Profiled

by Renee Andrews

  The mingled combination of fierce determination, anger and pain on John’s face had caused Lexie’s chest and stomach to clench tight, which hadn’t been a good thing. She ran from the room with her hand over her mouth, barely making it to the bathroom in time, then threw up with a vengeance, while Etta Green offered soothing words and cool cloths.

  Had she ever gotten so upset she’d vomited? No, never. In fact, she’d always been a real trouper when it came to holding it all together. But this morning, not only had she not held it all together, she couldn’t even hold her head upright. How pathetic. And now that she had every bit of information for the final piece, the segment that summarized each of the killer’s victims, she couldn’t make her stomach settle down enough to type the words.

  She knew the truth; her worry for Angel and her baby consumed her now. What if the killer took another person she loved? How could she live if something happened to Angel? The extent of her worry was actually making her sick, and she couldn’t control it. She closed her eyes. God, you let me save her on the day she was born. Don’t let anything happen to her now.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Melody Harper’s head poked around the side of the cubicle like a turtle peeking from its shell.

  Saliva pooled in Lexie’s mouth. She did not need to think about turtles. But she did. “Excuse me.” She darted past Melody and shot toward the bathroom. Since she had no food left to lose, she spent five minutes dry heaving, then splashed her face, rinsed her mouth and headed back to her desk determined to finish her piece.

  “McCain, you gonna make it?” Paul entered the tiny cubicle behind her wearing aftershave, something strong. Did he always wear that much? Did he have to wear that much?

  Lexie’s eyes burned, throat convulsed, and she started running again. This time, when she returned, he sat in her chair. He stood, motioned for her to sit. “How much more do you have to go on the story?”

  “A lot, but today’s the last day to get the information to them, and I’ve got to finish.”

  “I know. There’s no way I would suggest you quit now, nor is there any way I’d suggest you passing off to another reporter; however, if you don’t go to a doctor and get something to help, right now, I’m going to find it necessary to fire you.” He jerked his head in a single nod, then pointed to the mock doorway in her cubicle. “And after you get something to help, go home, take the meds, then call Henry when you’re ready to tape the segment.” He crossed his arms beneath his chest, leaned against her wall and waited.

  “The doctor, huh?” She grabbed her purse. “I’m guessing I look as bad as I feel?”

  His head tilted, steel gray eyes studied her. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want the truth.”

  Lexie had no idea what Paul would ask, but his tone told her to prepare for the worst. Melody heard it too, because her typing came to a screeching halt. “What do you want to know?”

  Paul cleared his throat. “I pass your house on my way home each night and again each morning. I’ve seen Tucker’s truck.”

  “You know that he’s been seeing me home.”

  “Listen, what you do away from here is your business. But if you now fit all of the killer’s criteria.” When Lexie gasped, he continued, “If you’re pregnant, McCain…”

  “I’m not. He guards the house, in his truck, in the driveway.”

  “How many times have you tossed it since you got here today?”

  “Three, but I must have some kind of bug.”

  “Actually four,” Melody piped in from her cubicle.

  “Ms. Harper, don’t you have work to do?”

  “Yes, sir,” she mumbled, but Lexie didn’t hear her typing.

  “Lexie, if you’re pregnant…”

  “I’m not. I can’t be.”

  “Are you telling me that Tucker hasn’t been spending his nights at your place?”

  “He has, but like I said…”

  “No.” Paul stopped her explanation and pointed toward Melody’s cubicle. “We don’t need to discuss this further. Go to the doctor. See what’s going on. And, if I’m right, you’d better leave town. Today.”

  “I’m telling the truth.” She powered down her computer then left the office walking slowly so she wouldn’t upset her nervous stomach.

  Climbing in her car, she made a decision that would change her life, change all of their lives. Grateful John was busy making preparations with Angel for tonight’s attack, Lexie didn’t tell either of them what she planned, but she knew in her heart that she’d made the right decision, the only decision. They expected the killer to go for Angel since she was the only female in town that fit his criteria. They also thought Lexie would leave this afternoon to spend time with her grandfather until they caught the killer.

  Yes, she’d go see Granddaddy, since Jackie called saying he’d asked for her, but she wouldn’t stay all day. She’d visit, then return to Macon. Because, Lexie now suspected that the killer would hear that Angel wasn’t the only blonde, single and pregnant female in town. She didn’t believe in sex outside of marriage, and she hadn’t had sex with John. She also didn’t believe in lying or deceiving, and she wondered what God would think of what she was about to do.

  Stay with me, God. I’m going to need you today more than ever. Please understand. Please be with me. Don’t leave me, Lord.

  She left the parking area and drove the short distance to the doctor’s office, not the office Paul had meant, but then again, he hadn’t specified. And she hadn’t lied to him either; she’d go to the doctor to find out why she was sick.

  Within two hours, she’d obtained the results she expected. Not pregnant, but she’d been seen going to Dr. Weatherly’s office. And John’s truck had been seen each night at her home by Paul and, she suspected, by the killer. His tinted windows hid the fact that he sat inside the vehicle, which would work to her advantage now.

  During the drive to Valdosta, her queasiness came back with gusto, and she ended up pulling over twice. The timing for the stomach virus or nervous stomach was both horrible and perfect. Horrible, because she felt lousy during the drive to Valdosta and wanted to be home in bed. And perfect, because from all appearances, she could be pregnant.

  Lexie arrived at Murrell’s Assisted Living, exited the car, took a deep breath, and fought the impulse to get sick again due to the smell of full magnolia blossoms. “God, help me.” She leaned against the Lexus until she got her bearings.

  “Are you okay?”

  Lexie turned toward the voice and saw a young man, around Phillip Jr.’s age, walking down the porch steps, then crossing the parking lot toward her. “Stomach bug.”

  He had sandy hair, long on top and clipped short on the sides. Brown eyes surveyed her with obvious concern, and his mouth formed a definite frown of disapproval. “Granted, I’m not a doctor, but you don’t look so good.”

  She laughed. “No offense, but doctors aren’t the only ones who need good bedside manners, and yours need some work. If I didn’t feel bad before, I do now.”

  His smile claimed his entire face, reminding her even more of her son. How she missed him, and she wouldn’t forgive herself if she did something tonight that cost her more time with Phillip, Jr. Or Angel. Or John. But she had to do this to make sure the killer didn’t take two more people she loved.

  “I’ll work on my bedside tactics, should I decide to go pre-med.” He grinned. “By the way, I’m Jacob. Jacob Zimmerman.”

  Lexie’s eyes widened. “You’re the teen from the local church?”

  Another laugh rumbled from his chest. “I am from the church, but I’m in the college program. I’m afraid I look young to the Murrells, and they keep forgetting I’m not one of the teens.”

  “After you get a certain age, I guess everyone younger looks like a kid. You’re here to see my grandfather?”

  “I came this morning to see him. Ms. Murrell called me at lunch, though, and told me you were coming this afternoon. Even told me what kind of car you drive,
so I could watch for you. This time, I’m here to see you—and to apologize.”

  “Apologize?” Lexie started walking across the parking lot with Jacob Zimmerman alongside. “What for?”

  “Easter morning. Ms. Murrell said she kept meaning to ask me if I knew anything about where your grandfather went, and I hadn’t even realized they didn’t know he was with me. I should’ve made certain they knew, but I assumed he told them.”

  “He talks to you? In sentences?”

  “Not all the time, but yeah, sometimes. However, he gets my name confused. Or thinks I’m someone else.” He grinned. “That happens a lot with the folks I visit.”

  “What does he call you?”

  “Phillip.”

  Lexie’s chest tightened, and her stomach tensed, but it stayed settled for now. “That’s my son. His great-grandson.”

  “Ms. Murrell told me.”

  “So where did you take him Easter morning?”

  “I didn’t know where we were going at first. When I came by to visit him before church, he’d dressed in his suit. I asked where he was going, and he grabbed my hand, then led the way out of the house.”

  “No one saw you leaving?”

  “We went out the side entrance, the one that leads to the garden. At first I thought he wanted to go out by the pond and sit, like the other folks here often do, but he started toward the parking lot and pointed to my keys. I knew it was okay for the residents to leave, so I didn’t think it’d hurt to take him where he wanted to go.”

  “So you took him.”

  “Yeah. I thought he wanted to go to church, since it was Easter and all, and I thought it’d be nice to take him to the church he wanted to attend. As we started driving, he pointed down the streets where he wanted to go, or told me to turn. So I did.”

  “And you didn’t go to a church?”

  “No, but he did have a definite destination. It was kind of far, and that’s why we were gone so long, but I think it meant a lot to him.”

  “Where did you go?” Curiosity made Lexie’s skin tingle.

  “To a cemetery in Macon. He led me through the plots and we went straight to his wife’s grave, your grandmother’s grave, I assume. Then he showed me the three tombstones beside hers—the ones for his daughters.”

  Lexie’s throat tightened. She couldn’t speak. She’d taken him there a few times, but she didn’t even realize he’d remember the way. And he’d wanted to see them on Easter, on the day the killer had murdered again. The same killer that put Aunt Bev in her grave.

  “I just wanted to apologize in person for worrying you. Ms. Murrell said she kept meaning to ask me about it, but she never did, not until this morning, or I’d have told you before now. Anyway, I’ll try to keep you informed if he wants me to take him anywhere else. I do like visiting with your grandfather, by the way. He’s a very tenderhearted man. I could tell by the emotion he had when he visited their graves. He misses them.”

  Lexie swallowed back the tears.

  “Well, I’ve got a class this afternoon, so I better go. But I wanted to apologize and tell you how much I’ve enjoyed spending time with him.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand. “I can’t tell you how much that means.”

  She watched him leave then turned to enter the home.

  As she’d told John and Angel, she visited with her grandfather, but instead of staying overnight, she remained for an hour. During that time, she made her grandfather a solemn promise—by tomorrow, the monster that destroyed their lives would be gone.

  And then, with Nicholas Truman’s nod of agreement beckoning her forward, she returned to her car, returned to Macon and returned to the killer.

  John and Angel kept their poker faces in place throughout the morning task force meeting, but by afternoon, after Lexie left to see her grandfather in Valdosta, they were busy preparing a welcome package for the killer. They met with Angel’s backup, Federal agents currently positioned strategically down the street and in the lobby of her hotel. They’d planned tonight’s arrest perfectly and were beyond ready.

  All they needed was the killer.

  Angel checked her Glock again, while John scoped out the parking lot from the bedroom window. Because this assignment was potentially long term, the department had splurged, putting her in a two room suite at the hotel. It’d felt expansive and roomy, until tonight. Right now, the two rooms felt as though they were closing in, smothering Angel and her baby.

  She thought about the child growing inside of her and of how much her appreciation for life had increased over the past few weeks, since she learned she was now responsible for two lives. Yes, this baby made her the perfect candidate to serve as bait for a killer. But she couldn’t deny that there’d been a couple of times over the past few days that she’d felt the desire to do what every other blonde, single and pregnant female in Macon had evidently already done.

  Protect her child and get far away from the killer.

  But this man killed her mother and nearly took Angel’s life before it even began. And if she didn’t stop him, he’d kill more mothers—she swallowed, thought of her baby again—and he’d kill more babies.

  Angel couldn’t let that happen.

  But she’d also realized something else since learning about her baby. She wanted desperately to protect the child, but she couldn’t do it alone.

  While John remained in the darkness of the bedroom scoping out the parking lot, Angel sat on the couch in the main room and closed her eyes.

  It’s been years since I’ve talked to You, years since I felt I needed You. She swallowed past the urge to cry. There was no time for tears tonight. I blamed You for what happened to my mother, and I’ve never given You a chance to have control of my life. She slid her eyes open, saw that John was still in the other room, then closed them again. But I’m asking for You to take control now. I may have denied You, may not have wanted to think I need help to accomplish this goal, but there are more people involved now than just me. And I need You, I’m begging You, to help me keep my baby safe tonight. Let us stop this guy, and protect my baby too, God. Please. You know I’ve never been so scared as I am right now. And I am asking You to help me be strong and help me protect this baby. She opened her eyes once more, took a deep breath, then slid them closed again. And God, if we get through this night okay, help me to trust in You the way Lexie does. I’ve never had You in my life before, but I want You. I want peace. Watch over me tonight, and watch over my child. Amen.

  “Something feels odd.” John’s voice echoed from the other room, and Angel was glad she had a moment to wipe away the tears that had, in fact, slipped free during her prayer.

  “The hotel? I told you, it shouldn’t matter to him whether it is a house or a hotel. If he thinks that he is being led to do this by that Supreme One, then he’ll think he won’t find any obstacles to completing his plan.”

  John stepped into the main room. They had all of the main lights out, with only the moonlight spilling in through the shades providing any illumination, but she could still see the hard planes of his face etched with undeniable concern. “I’m thinking something isn’t right. What if he wasn’t as drawn to you as a target as we hoped? What if another blonde, single and pregnant woman is somewhere in the city.”

  “Do you really think they haven’t all left? With all of the warnings, not only from the media, but from their doctor?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. It just seems…”

  “Too easy?”

  “Maybe.”

  “It means we’re prepared. Besides, we’ve got our backup outside.” She sure hoped that was the reason the setup felt off to John, because she also felt like something wasn’t right. Then again, it wasn’t midnight yet, so there wasn’t any chance of their killer striking here yet.

  He looked at her sitting on the couch. “You always this calm?”

  “I’m trained to be more calm as tension increases. Let’s just say the tension is at a fe
ver pitch.” And she was glad she appeared calm. Inside, she was anything but.

  He moved to the window, fingered the shades and looked out. “I’m still not certain your guys can watch this place and be discreet enough if our killer ends up being a cop.”

  “They’re good. Haven’t lost a profiler yet.” She tried to put his concern at ease, but she’d wondered the same thing. This killer was sharp, methodical and strategic. He’d gotten away with this bizarre scenario for twenty-eight years. But Angel hoped his ego came back to haunt him this time. He undoubtedly thought that, with the Supreme One on his side, he was untouchable. And she hoped he showed up here tonight believing that.

  And finding himself in the crosshairs.

  John’s attention zeroed in on Angel’s hand, draped over the side of the couch, thrumming against the soft material. “You think something’s not right too, don’t you?”

  Her confident smile slipped a fraction. “It’s gone too smoothly. I want to think it’s because we’ve done our job, but this guy is smart. And would a smart guy come after me now? But, if there is no other potential victim in Macon, and assuming he’s counted Macon as part of the rule scenario he’s developed, then it seems logical he’d have to come after me, right?” She wanted words of wisdom, of assurance.

  John had none to offer. “How many serial killers have been known for their logic?”

  “He’s not coming here, Tucker. I can feel it. But I truly believe I’m the only target left in town. He has to come.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t believe you’re actually pregnant.”

  “I have a file at Dr. Weatherly’s office that has me three months pregnant. And I’ve tossed my lunch every day, and anyone who has seen me running to the bathroom at the station knows I wasn’t faking that.”

  “Maybe he hasn’t been at the station. Maybe he’s one of the guys that fits the profile, but he’s further from the case than we thought. There are others who fit the profile, you know.”

  “Like?”

  “Elijah Lewis, for one. That photographer has popped up in odd places several times in this investigation already. And I’m sure there are others close to the case in that type of capacity that we may not have considered closely enough.”