome face that had been a presence in her life for longer than she could remember. “It’s my choice. This is my life, and as far as I’m concerned, catching this guy is worth any price I have to pay. The sooner you accept that, the better. I’m going to take this upstairs with me. I need a shower.” And about ten hours of sleep to kick the sluggish feeling still swamping her head. “And then tomorrow I’m getting back to work.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond. Anything he said would only continue the circular argument they’d been having for the better part of a decade. The one that had started when she’d announced her plans to double major in journalism and criminal psychology months before she’d even graduated from high school. About the time Cole had entered the police academy. How long ago that all seemed now.

Eden headed upstairs to her bedroom, dashing the final steps into the bathroom before she slammed and locked the door. She rested her forehead against the wood, reaching to set the plate on the sink, but she missed. As she turned, she watched—as if in slow motion—the plate drop and shatter, splattering eggs and bits of spinach on the black-and-white-checkered tile.

She clenched her fists and pounded them against her thighs, the little she’d eaten swirling in her stomach like a sickening cyclone.

She stumbled to the shower and wrenched open the faucet, setting the water to hot as the first sob erupted from her lips.

She ripped the clothes from her body and shoved them into the trash, boots, underwear and all, before she stood underneath the water. Eden slid down the wall to the tiled floor as her body revolted, endless hours of pent-up fear and rage bubbling to the surface. The harder she fought, the more painfully her muscles contracted. Curling her knees into her chest, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sound and heat of the water coursing over her. Instead all she felt was that jab of the needle followed by the darkness.

Even in the steam of the shower, she could feel the dry, icy air of the meat locker coating her skin, the stinging pain rocketing through her extremities. The image of dead eyes staring at her, lifeless gazes, parchment-thin discolored faces and mouths contorted in a silent shriek only she could hear.

She jumped at the sharp knock on the door.

“Eden?” Cole called. “Are you all right? I heard a crash.”

Eden squeezed her eyes shut as tears leaked from the corners. She cleared her throat and swallowed. “I’m fine.” The two words scratched her throat raw. “Just dropped the plate. I’ll be out in a bit.” Her body drained with the effort it took to call to him.

“Okay.” A moment of silence. “I’ll be downstairs.”

Doubt clung to his voice. He didn’t believe her. She didn’t believe herself. Cole was right. Simone and Allie were right. She’d been reckless, stupid even, drawing attention to herself by taunting a killer. She’d been pushing boundaries for months—years. With one killer after another. How could she be surprised she’d eventually have to answer for it?

Reality had shifted in the last twenty-four hours. This killer was different. The Iceman wasn’t someone who had murdered out of passion or revenge or even for money or power. He didn’t have any motive except whatever cause sat in his psyche. This one was...smart. He knew where she lived, knew her routine, one she’d become lazy in varying. He’d been to her house. Her stomach dropped. He’d touched her things, her purse, her phone, her car...stood in her yard.

She scooted forward on the shower floor, placed her head under the steaming spray and forced herself to keep calm. “Control,” she repeated. Control was all that mattered; it was what kept her sane. She’d had it, she’d maintained it, hanging in the locker, trapped in that hospital bed and even for those terrifying few seconds it had taken to make herself walk through her front door less than an hour ago.

She’d done it all until...

Eden shoved her fingers into her wet hair. Until Cole had kissed her. No. She couldn’t deal with this now. Didn’t need to or want to and yet...

“Stop it! Just stop it!” She struggled to her feet, turned down the hot water and braced her hands on the wall of the shower. She’d deal with this—the consequences of her actions—as well as she could. If that meant checking every lock in the house a hundred times, if it meant installing a security system or even digging her brother Logan’s old service pistol out of its lockbox from the guest room closet, so be it.

Serial killers, criminals, the darkness of the human mind? Those she could deal with.

But Cole Delaney kissing her?

That was something else entirely.

* * *

“I’ll be done in a minute.” Eden’s fingers had gone numb from clutching the pen so hard.

When whoever opened the door to the interview room at the police station didn’t respond, Eden glanced up and found a tall, older, distinguished man watching her.

She caught a slight hint of irritation on the man’s face. His solid jaw was clenched, his posture forcibly relaxed as he leaned against the door frame and slipped a hand into the pocket of his well-tailored navy suit pants. “Let me guess.” She ducked her chin, noting the power-red tie. “Agent Simmons? I’m just finishing my statement now. Would have taken me half the time if they’d let me type it.” Cole and his addiction to procedure. One day if he didn’t bend, he’d snap. “Not to mention it would have saved me from carpal tunnel. Cole said you wanted to question me?”

“Feeling better, Ms. St. Claire?”

Ah, passive-aggressive. Check. “As well as one can after having her blood drained before waking up hanging in a meat locker.” She scribbled her signature, dated the bottom of the yellow lined paper and clicked the pen shut. “Cole said the FBI was taking an interest in the case. Now.” She pushed to her feet. As much as she appreciated Cole’s desire to give her some privacy as she relived her ordeal, being on this side of the two-way mirror didn’t exactly calm her nerves. “Coffee?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before she walked out of the interview room. “Here you go, Bowie.” Eden handed over the yellow tablet to the uniformed officer at the desk next to Cole’s. The young man had been assigned to the major case division a few months back. He still had that whiff of youth and eagerness, his nickname a tribute to the British rock star his father idolized. But even with that blue-eyed baby face of his, she picked up on his determination to make a difference. Much like most of the officers Cole worked with. She’d never admit it out loud, but she felt at home here, in the bustle of law enforcement. It reminded her of the hours she spent working at the Tribune, where the energetic buzz of discovery and revelation was contagious. “Is Cole around?”

“Said he had an errand to run.” Bowie eyed Agent Simmons over her shoulder. “He asked that you wait for him.”

“As I’m stuck without my car for the time being, that’s a given. Thanks.” She jerked her chin toward the pink bakery box she’d deposited on Jack’s desk on her way in, making the other cops in the division swarm like bees to honey. “Better get your maple bar before it’s gone.”

“It’ll wait. I’m the only one who likes them,” Bowie said with a wistful look on his face. The transplant from Vermont may as well have had a bottle of syrup branded on his arm.

“Sure about that?” Eden arched a brow.

“You like maple?”

“I like doughnuts. Save me from myself, will you?” She glanced at Agent Simmons, who was watching the exchange with more interest than she thought necessary. “I’ll be in the break room.” Being interrogated by a federal agent. This day was shaping up to be great.

As she and Simmons sauntered inside, the few detectives and officers parted like the Red Sea, giving Simmons a wide berth while murmuring words of welcome and relief to her as they passed. Somehow the break room had been neglected in the recent remodel of the station. With its mismatched chairs, chipped tabletops and crooked blinds covering the windows, the space reminded Eden of an out-of-date coffee shop. The air was saturated with the smell of overpopped popcorn and continuously brewing coffee. Funny how the familiarity relaxed her.

“Odd,” Agent Simmons said as she handed him a chipped mug. He motioned to the officers who had just left. “They like you.”

“Odd because I’m a reporter?” She added a good dash of cinnamon to her cup before taking a seat by the window. “Or because I’m me?”

“In my experience reporters and cops don’t tend to get along.”

“It’s my charm.” Her friendship with Cole went a long way to bridging those professional gaps. “They know I want the same things they do. Doesn’t mean I’m their favorite person.” She’d spent plenty of time being frozen out of investigations. Eden cringed and added more sugar to her coffee. Great choice of words. Personally, she accepted their trepidation as a badge of honor.

“They circled the wagons for you.” Agent Simmons took a seat across from her, cupping his hands around the mug. “That tells me a lot about them. And you. It’s funny. I was led to believe Detective Delaney was keeping me away from you because you were...”

Eden sipped, looked at him over the rim of her cup and silently dared him to finish his thought.

The strained smile that stretched his lips caught her by surprise. “Not important.”

“Cole can be a bit—”

“Overprotective?”

“Determined.” And yes, overprotective, thanks to that oath he’d sworn to her brother. An oath she felt certain hadn’t included kissing. She shifted on her chair and veered off that track with a ferocity that could leave skid marks. “Cole’s radar goes up if he thinks I’m in trouble, which I often am, according to him. He also gets testy when he thinks someone’s trying to home in on his case.”

“I’m here to advise, that’s all.”

“Why? I didn’t think the Iceman case was even on the Feds’ radar.”

“On the contrary, it’s a case we’ve been following for some time.” He drew his gaze around the room. “As I told the lieutenant and Detective Delaney, I’m here to lend any assistance you might need.”

“So that wasn’t you raising a ruckus when you thought he’d— What was the phrase he used?” Eden kept her eyes on his face. She found Agent Simmons difficult to read. He didn’t give much away, barely a twitch or a flicker of his dark eyes. This was a man who was used to being in control. And getting what he wanted. If what he wanted was to steal this case from Cole—from her—she certainly wasn’t going to help him do it.

“I don’t like being lied to. And I don’t like the idea that this case might have stalled thanks to your—” he paused and inclined his head “—excessive interest.”

“This department’s had its fair share of disappointing interactions with your agency,” Eden felt compelled to explain, or maybe defend. “And the last thing a case does with me is stall.”

“I’m not the agency,” Simmons said. “But I took the lieutenant’s advice and did a little research while I was waiting. On Detective Delaney’s record with this case. And on you.”

Here we go. “Find anything interesting?”

“Aside from a couple of misdemeanor arrests—”

“A girl has to have a hobby.” She’d learned the most important lesson when it came to breaking and entering a good decade ago: don’t get caught.

“You’ve done good work, Ms. St. Claire. You’ve helped reopen at least three cold cases both here and in Oregon, all murders, in the last few years. Cases law enforcement had given up on.” His temper didn’t catch, not even with her baiting him. Interesting. “Worthy of a badge, some might say.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“Not a fan?”

“Of them?” She glanced through the blinds and chose her words carefully. “Absolutely. I admire them. I just prefer not having the...restrictions they do.” Cole needed those boundaries to stay sane. Eden fought them for the exact same reason.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need some. Calling out a killer the way you did has consequences. Which brings us to last night. Did you see him? The Iceman?”

Ah. There it was. Put the witness at ease with small talk before you hit her with what you really want to know. “I did not.” Anger bubbled in her blood, not at Agent Simmons’s curiosity but at her own carelessness. Not checking her surroundings, not parking under a light. “One second I was getting out of my car and the next...” She rubbed a hand over her bandaged wrist where the pain had subsided to a dull ache as ghostly footsteps echoed in her memory. “I woke up in an air-conditioned igloo with a third of my blood missing.” Her ears buzzed as the fear crawled back into her throat.

“So there’s no hope of a description.”

Fragmented images flashed through her mind. Like jagged puzzle pieces with no way to fit together. “Not from me.” And didn’t that just burn. “Maybe the lab will have some luck with my phone.”

“Strange, don’t you think? That he broke pattern like that? Potentially exposed himself by calling a police detective and telling him where to find you. You’ve been on his trail long enough. Why do you think he did that?”

Strange? Strange was the tip of the iceberg, wasn’t it? “Killers like this aren’t exactly known for their grasp on reality.” Personally, she didn’t appreciate the increased level of anxiety she had to adjust to thanks to his changeup, but she didn’t have anybody but herself to blame after that last blog post she’d run. “The Iceman has spent three years being invisible. No one’s come forward with any information of having seen him, let alone a description. There’s been no indication as to how he targets his victims, how he transports them—only that he seems to have an unhealthy fascination with vivisection and deep freezers. Now we can add blood to that list.” Her palms itched to get to her files and notes. “Aside from the missing persons’ reports, there’s been nothing to track. His abduction pattern has always been erratic and meticulous, and we’ve never found a common thread among the victims. At least not the first three victims.”

“More victims give us more data to work with.”

“But that’s the sad thing. Like Cole’s superiors, I wanted to believe he’d stopped, but that’s not the norm with these types of killers, is it? The Iceman is confident. Smart. Organized. Until...” She cleared her throat and drank her coffee, the warm spice of the cinnamon bathing her tongue. “We still don’t understand how he’s choosing his victims, and if he isn’t, if they’re completely random, we might never catch him.” That was what she needed to figure out: the connection between the victims. “Somehow he was aware enough to know their routines.”

“And yours. The coffee shop where you were abducted. Is it your habit to meet with Detective Delaney at that particular time and place?”

“Yes.” Eden frowned, realizing Agent Simmons had turned her questioning into a conversation. “And don’t think that hasn’t been bothering me.” It was one thing to be predictable; it was another to fall into a careless routine that had nearly gotten her killed.

“And yet he went out of his way to make sure you survived. Seems...inconsistent to me.”

“Makes me an outlier,” she mused, agreeing with him. “Something he can’t quite figure out or control.” Except what he’d done had been an attempt to regain that control. She would have noticed if someone had been following her. Or had she gotten lazy earlier than she realized and stopped paying attention? She took a deep breath, sat back in her chair and looked at the FBI agent, grudgingly appreciative for making her look at the case in a different way. “He knew his victims’ routines going back to the first three killings. Pam Norris disappeared on her way home from school before a three-day weekend. Her parents were away and didn’t report her missing until they got home on Monday. Elliot Scarbrough, single, junior partner in a local law firm who had started working from home. Last place he was seen was leaving the gym four days before anyone realized he was gone. Denise Pageant—her husband was on a business trip that got extended. Her car was found abandoned in her neighborhood grocery store almost a week later. He knew when to grab them. He knew they wouldn’t be missed for a while. That puts him somewhere in their lives.”

Agent Simmons twisted the wedding band on his finger and dropped his chin. “You know their names.”

“Of course I know their names.” She didn’t even try to hide her offense.

“Why?” He looked honestly perplexed. “Why do you do this? And please don’t disillusion me by telling me this is about fortune and fame.”

Eden crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you wanted to question me, not analyze me.”

Again, he didn’t rise to the bait. “Why risk your life to go after him? To go after others like him?”

Eden couldn’t remember the last time she’d been asked such a simple yet complex question. Her answer shouldn’t matter. Not to the FBI. Not even to Cole or Simone or Allie. The only person who deserved an answer to that question was herself. And for her, the answer was simple. “Because their victims mattered.”

“That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?” She didn’t want to talk about herself; she didn’t matter. Stopping the Iceman before he hanged anyone else in a deep freeze had to be her focus. And then she’d move on to the next one. Because there would always be a next one. “Here’s what’s really odd about what happened last night. Not that he targeted me. Yeah, that’s creepy and all—” and would give her nightmares for the rest of her life “—but why would he want me found?”

“He can’t take credit for something no one knows about.” Cole strolled into the break room with that cop look in his eyes that revealed confidence, obligation and a touch of annoyance as he bit into an apple fritter. Just seeing him eased some of the tension that had settled around her.

He was Cole. Her friend. Her best friend, and yet every time she laid eyes on him it was as if she was seeing him in a different light. A light she shouldn’t want turned on.

“Bowie is typing up your report now,” Cole said and poured a cup of coffee. “Sticky maple fingers and all. Should be ready for you to sign in a bit. Agent Simmons, I thought we agreed you’d wait until I was present before you spoke with Eden.”

“It’s fine.” Eden sighed. “I don’t need you hovering, Cole. We’ll only kill each other that much sooner.”

Agent Simmons’s sad smile knocked against an unfamiliar soft spot on her heart. “You two sound like me and my ex-wife.” Eden glanced down at his wedding band. He shook his head. “Long story. Suffice it to say obsessing over a case you can’t crack destroys more than the victims’ lives. Did Forensics give you anything?” he asked Cole.

“Only confirmed what we already knew.” Cole sat on the edge of the counter and crossed his ankles as he polished off his doughnut. “No prints other than yours and people you know, Eden, and no prints on your phone. Dr. Collins sent over the final lab results from your blood work. We might be able to trace the sedative he used—”

“That’s good news,” Eden interrupted.

“Remains to be seen. Propofol is popular on the black market, but we’ll run it to be safe. Other than that, we’re coming up blank. Again. He must have been hermetically sealed given the lack of forensic evidence. He drove your car, Eden. That should have given us something.”

“All you have to do is watch TV crime shows to know how to evade forensics,” Eden muttered. Nothing like television to turn those with twisted behavioral tendencies into master criminals. “How am I supposed to drive my Bug again?” She loved her neon green VW, the first new car she’d ever bought. “Not to mention use my phone.” She shuddered.

“I’m afraid a new car is out of my budget, but the phone I can fix.” Cole reached into his jacket pocket and held out a shiny smartphone. “It’s the same make and model as your old one. I had Tammy transfer everything over.”

“So that was your mystery errand. My hero.” Eden smiled and accepted the phone with reverent hands. “Thank you.” She tapped open her text app and noted the number of messages from her boss at the paper. “I’m going to have to make another stop on the way home.”

“If you’re done with your questioning?” Cole said as if dismissing Agent Simmons. “We can send you copies of all the reports. Keep you in the loop.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Agent Simmons replied in what sounded like a rehearsed tone. He’d surprised her, as congenial and curious as he’d been, but not around Cole. Clearly the mistrust between the agencies went both ways. “If you do happen to remember anything else about your abduction, I’d like you to let me know. In the meantime, I’ll let you know if anything pops on our end with those reports. Thanks for your cooperation.”

“Considering what you told me about Simmons,” Eden said as the FBI agent left and she finished her coffee, “that didn’t go at all as I expected.”

“Maybe not for you.” Cole walked to the door and watched as Agent Simmons stopped to talk to Lieutenant Santos. “I bet if you were to ask Simmons, it went exactly as expected.”

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