Profiled

by Renee Andrews

  “Mrs. Schuler’s water just broke in the waiting room.”

  Doctor Weatherly smiled. “Never a dull moment. I should’ve expected it, though. It’s a full moon.”

  “Full moon?”

  “More babies are born on full moons.” The nurse grinned. “No idea why, but it’s been proven.”

  “That so?”

  “That’s so,” Dr. Weatherly agreed.

  They followed the nurse to the front, where all the women who’d been waiting were gathered around the lady who’d brought her husband along for the ride.

  “Okay, Mrs. Schuler, I need you to go on down the street to the hospital and get checked in. The staff there will set you up in a birthing room and get everything ready for us. I’ll be there shortly.” She smiled at the women surrounding the “lucky” lady. “I’m going to let each of you see Nurse Langston today, but we’ll reschedule all of your appointments with me for later this week, if that’s okay. If not, just let my receptionist know what works best for you.”

  They all nodded, their eyes as excited as the nurse’s had been. John didn’t blame them. Excitement pulsed through him as well, and he’d never seen Mrs. Schuler before today.

  “Can you drive her down there?” The doctor looked to the husband, who’d turned a bizarre shade of pale green.

  “I—don’t know.”

  John stepped toward the shaken man. “I’ll take you.”

  “This is Detective Tucker from the Macon Police Department.” Dr. Weatherly had a small smile in place as she spoke. “I’m sure he can drive you to the hospital, and then you can return later to get your car. I’ll be there momentarily.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Mrs. Schuler seemed much more at ease than her husband, who nodded.

  “Come on, let’s get her to the car.” John snapped his fingers in front of the man’s blank face. “I think we should hurry.”

  “Right.” The guy surged to life, then grinned. “This is it, Anna, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, honey, this is it.” She took his hand and led him along with Tucker.

  “I’m going to mess up your seat.” She indicated her wet pants.

  “Doesn’t matter.” This was the most exciting, most thrilling thing that’d happened to John in a long time. And that included catching killers.

  Within three minutes, and with his lights flashing, he’d herded Mrs. Schuler and her dumbfounded hubby into the Family Ties Birthing Center at Coliseum Medical Center. After giving the nurses his card and asking them to call with information regarding the birth, he left her in the capable care of the hospital and the semi-capable care of her husband.

  John pulled out of the emergency parking area. He wanted to stay, to see what had started at that doctor’s office come to fruition and to witness the miracle of a child’s entrance to the world. But that was something meant for the doctor, the expectant mother and the eager father.

  The brutality of Abby’s murder, of losing his wife and the child she carried, sucker punched him once more. He had never experienced what took place in that hospital now. Then again, he wouldn’t have experienced it with Abby anyway, since the baby she carried in all probability belonged to Ed Brooks.

  He pulled into the parking area at the police department, parked the car and thought of Lexie. With all the pent up anger from what happened fourteen years ago beckoning for release, he focused his attention on the one good thing in his life right now. The inquisitive news reporter with big green eyes, soft blonde hair and a smile that had the power to melt his hardened heart.

  The task force wasn’t scheduled to meet today, so she’d be at the TV station preparing for the evening broadcasts. She’d need a break for lunch. Or dinner. She might even need someone to guard her tonight while she slept. He withdrew his cell phone and dialed WGXA. The newspaper’s switchboard operator answered.

  “Lexie McCain,” he requested.

  Three rings, then it went straight to her voice mail. He hung up without leaving a message and dialed Paul.

  “Kingsley.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Fine. Any news on the case? You checked things out at the doctor’s office yet?”

  “Struck out. There aren’t any men who work at her clinic, and she hasn’t noticed anyone fitting the profile loitering.”

  “Well, you tried. Something else will come up, though.”

  “It better. Listen, I’m trying to reach Lexie. She off on a story?”

  “Nope. I kind of figured she was with you, helping to find answers.”

  “She’s not with me.” An uneasy feeling slammed John’s senses. “She didn’t come in?”

  “Called and left a message that she was taking a personal day. Like I said, I figured she was trying to find answers for the Sunrise Killer story so she could prepare for the next segment.”

  “Not unless she’s working on it on her own.” John tightened his grip on his cell. “You don’t think she’d do that, do you? Chase a lead by herself?”

  “She’s been known to before. That’s the best way to one-up the other guys for the lead story, and Lexie likes getting the lead, but she’s not stupid. She wouldn’t go chasing this guy.”

  “No, she isn’t stupid, but she might think she can handle him, that she’s smarter than him.” John tried to remember if she’d said anything last night, hinted to anything that would give him a clue what path she’d taken this morning. If anything happened to her...

  “I’ve got her cell number.”

  “Give it to me.”

  Paul recited the number, then added, “But it won’t do you any good.”

  “Why’s that?” John saved the number to his contacts.

  “I’ve been trying to call her all morning. No answer. She must be in a dead zone.”

  John winced.

  “Bad word choice.”

  “I’ll say.” John stared at the number. “You know of any areas where a signal won’t pick up in the city limits?”

  “No.”

  “Why were you calling her all morning?”

  “I have a lead on another story and I wanted to see if she was interested.”

  John knew better. “How about the truth?”

  Paul groaned. “All right. I’m afraid she might be doing something stupid. She tends to be a little too brave and determined for her own good.”

  “I’m thinking the same thing.” John straightened to relieve the tension causing the muscles in his neck to bunch. What had she done? Where had she gone?

  “So what’re you gonna do?”

  “I’m a detective, right?”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.”

  “Then I suppose I should be able to detect where she headed.”

  “Any idea how you’re gonna do that, if she doesn’t want to be found?”

  “I’ll find her.”

  “Good. And John?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Call me when you do. I want to know she’s okay.”

  “Will do.” He disconnected, climbed out of his truck and stormed into the police station. If he did his job right, he’d soon know where Lexie McCain had gone.

  He prayed he found her before she did something she’d regret.

  It should’ve taken Lexie two and a half hours to make the trip from Macon to Valdosta. She made it in two.

  After parking beneath an aged magnolia, she climbed out of her car, retrieved her overnight bag from the trunk, then headed up the familiar rock pathway leading to Murrell’s Assisted Living. She had visited the large pink Victorian house for the past twenty-eight years, but her stomach still twitched each time she stepped on the wooden slats of the front porch. Not nervous from fear. Nervous from hope. Hoping for something that never seemed to occur, something that never would occur, according to the doctors. Nevertheless, as she entered the foyer, she felt it stronger than ever before. Hope. And, although she hated to admit it, this time she also felt an ounce of fear.

  “Oh, Lexie dear, I’m so glad y
ou came.”

  Lexie turned toward the silver-haired woman sitting in the small office to her right. The lady, Jacqueline Murrell, had a gentle face and an even kinder heart. She’d been like a grandmother to Lexie, ever since Lexie first met her so many years ago. “Jackie. How is he?”

  “Here, child, let me get Donovan to take your things.”

  Lexie knew better than to argue.

  “Honey, Lexie’s here. Can you give her a hand?” Jackie moved to the open doorway at the back of her office, looked in and smiled. “Were you napping?

  Donovan Murrell, his stark white hair disheveled and his glasses lopsided, emerged from the room. He kissed his wife on the cheek as he passed. “Just resting my eyes, Jacqueline.”

  Jackie chuckled and followed him out.

  He had extra wrinkles on one side of his face from sheet marks, and his eyes blinked behind his brown-rimmed glasses to focus. “Hello, Miss Lexie.” He reached for her bag.

  “Hello, Donovan, how are you?”

  “Haven’t heard any complaints.” He winked at his wife.

  Jackie shook her head, but grinned. “Well at least now I know you’re awake.”

  He winked again, this time at Lexie. “You’re planning to stay next door, I assume?”

  “Yes. I’ll have to leave early in the morning, but I thought it’d be nice to stay overnight and see him again tomorrow.”

  “He’ll like that.” Jackie’s rosy cheeks plumped with her smile.

  “Sure he will.” Donovan started toward the exit with Lexie’s bag slung over one arm.

  “Come on, dear.” Jackie hugged her as they crossed the foyer. “I’m sure you’re anxious to see him. He’s doing fine now. I just thought I should tell you and Angel about him leaving again. She called you, I guess?”

  “Yes, she did. Do you have any idea where he went?”

  “No.” Jackie turned down a long hallway, where four rooms branched off each side. Most of the doors were open, and the elderly residents, all familiar with Lexie’s visits, smiled, waved and spoke as she passed.

  She greeted each of them by name, wanting them to know someone cared, even if they might not remember her visit tomorrow.

  Murrell’s Assisted Living was divided between those older individuals who were still sharp-minded but needed a place to stay and those who were lost inside themselves while their outer bodies continued to thrive. Most of the latter group were diagnosed with early Alzheimer’s. However, the one Lexie came to see had stopped wanting to remember twenty-eight years ago and even though he probably couldn’t tell whether she came or not, even though he may not remember her visits after she left the confines of his room, she would continue to come, continue to visit and continue to hope.

  “You know, this isn’t the type of place where I can keep my residents from going outdoors.” Jackie’s tone indicated her guilt that he’d wandered off again. “And he isn’t getting hurt or anything when he leaves. But I still feel responsible.”

  Lexie stopped walking just shy of his door, the only one in the hallway that remained closed. “It isn’t your fault. He loves it here. On the few times he’s said anything to us, that’s been the one thing that he made clear. And I don’t want to move him, nor do I think he needs to be in a lockdown facility. He must’ve wanted some fresh air, which a lot of your residents want, right?” Lexie didn’t believe her own words, but she didn’t want Donovan and Jackie Murrell blaming themselves. They hadn’t caused the mental shutdown.

  Jackie nodded, but her eyes glistened. “Yeah, but most of our guests go out to the gardens for a while, or sit by the pond. I don’t know where he went, Lexie. He had dinner with everyone Saturday night, but at breakfast Sunday morning, he didn’t come out of his room.” She shrugged. “He does that sometimes, you know, when he wants to sleep in, so we didn’t disturb him. Then, right before lunchtime, he came walking in the front door. He looked tired, and he’d been crying.” She clasped her hands together at her chest. “I was worried, but since he’s done it before, and since I have no authority to stop him from going where he wants to go...”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jackie. I have no idea where he went either, but you said he’s doing okay now, right?”

  Jackie blinked her tears away and nodded. “And he does seem better today. Whatever he does when he’s away, I think it helps. But I still get worried about him leaving, since I never can tell when it’s going to happen, or how long he’ll stay away. As far as I know, nothing upset him to make him leave. He was in the TV room with several of the other residents then everyone thought he went to his room. But the next morning, he wasn’t there.”

  “What were you watching on the television?” Lexie feared the answer.

  Jackie shrugged. “The news.”

  Lexie tamped back her anxiety. Even if he’d seen her on the TV and even if he knew the killer had returned, that didn’t mean he’d gone out looking for the guy, did it? But where had he gone? And had he seen Lexie on TV? Had her broadcast been picked up by Valdosta too? And if he had seen her, would he have even recognized her? Then again, last time she visited, he’d said her name.

  “You said he seemed better after he got back though, right?” Lexie needed reassurance before she entered his room.

  “Oh, yes, and he looks very good today. Hasn’t spoken yet, but he ate a big breakfast this morning and smiled at his little brother.”

  “Little brother?” He didn’t have a brother. As a matter of fact, he didn’t have anyone anymore, except Lexie and Angel.

  “One of the local churches started a program where teenagers come into the centers around town and visit with our guests. His little brother’s name is Jacob. I thought I told you about him, Jacob Zimmerman. Must’ve been Angel I told.”

  “Must’ve been. Is Jacob here now?”

  “Oh no, he came before school. He’ll come back on Thursday morning. Mondays and Thursdays are when he visits, always before school. Sometimes on Saturdays, if he doesn’t have anything else going on.”

  Lexie nodded, glad he had other people visiting when she and Angel couldn’t be here. But she wondered if this teen had anything to do with his disappearance. Had he gone out looking for Jacob? Had he found him? “The next time Jacob comes in, will you give him my number and ask him to call me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Anyway, he ate real good this morning while Jacob was here.”

  “I’m glad.” Maybe the teen reminded him of Phillip, Jr. It’d been a while since Phillip had made his way to Valdosta since he’d been so busy with school. Maybe this teenager filled that void. If so, she’d have to thank Jacob Zimmerman.

  “I’ll go make sure Donovan got your things over to the guesthouse.”

  Lexie smiled, then turned the knob and entered the room that, for the past twenty-eight years, had been her grandfather’s home.

  Nicholas Truman’s striking emerald eyes were fixed on the large screen television composing the majority of one wall in his room. With his hand on the remote, he nodded, agreeing with the anchorwoman, then flipped the channel and listened to another newscast. He stopped on CNN, then moved on through the local stations. When he hit Macon’s news, his trigger finger for the remote stayed at a standstill.

  She knew what he wanted to see. Or at least she thought she knew. Why hadn’t she or Angel thought about him seeing her broadcasts about the killer? Had he realized seven more years had passed and the monster who tore his life apart had returned?

  Lexie looked at the tray resting on the table beside his bed. “Granddaddy, you never ate your pudding after lunch.” She indicated the white ceramic bowl filled with his preferred dessert. “It’s chocolate, your favorite.” Jacqueline Murrell spoiled him, but she spoiled all of her guests. Murrell’s Assisted Living had been dubbed the best facility in the south, and for the mighty Trumans, only the best would do.

  The mighty Trumans. Lexie couldn’t bear to think of her heritage in that light anymore. True, the money still abounded, but
the strength of the family disintegrated on that day so long ago.

  Lexie swallowed hard and took a seat beside his bed. While her grandfather stared at the television and dozed throughout the afternoon, she sat, hoping against hope that he’d turn his head her way, that he might speak her name again, or that he’d do something indicating he remembered her for good.

  Nicholas cleared his throat, straightened in the bed, then pushed the sheet aside.

  “You need something?”

  He smiled at her, and Lexie’s heart squeezed within her chest. Then he stood from the bed and went to the bathroom. In a few minutes, he returned. He looked at her again, but didn’t smile. Then he grabbed the remote from atop the bedding and sat in the chair on the opposite side of the room.

  At 5:30, Jackie brought both of them dinner. “Thought you’d want to eat in private.” She placed the trays on a circular wooden table by the window. “You’ve got a great view of the magnolia grove. Might as well enjoy it while you eat.”

  “Thank you.” Lexie moved to one of the chairs.

  “Enjoy your meal, Nicholas.” Jackie gave Lexie a soft smile then left.

  When the door closed, he moved to the table and sat across from his granddaughter. They ate in silence, while the news chanted from the television screen.

  Then it happened. Nicholas Truman’s fork, filled with a healthy hunk of garlic mashed potatoes, dropped from his hand to the plate, and Lexie turned her attention from her grandfather to the television screen, where the pretty brunette news anchor, a woman who had worked with Lexie in Atlanta, updated Georgia on Macon’s Sunrise Killer.

  “Granddaddy?” Lexie jerked her head from the television back to her grandfather.

  Tears streamed down his slack cheeks.

  She moved from her chair to kneel in front of him. She knew better than to turn off the television. He’d waited for this all day.

  “Granddaddy.” She made certain her voice sounded strong and determined, in spite of the emotion making her insides churn. “We’re going to get him this time. Angel and I will get him this time. I promise you, we will.”