Profiled

by Renee Andrews

  “Oh. Well, she’s fine, I can assure you.”

  “No offense, Ms. Murrell, but I’d like to see that for myself.”

  “Yeah,” she didn’t hold back a knowing grin, “I kind of figured you did. Come on and follow me. I’ll have to ask her if she wants to see you, though. If she says no, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

  John fought the urge to laugh. The woman weighed all of a hundred and twenty pounds, yet she had no qualms with informing a two hundred pound homicide detective that she was the boss under this roof. He liked her spunk.

  “Hold on a minute.” She put her palm against his chest, then stepped in a side room. “Donovan, Agatha’s on the front porch and wanting company.”

  “On my way,” a male voice responded. “Who was at the door?”

  “A detective from Macon. He’s here to see Lexie. Says he’s helping her on a story.”

  Within two seconds, a tall elderly gentleman, his glasses pushed on top of his head to nestle within a sea of white waves, stood in front of John. “You’re here to see Lexie?”

  “I thought she might be chasing a lead on a story and was concerned for her safety.” John wondered if the half-truth sounded more believable to the older man than it did to John.

  Evidently not.

  “Could’ve called the police down here to check on her, if you thought she was in trouble,” Donovan pointed out. “I mean, it’d have saved you the trip, plus they could’ve gotten to her quicker, don’t you think? If she was in trouble and all.”

  Why did John feel like this couple had him in the crosshairs and were ready to fire? “Yeah, I could have.”

  “But he wanted to see her himself, to make sure she was okay. Isn’t that right?” Jackie fingered the silver bun on the back of her head, shot a knowing look to Donovan, and then turned her attention back to John.

  “That’s right.”

  Donovan’s weathered face cracked into a smile. “Well, it’s about time somebody watched out for that girl. She’s done put herself in danger one time too many, if you ask me, chasing all those stories. I’m guessing she’s after that killer they’ve been talking about in Macon, isn’t she? Trying to solve the crime herself again, huh?”

  “I’m hoping she’s not trying to solve it on her own. That’s why I’m here. But she is the lead news correspondent for the story.”

  “Don’t surprise me.” The old man pulled his glasses down and settled them on the bridge of his nose. “You gonna be able to keep her safe? She got too dang close to that killer in Atlanta. Ticked him off real good, if I remember right. He sure enough didn’t like her interviews with that poor lady he hurt.”

  “Lexie doesn’t realize we follow her stories.” Jackie lowered her voice to a whisper. “But we can’t help it. We care about her. She’s a dear soul.”

  “She’s not chasing any killer here, though,” Donovan added.

  “She’s not?” If she wasn’t working on the story, why had she come?

  “No,” Jackie shook her head, “But I’ll let her tell you. Come on.”

  Donovan turned toward the door. “I’ll head out to check on Agatha. Nice to meet you, Detective—”

  “Tucker, John Tucker.”

  Donovan nodded, extended his hand and shook John’s. “Nice to meet you, Detective Tucker, especially if you’re going to watch out for Lexie.” He turned and crossed the foyer then went outside to see Agatha.

  “This way.” Jackie started down the hall.

  They passed a large room with a rock fireplace in its center. Three women and one man sat around a big screen television watching Wheel of Fortune and guessing the current puzzle. Then they passed several additional rooms, larger than college dorms but smaller than apartments, branching off both sides of the hall.

  A few residents sat in their private domains reading newspapers, watching television or resting. Other rooms were vacant. He suspected those belonged to some of the Wheel of Fortune enthusiasts in the family room.

  The home smelled of spiced apples, furniture polish and vanilla. John had visited quite a few assisted living homes before his grandparents passed away, but none as elegant as Murrell’s.

  “Nice place.”

  “We like it. Our residents are happy here.” Jackie stopped by the only closed door in the hall. “Lexie’s inside. I’ll ask her if she’d like to see you.”

  “All right.” John knew this would be—interesting. It wasn’t as if he could say he’d been passing through. Two and a half hours from home wasn’t a passing visit. Even so, he’d made the trip to see Lexie, and he wouldn’t leave until he accomplished that goal.

  Lexie’s eyes burned, irritated and dry from lack of sleep. But she had slept last night. In fact, she’d achieved the most peaceful rest she’d had in a long time…with John Tucker outside her home.

  But one good night’s sleep wasn’t enough to make up for the three nights she’d barely closed her eyes. The three nights since Cami Talton’s body had been found, signaling the killer’s return.

  Her grandfather mumbled in his sleep, shifted in the covers and blew out a thick puff of air. She cringed. She hated that sound, those sudden exhalations of the elderly when they slept. The same sound she heard so many years ago, pronouncing death.

  Lexie shook the memory away. How would she calm down enough to rest tonight if she kept remembering the pain? And she needed to sleep in order to think, to help the task force find the killer before he murdered again.

  “No,” Granddaddy whispered, frowning in his sleep.

  Was he dreaming? Or remembering? As if she didn’t know. How she wished she could tell him that they’d put the monster away for good.

  But they hadn’t.

  He’d fallen asleep at 7:30 and would wake bright and early at 6:00 a.m. It’d been his schedule for as long as she could remember, early to bed, early to rise. Tonight the ritual would prove to her favor, because his pre-dawn awakening would allow her the chance to see him again in the morning before she drove back to Macon.

  She looked at the clock. 8:15. Soon she’d leave and attempt to sleep in the guesthouse, a side cottage with four small rooms for those staying overnight to be near their family members. Lexie stayed there often. The cozy guesthouse provided everything she needed for a good night’s rest. However, she knew it wouldn’t. Not tonight, and not until they caught the killer.

  But she had slept last night, which still baffled her. She’d gone so many years taking care of her fears on her own; she hadn’t needed a man, hadn’t needed anyone. But she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t felt safer with John Tucker standing guard.

  Had he felt the same? Had he experienced the connection that’d consumed her thoughts all day, making her wonder if perhaps she could feel safe enough to give her heart to a man again?

  She’d tried with Phillip and had succeeded for a while. But then the old fears returned, and she turned away from her husband, hadn’t been able to let him touch her because of the memories. The nightmares. The never-ending echoes of her screams.

  But she hadn’t thought of any of that last night with John.

  Why did that realization make her feel so scared?

  She decided to stop analyzing her response to the man until morning. Tonight she’d concentrate on learning how to sleep without him nearby.

  Standing, she moved to the bed, kissed her grandfather’s cheek, then turned to leave. She’d almost reached the door when she heard the faint tapping from the other side. Jackie’s familiar soft knock.

  Lexie opened the door and saw Jackie smiling. Then her gaze moved to the man who looked even bigger, even more invincible, when standing behind the petite older woman.

  “You have a visitor. The detective said he’s working with you on a story and wanted to make sure you were safe.”

  Lexie stepped into the hall and eased the door closed behind her, while her mind raced. How had he found her here? Angel wouldn’t have given him this address unless something had happened. Unless
something was very, very wrong. Plus, he didn’t even know about their connection. He didn’t know the man in the room behind her was her grandfather...and Angel’s.

  “John, what happened? Did they find him? Or did he find someone else? It isn’t time yet.” She rushed through the words in an effort to hear his response. “What happened?”

  “Everything’s fine. Ms. Murrell told the truth; I wanted to make sure you’re okay. You didn’t say anything about leaving today, and I knew how determined you were to get the story right, so I thought you might have followed a lead on your own.”

  Lexie blinked. “You followed me?”

  “More like I found you.”

  “Why?”

  “Like I said, I thought you were chasing this guy on your own and could be putting yourself in danger.” He seemed to choose his words in Jackie’s presence.

  Lexie processed what he didn’t say. “But why?”

  Jackie cleared her throat. “Well, I need to go clean up a bit in the kitchen.”

  Lexie nodded, but never took her eyes from John’s, not the usual brilliant blue tonight, but darker, more intense. “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  She should be mad at the very least, but the honesty of his words settled deep in her chest then spiraled outward to every limb, making her feel warm all over. “Come on, we’ll go outside where we can talk.”

  “You’re okay then?” He stared at the closed door.

  “Yes, this is my grandfather’s room. He needed me today.”

  “Oh.”

  “Not what you thought?”

  He smiled. “No, but I can’t deny I’m pleased you weren’t chasing the killer.”

  She returned the smile and chose not to tell him that visiting Nicholas Truman was close to the same thing; however, in this case, she wasn’t chasing the killer. She needed to chase the killer away, from her grandfather’s nightmares. And her own.

  They walked down the hallway and out the foyer, then exited to the front porch, where Agatha and Donovan were coming back in.

  “It’s a bright moon,” Agatha said. “Big and orange and round.”

  Lexie nodded at the lady. “Yes, it is.”

  “Donovan likes full moons too,” the older woman added.

  “That’s right.” Donovan opened the door for Agatha and waited for her to pass through. Then he turned to John. “We have two rooms open in the guest house. If you need a place to stay, you can have one of them. Lexie has a key to the building.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lexie waited until the door snapped closed, then turned to face him. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “How did you find me?” She knew Angel wouldn’t have told him, not now, not when they were so close to catching the killer, but Lexie couldn’t fathom how he found her here.

  “It wasn’t that difficult, once I convinced the good folks at Lexus that I was a homicide detective tracking down a woman who could be in danger.”

  “Lexus?” Her gaze moved to her car, parked in the magnolia shadows.

  “Yeah, thanks to your Lexus-Link, I connected to your personal advisor who, after I faxed a copy of my credentials, located your car and gave me this address.” His straight, white teeth glimmered in the moonlight with his smile. “Guess I should applaud you for purchasing a state-of-the-art vehicle.”

  “Glad I could help.” She smiled over her sarcasm. She couldn’t get mad at him for tracking her down. He’d been concerned about her safety, but the look in his eyes said more. He’d told the truth. He came because he wanted to come, and her heart warmed at the realization.

  “So, is your grandfather okay?”

  “He’s better now. He wandered off this weekend. We still don’t know where he went, but he seems to be feeling all right, so I guess no harm was done.”

  “Does he leave often?”

  “No, but every now and then he disappears for a while. Jackie told me he has a teenager visiting him now as part of a local church program. I’m thinking he may have gone looking for his new friend, or something like that. The boy may remind him of Phillip, Jr.”

  “Your son.”

  “Yeah. Phillip hasn’t had a lot of time to come visit Granddaddy since college started last fall. So this teen may fill that void.” She turned toward the porch railing, closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of magnolia blossoms on the evening breeze. “I’m just glad he’s doing okay.” She hoped it wasn’t too much of a lie. Was he doing okay? Or did he worry constantly over the killer’s return?

  “Lexie.” He moved beside her at the edge of the porch.

  “Yeah?”

  “I did come because I was worried about you, but that wasn’t all.”

  Lexie held her breath and waited for the rest.

  “I came because I want to be with you.”

  She took another deep breath, let it out. “Are you going to take Donovan up on his offer to stay in the guesthouse?”

  “I’m thinking I might.”

  Turning, she tilted her head to look up at the man touching her heart. “I slept last night, just knowing you were nearby.”

  “Maybe you can sleep again tonight, if I’m in the next room.” When he smiled, the crinkle lines framing those intense blue eyes made her throat go dry.

  It’d been so long since she’d felt true desire for a man, but she did now, with John. She moistened her lips, decided she needed to clarify last night’s statement. “When I told you I wouldn’t be with a man that way outside of marriage…” She hesitated.

  He brought his face closer, so that Lexie caught the crisp scent of his aftershave mixed with the masculine scent of John Tucker. “Yes, Lexie?”

  “I didn’t mean that I didn’t want any relationship. I just meant…” Her cheeks flamed, and she didn’t know how to continue.

  His eyes softened. Then he placed a finger beneath her chin and slowly, sweetly, lowered his mouth to hers.

  It’d been a long time since Lexie had experienced a man’s kiss, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like this, if ever. He caressed her mouth, setting all of her hidden emotions free with the tender gesture and making her forget everything but the two of them. She forgot the loss. Forgot the pain. Forgot the nightmares. And, for a beautiful moment, forgot her fears.

  Chapter Ten

  Two down, five to go, then this cycle would be complete. Anxious for it to be over, he realized that accomplishing his goal took time, and he wouldn’t venture from the plan. He had to stay true to the pattern, true to the design for maintaining control. Capturing the power.

  Monitoring the New Fellowship’s website today had been beyond frustrating. They discussed a charity drive, the inner-city homeless shelter and other do-good projects. All safe subjects in their opinion, he supposed. The chat link that had discussed the killings had been extinguished, and PROTECT&SRV hadn’t even logged on.

  They were doing the same thing they’d done before, hiding from the truth, refusing to acknowledge the one among them committed to carrying out Brother Moses’ plan. They were fools. Cowards. They didn’t want to discuss what he’d done because they were ashamed that none of them had lifted a finger toward controlling the power; therefore, they were weak and powerless. And they respected the most pathetic one, the man who had been taught the truth from his father and still turned away. John Tucker. Well, when PROTECT&SRV logged on again, he’d get a real treat. He’d learn a little more about TRUTHLUVR, the one who followed through with the plan…and the one who killed Tucker’s father.

  His hands gripped the steering wheel as he eased the car past Cami Talton’s tiny house. He took his time, slowing to a near standstill while he stared at the little home. When he’d located her house he’d known for sure that the Supreme One had selected her for his first kill. The white wooden siding, black shutters, even the swirling wrought iron railing on the porch made the house identical to Hannah’s home. A firm sign that he’d chosen well.

>   He continued past her house, then started slowly across town. It wasn’t a time for speeding. At 3:00 in the morning, no matter who you were, if you zipped through Macon, you drew attention. He didn’t want attention. Besides, if anyone saw him at either location, they’d just think he was doing his job.

  “The killer always returns to the scene of the crime.” Most killers weren’t able to do it under the guise that it was part of their job, but he could. And he had. In fact, this was his third trip to both sites.

  Both other times, he’d gone inside, looked around and remembered the surge of power he’d experienced when he’d taken complete control. And all the while, the very people trying their hardest to stop his plan surrounded him while he gloated. They could try. Many had, and they’d all failed. They would again.

  Unlike Cami’s residence, Vickie Jones’ duplex hadn’t depicted the accuracy of his choice. However, he hadn’t doubted his decision after his conversation with her on the park bench. Perfect, she had an angel’s face surrounded by a halo of golden hair, both qualities disguising the sinner within. But he’d seen through her disguise. He’d known she, like Hannah, attempted to claim power for her own when it wasn’t hers to claim. But he’d claimed it. He’d taken her life and conquered the child.

  Until the cycle completed, he didn’t experience the full impact of the power. He couldn’t. He had only accumulated one part of the whole. As a result, he felt empty, unfulfilled and lost, which enraged him.

  If it weren’t for Hannah, for what she’d done so long ago, he wouldn’t experience this void. He wouldn’t feel so incomplete. He would have her and have her child—their child. But no, she lied. She sinned, and she betrayed the one who loved her most.

  He pressed the accelerator to the floor and listened to the car peel out from the street. Forget creeping through town. He didn’t want to creep; he wanted to roar. And he would roar at Hannah.

  During the long drive to the outskirts of Macon, he didn’t meet a single car. No one saw him racing. No one saw the car swerve at every curve because he refused to slow down. No one saw...because the Supreme One protected him in his rite of passage. No one could stop him now.