Profiled

by Renee Andrews

  He pulled her close and held her as the mist turned to rain. “Do you remember anything else? About the killer?”

  She sobbed against his chest. “No. I can’t remember anything.”

  “It’s okay, Lexie. Come on, honey, let’s go home.” She nodded, then let him lead her away from the memories, away from the past and, although they didn’t realize it at the time, away from the killer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “The rumors are still going around. They’re not true?” Etta Green stood in the hallway outside the dispatch office and watched Angel progress toward the lobby.

  “Depends on the rumors, I suppose.” Angel brushed her hair from her face. She’d spent another day staring at victimology records, autopsy reports and anything else she could find trying to locate a detail they’d overlooked.

  She’d found nothing.

  “It’s hard to keep secrets around here, especially from me.” She eyed Angel’s oversized top.

  “We did get positive identification for the bodies today. Hannah Sharp and Logan Finley. Is that what you’re talking about?”

  Etta’s bracelets jangled as she waved. “I heard about that from the deputies in the break room and on the news. Oh, and the radio. That guy on the news talk radio channel is covering the murders twenty-four hours a day. Matter of fact, starting tomorrow, he’s going to be taking calls from women who fit what the killer goes after, since we’ll be down to the last three days.”

  The last three days. They’d worked the case solid and had a profile of the killer, but too many people fit the profile, and not one soul had come forward with information on his identity. And now the radio station publicized that there were women out there fitting his criteria?

  Angel only wanted him to have one woman to choose from. “Get me the number of that radio station, Etta.”

  Etta waved her bangle-clad arms. “Oh, I didn’t mean talking to women in Macon. He’s got an 800 number, and he’s asking women from other cities to call in and tell how they’d feel if they lived in Macon. He made no bones about telling all women who fit the killer’s type in Macon to get out of Dodge.”

  “Thank heaven for small favors.”

  “The rumor is the one saying you’ve got a little one on the way. It’s still going around.”

  Angel didn’t miss a beat. She hadn’t announced her pregnancy, because Pierce had told her to keep the facts to herself and let the department determine the truth on their own. But she wouldn’t lie to her new friend. “Etta, I’ll tell you the truth. I’ve promised Captain Pierce I won’t say anything else about it.” She glanced at her stomach, a little rounder than it’d been the first time she’d met the sweet lady, and not merely because of Etta’s delicious banana nut bread. “So I am not going to say anything else about it.”

  Etta’s mouth flattened, and she nodded, as if she’d known the truth already. “Well, I’m certainly not going to broadcast it, or anything, or feed the rumors.” She audibly sighed. “You can take care of yourself, though, I assume, with all of your FBI training and all, right?” Her look of hope touched Angel’s heart.

  “Right.” Angel certainly planned to take care of herself, as well as the tiny person growing inside of her. For the past few weeks, since learning about the pregnancy, she’d felt different. An appreciation for life, and a desire to protect this baby.

  “I know it ain’t the ideal situation, raising a child without a husband in the house, but my girls have turned out okay, even though their father didn’t stick around long enough for the ink to dry on the marriage license.”

  “You’re still married to him?”

  “I reckon I am. I ain’t got nothing that tells me any different.”

  Angel leaned against the wall, eyed the sweet woman who’d grown dear to her heart. “You still love him?”

  Etta blushed. “I guess it’s true what they say. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I come from a family that marries for life. I married. He left.”

  “And you still love him.”

  “Yeah, I reckon I do.”

  “Then I hope everything works out the way you want.”

  “Well, thanks. You know, there’s only three days until the killer tries to strike again. Why don’t you come over and spend the night with me and my girls that night, just to be on the safe side? We’d love to have you, and I’ll make you a home-cooked meal like you ain’t ever had before, complete with my special recipe banana nut bread.”

  “I’ll be fine on my own, but I’d love to take a rain check for the meal, if you don’t mind. And speaking of your banana nut bread,” she dug around in her purse, then withdrew an index card. “I wrote the information down for the jacket. They’ve got them on sale now, and they still have them in yellow, so you should go ahead and place your order.”

  “Thanks!” Etta snatched the card and grinned enough to display gold tooth. “Guess that means I’ll have to give you my recipe, huh?”

  “That’s what it means.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll call you with it. I could try to recite it from memory, and I might get it right, but I don’t want to leave anything out, since you’ve been so sweet to give me the jacket information. You’ve even got the item number on here.” She tapped the card. “This should be a cinch to order.”

  “Well, if it isn’t, let me know. I’m a savvy Internet shopper.”

  “I think I’ll manage. Hang on a second.” She disappeared into her office, then returned with a notepad and a pen. “Jot your cell number, and I’ll call you with the recipe from home.”

  Angel wrote the number and handed the pad back to the sweet lady. “Thanks.”

  “No, thank you. CiCi is gonna love the new coat.”

  “I’m sure she will. I’ll see you tomorrow, Etta.” Angel headed toward the lobby.

  “See you in the morning.” Etta jangled back to her room.

  Angel stepped outside, and the heat enveloped her completely. Three days until May 10th, the date the killer would strike again. She’d done everything she could to stop it, but he’d still try to accomplish his goal this Friday. She hoped he tried to accomplish it with her. FBI special agents weren’t trained to merely shoot. If she withdrew her weapon, she’d shoot to kill, and she wouldn’t lose one minute’s sleep over it.

  “Angel,” Lexie neared the building with John by her side, “Where are you going?”

  “Back to Cami Talton’s and Vickie Jones’ houses. And I know, we’ve gone over both with a fine-toothed comb, but I don’t think it’ll hurt to give it another go. How did Hannah’s family take the news?”

  John had offered to deliver the news that one of the bodies they found had been verified as Hannah’s. He’d known the Sharps in the past and had felt the news would come easier from him. Lexie had gone along to provide a female counterpart. Angel’s team used the same procedure to deliver bad news, and she’d been impressed with John for suggesting Lexie accompany him for the trip.

  Lexie frowned. “It didn’t go very well.”

  “They claimed she died the moment she slept with Finley without the bond of marriage, rather than on the day when she was brutally murdered.” John’s anger at their response bristled through his words.

  “They acted like they didn’t care. But I believe I did see a tear in her mother’s eye.” Lexie’s eyes were tear-stained, and Angel suspected her cousin had shed more tears for Hannah than her own parents.

  “Well I hope so.” Angel had never understood parents that didn’t give their children unconditional love. She may not have had her parents growing up, but she’d received that from Aunt Carol, and from her cousin. “So what are you doing now?”

  “Meeting with Pierce.” Lexie pushed the strap of her computer bag up on her shoulder. “He wants to get another detailed round of information out to the public before Friday. We’re doing a major media blitz requesting all women who fit the criteria to leave town.”

  “According to Etta, the DJ on the talk radio station has jum
ped on it.”

  John nodded. “Yeah, that’s what we heard.”

  Lexie stepped closer to Angel. They’d started spending more time talking one-on-one, since everyone assumed they were discussing the case. Both of them looked forward to the day they could announce their relationship to the city, and announce that they’d defeated the man who killed Angel’s mother. “Did you go see Granddaddy yesterday?”

  “Yeah. He’s doing okay, but still watching the news nonstop. He knows it’s about time for something to happen.”

  “I’ve decided to head to Valdosta on Thursday, while John stays here to watch after you.”

  “I think I can manage on my own,” Angel shook her head when Lexie tried to interject, “but I’m not going to turn down your offer. Even though I caught the Oklahoma City guy by playing bait, it didn’t go as smoothly as I’d have liked, and I think having an extra gun hiding out in my hotel room wouldn’t hurt at all.”

  “That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard you say in years.”

  Angel snorted. “Well, I’m glad I’ve impressed you. Now, I’m going to check out the last two crime scenes again, just in case we missed something.”

  “We didn’t,” John said. “But go ahead.”

  Angel tossed her hair in mock defiance, then stalked toward her Tahoe.

  He watched her, the confident gait, the long blonde hair, the air of control. Little did she know, he still mastered his domain. And hers. FBI agent or not, Angel Jackson had sinned, and she’d pay for her crime. He knew she carried a child, no matter that she hadn’t confessed the fact.

  She passed his car in the parking area.

  He smiled and waved.

  She waved back.

  Foolish woman, trying to claim power that wasn’t hers and believing she could save herself from her destiny. She couldn’t. No one could. And no one could stop him, no matter how hard they tried or how close they came to the truth.

  John Tucker and Lexie McCain stopped shy of the entry to the police station. The detective turned toward her and leaned in, said something close to her face, and she smiled. Then he tucked a blonde curl behind her ear and stroked his finger down the column of her throat.

  They were disgusting. He held his breath as Tucker said something else to her, then brushed a kiss on her forehead before they entered the station. He knew Tucker had been staying at Lexie’s house, knew they sinned. If only Lexie McCain were the chosen one, he wouldn’t have any question about who his next victim would be. Angel Jackson intrigued, but Lexie mesmerized. She’d create riveting power. He felt it when he watched her speak, sensed it in the way she moved. Her child would hold great power.

  If only the rules were different, he’d remove John Tucker from the picture. But rules were rules, and in his case, they weren’t made to be broken.

  Logan Finley. Logan. Finley.

  “That didn’t count.” Finley refused to hand Hannah over, even when the idiot knew what had to happen. Logan became an obstacle, and he had to be removed. Since then, it hadn’t happened again. Every sacrifice had been provided without interference.

  What about the other two?

  He wiped a drop of sweat from his temple and swore aloud. He wouldn’t feel guilty over Finley. His death didn’t break the rules. Killing him had been removal of a necessary evil. He wouldn’t think about the others. How could he have completed his plan if they told what they knew? Both of them would have told; they said so. He’d been so certain they—of all people—would understand. But they didn’t, and he had no choice.

  He cranked his vehicle, started from the lot, and headed out of Macon. Within fifteen minutes, he’d returned to the place where he’d spent so much time as a child. Police tape curled around the trees, forming a thin plastic yellow barricade that kept vehicles from the path.

  Parking the car, he got out and inhaled the scent of the forest, of damp leaves and mulch and earth and death. Oh, he knew the scent of death, strong and powerful and sweet. Sweet victory. He’d claimed it first right here, with Hannah and Logan, so long ago. It’d been so easy. He asked them to meet him, so he could wish them well on their journey and show there were no hard feelings. He even told them he wanted to give them some cash to help them get on their feet when they began a new life for themselves and for the baby Hannah carried.

  And they’d come, with Hannah even daring to wear the locket he’d given her, the symbol of what should have been, of what they’d shared before she betrayed him with Logan Finley.

  Stupid. They were so naïve, so trusting. Didn’t they realize they’d sinned? Didn’t they know they had to pay for that sin? Retribution.

  A soft rain started to fall. He turned his head toward the sky and let it bathe his flesh. He’d been so hot, heated by the thoughts of evil, and the cool kiss of Heaven rewarded him, washed the filth away. He’d always loved rain.

  Blinking through the water, he looked toward the hill where John Tucker and Lexie McCain had huddled, caressing each other as they stood and viewed the expanse of the Fellowship’s lands. Had they been awestruck by the power here? Had they even realized the magnitude? And of what had occurred on this very land?

  “Hey, you’re back?”

  He swallowed hard, then turned on his heel to view Richard Barnes walking up the pathway toward the street. Barnes ducked beneath the yellow tape, popped back up on this side, and grinned. “Nasty weather, huh?”

  “Yeah. Nasty.”

  “Seems everywhere I go, you’re right behind me.” Barnes stretched his grin into round cheeks as though he found something funny about surveying the place where believers had rejoiced, and sinners had died.

  “I didn’t see your car.”

  “Parked over the hill there.” Barnes jerked his head to the right. “We decided to look a little farther out, see if we saw anything the others may have missed. I’m wanting a promotion, you know, and I figured finding something extra to help them solve this case wouldn’t hurt.” Richard stepped closer, chuckled, then slapped his arm. “I didn’t realize you were so buff. You work out, huh?”

  “Yeah, I do. You said ‘we.’ Who else is here?”

  “Just Omar and Sal. Omar is over there in the meadow. See?” Richard pointed toward the flat field bordering the forest, where a cop wandered around the edge of the trees looking more like he wanted to stay out of the rain rather than solve a crime. “Sal is checking out the area surrounding the old altar, where the bodies were found.”

  “Oh.”

  “You going back in to view the scene? I’ll go with you. We can see if Sal has found anything worth noting.”

  “Nah, that’s okay. I’d rather take a look on my own. Guess I’m like you, trying to find additional clues. I’ll steer clear of Sal and let him do the same.”

  “Right, get more clues. I knew that’s what you were doing. That’s your thing, after all, right? Getting information.”

  “Right.”

  “Richard, I haven’t found anything, and it’s coming down like a Bible plague! I say we head out!” Omar yelled.

  Like a Bible plague. What a unique reference. Perhaps Omar knew the law of the land, this land in particular.

  “All right!” Richard grinned again. “Guess we’re heading out. He’s right. This rain is working up.” He slung water off the side of his face to emphasize his point. “You still going in? Wanna tell Sal we’re in the car, where it’s dry?” His eyes squinted through the water.

  “Yeah, I’ll tell Sal.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey, Barnes?”

  The cop stopped walking. “Yeah?”

  “I thought you were watching the doctor’s place.”

  “I was, but there’s no reason to anymore.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “All the females fitting the description have left town.” Richard laughed. “Can’t say as I blame them, but for the past two weeks, there haven’t been any patients who aren’t brunette, black-haired or redheaded. Well, except for the profiler, and w
e know he’s not gonna touch her.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Everyone knows those FBI agents know their way with a gun. And besides, she flat out said she wants to do him in.” He winked, made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I think the only way he’ll go for Angel Jackson is if she’s the last blonde, single, pregnant lady in Macon.” He laughed out loud. “Then again, with all of them jumping ship, she may be.”

  Thunder boomed in the distance, and the rain grew as thick as a water wall.

  “I’m outta here. Tell Sal to get to the car. If I were you, I wouldn’t wait too long about heading out too. But do whatever ya want.”

  “Thanks.” He watched Richard jitter away in the rain like a nervous little kid. “I will. In fact, I’ll do exactly what I want.”

  But he wasn’t going to do what he wanted today. He wanted to go back to the now open grave and remember the day so long ago when he put Hannah and Logan Finley inside. But that desire died when Sal’s scream echoed through the woods and rain.

  “Barnes! Get over here! We’ve got another body!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Angel stormed into Ed Pierce’s office without the common courtesy of knocking. He didn’t deserve courtesy today; he deserved a throttling. What had he been thinking?

  His head jerked to attention, and he stopped typing on his computer keyboard. “Jackson. You may be FBI, but this had better be important for you to barge in uninvit—”

  “What were you thinking?” Her voice sounded calm in comparison to her anger. “And tell me you’re not communicating with him now.”

  “With who?” He didn’t sound convincing. He knew, and he’d give her the truth about it soon, before he blew their case—correction, her case—out of the water. “Want to tell me what you’re talking about, Agent Jackson?”

  “I’m talking about this.” She held emails from the techies at the field office. Emails that identified the website of the “New Fellowship,” as well as the transcript of this morning’s heated chat session, a session between TRUTHLUVR and PROTECT&SRV.