Profiled (20 page)

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Authors: Renee Andrews

BOOK: Profiled
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As bait.

 

“Lexie, good to see you back.” Paul Kingsley’s loud voice made Lexie jump. “No need to be nervous. It’s just me. That killer has everybody jittery, doesn’t he?”

She nodded. “I guess so. Dinah told me to wait in your office. She said you’d be here soon.”

“I know.” He picked up the remote, flipped on the televisions then dropped his duffle bag on the floor. A health fanatic, Paul looked like he always did when he came into work, like he’d just finished a morning workout. Except on a typical day he made it into work well before—she glanced at her watch—9:30. “I called her on my way in. She mentioned you wanted to see me.
Did you learn anything new about our guy yesterday? Got anything for the lead story?”

“No, I really took a personal day.”

He glanced at his computer and wiped a drop of sweat from his temple. Or a drop of water. Maybe he showered after he came in. It amazed Lexie how he could show up in the middle of the night to verify the early news progressed on schedule and still managed to exercise every morning. Lexie suspected his work schedule had been a major reason why his marriage had failed, not that she’d ever point that out to her boss.

“Tucker was supposed to call and fill me in, but he must’ve forgotten. We were afraid you’d gone off chasing that madman on your own.” He cut his gaze at her and grinned. “Wouldn’t be unlike you to put yourself in danger for a story, would it? I’m guessing John did find you, right?”

“He found me.”  No need telling Paul they’d followed each other back to Macon, after she’d introduced him to her grandfather this morning, then told him a portion of her past. Not everything—yet—but enough that he believed her and believed that she trusted him.

“Good. So, what did you want to talk to me about? The story?”

“Yes. I have an idea about a way to bring the public closer to it, make them care about the victims and get more people out there to be on the lookout for the killer.”

He leaned forward in his chair. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“You may remember in my films from the Atlanta station how I profiled each victim of the I-20 rapist. I covered those he’d killed, as well as the sole survivor.”

“Of course I remember. That was some of your best work, and it convinced me we had to have you here. You’re thinking about doing that again for the Talton and Jones women?”

“I’m thinking about starting with them and working my way back, through each woman he murdered throughout the past four cycles.”

“I like it.” He nodded. “It will humanize them and remind the public that these aren’t just names. They’re people whose lives have been taken. People, like our viewers. And like their mothers, sisters or daughters. Yeah, I like it a lot.” He jotted something down on a yellow pad. “But why not start with the first victim and work your way forward? Seems that’d make more sense.”

“Two reasons. One, I have more information about the most recent victims, so it’d be easier to portray their stories and will give me time to accumulate details about the prior victims. And two, because the police still don’t believe the first victim has been identified yet.”

“Right. The missing persons info.” He glanced back at CNN. “Nothing come of that yet?”

“According to Captain Pierce, the names should be available today, but I’ll need time to find out as much as I can about that first victim, since right now we don’t even know her name. Or what he did with her body.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out, McCain. As usual.”

“Then I can run with the stories?”

“Of course. And I want you to continue a separate piece regarding the updates on what’s happening with the task force. The more the public is informed, the better. You’re going to spotlight one victim per day?”

She nodded. “That’s the plan.”

“Perfect. Starting today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow. I have to attend the task force meeting in an hour, then I’ll start working on Vickie Jones’ story. Problem is, there isn’t any family to interview, and her ex-husband isn’t talking to anyone.”

“You spoke to him?”

“Called him this morning on my way in. Got a ‘no comment.’”

“What about the waitress that found her? She should be able to give you some insight.”

“I reached her this morning at the Waffle House, and she agreed to meet with me this afternoon. She’s determined to help the police find the man who hurt Vickie.”

“Great. We’ll run her story tomorrow and promise Cami Talton’s for the next day.” He tapped his pen against the paper. “This is quite an ordeal you’re taking on, McCain. Sure you’ll be able to produce one a day?”

“I have to. We don’t have that many days before he strikes again. I believe humanizing his victims and outlining how horrendous his acts have been will increase public awareness. Maybe even convince someone who knows something to come forward.” Her skin tingled the way it always did when she worked on a breaking news story.

“Let me know if you need help. And keep me aware of whatever you find out, whether it makes the broadcast or not. I can pull another reporter to aid with research if you need it.”

“I’ve got everything I need in those police files. If I can interview a family member or two for each victim as well, that should give me what I’m looking for.” A method of presenting the information in a way that will make people stop, listen and heed her warning.

“All right. But if you change your mind about needing help, let me know.” He pushed the pen and paper aside, stretched his arms, then clasped his fingers behind his head. “I don’t say it very often, but you do a great job around here. We’re glad you’re on board.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re going to the police department, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me know if they come up with any new angles on the killer.”

“I will.” She left his office, stopped by her cubicle and grabbed her notes, then turned and nearly ran right into Melody Harper, her granny glasses balancing on the tip of her nose.

“Sorry, Lexie. I was wondering if you’d heard anything else about that killer. Delia’s been a wreck knowing he’s out there and all. I know she’s married, but what if he doesn’t know that? Kevin travels all the time, and Delia’s often by herself. What if the killer thinks she’s single? I’ve been trying to talk her into moving in with me until the guy is found, but she doesn’t want to leave their home.”

“I don’t have any new information other than what’s been aired, but I’m working on learning more. In any case, this guy is smart. If she’s married, he knows it. And he’s very specific about his criteria.”

Melody forced a smile. “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sure. But I’ll feel better when the police get the lunatic.”

“You and me both.”

“You’ll let me know, though, if you learn anything new?”

“I’ll let everyone know. I promise.”

Melody nodded, then returned to her cubicle.

Lexie had fifteen minutes before the task force meeting. The police station was only five minutes away, so she maneuvered through the maze of cubicles in the office and sprinted across the parking lot to her car.

She jumped in and started to turn the key when her cell phone rang, the caller id displaying
RESTRICTED
. Even so, she hit the talk button. “Hello.”

“I need to tell you something.”

Lexie’s hand pressed the phone closer to her ear. “Angel? Where are you calling from?”

“The line is secure. And I need to let you know something. I went to Dr. Weatherly’s this morning to talk to her about the case.”

“But John already talked to her.”

“I know, but I thought she might have remembered something.”

“Had she?”

“No, but Elijah Lewis saw me at her office and assumed that I must be pregnant, since he’d seen me getting sick outside of Vickie Jones’ home.”

“That’s crazy.” Lexie thought of the sleazy photographer. “And I’m guessing that he spread the news.”

“Made it to Pierce in less than an hour.”

“Gotta love small town gossip. But you’re telling them it’s not true, right?”

“I’m
telling
them.” Angel drew out the verb.

“What does that mean?” Then Lexie made an
ahh
sound. “They don’t believe you, do they?”

“No, but there’s more to this, Lexie. I told Pierce I wasn’t, insisted I couldn’t be, but then I realized that wasn’t true.”

“That
what
wasn’t true?”

“I told him there was no way I could be pregnant, but the truth is, there is.”

“Angel, you haven’t even been seeing anyone. You’ve told me that every time we’ve talked.”

“I know, but it wasn’t a relationship. Just a brief infatuation. And when I got to thinking about me getting sick at the crime scene, something I never do, and then I started counting the days, I realized that I might actually be pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant?” Fear pulsed through Lexie at the mere thought. She pinched her eyes closed, said a quick prayer to say the right thing. “Angel, that isn’t right, to bring a child into the world without love between…”

“Don’t preach to me, Lexie. I can’t take it. I’ve got to decide what to do.”

“What to do?” Angel had always been against harming an unborn child, especially because of the Sunrise Killer. He’d killed her mother, twenty-eight other women and all of their babies. Surely Angel hadn’t changed her feelings toward anyone who took the life of a child. “What do you mean? You—you aren’t thinking about having an…” She couldn’t make herself say the word.

“No, no, I’d never do that. You know that, Lexie. I’d never do anything to hurt a child, even if it’s one I hadn’t planned. But if I am pregnant, then I know the truth. I’ll be the killer’s next target.”

Lexie’s head fell back against the seat. “Angel, you can’t do it again. That killer in Oklahoma nearly got you last time, remember? You’re
not
going to use yourself as bait. And it wouldn’t be just you either. If you’re pregnant, you’re risking the baby too. I won’t let you.”

“Listen. I’ve already got it approved with my team. I called Quantico and they agreed with my plan, but they didn’t realize I might actually be pregnant. However, that won’t change anything for them. Pregnant or not, this is my case. And pregnant or not, they agreed for me to act as bait. They’re sending plenty of backup. It’ll work. We can get him this way. The thing is, since three members of the task force fit the profile, I’m not going to tell any of them that I’ve become the target.”

Lexie couldn’t fathom that Angel might be pregnant. “Have you told the baby’s father?”

“No.”

“Who is it, Angel?”

“You don’t know him, Lexie, and who he is isn’t what’s important now. Whether the killer
sees me as the perfect target, that’s what’s important.”

“How do you know he’ll even come after you?”

“I fit the criteria. I haven’t taken the pregnancy test yet, but I just picked one up, and I’m fairly certain it’s going to tell me that I’m about eight months away from a baby. If I am, he won’t pass up the opportunity. I’m a thorn in his side, for sure.”

“If you are pregnant, you need to tell the task force. They could help.” Lexie closed her eyes again.
God, please, don’t let Angel be pregnant. But if she is, Lord, as in all things, let Your will be done. But protect her please, Lord. Protect her, and protect the baby.

“I’m not telling the task force anything. I’ve told Pierce and Etta the rumor isn’t true. I’ll let them relay the information. Then I’ll start showing signs of pregnancy. That will get their attention. Any way I look at this thing, the killer would be close to the case. If it appears I lied to them about the pregnancy, that’ll only pique the killer’s interest. He may not be a task force member, but he could be.”

“You said three of them. Who are you counting?” Lexie asked, realized—feared—the reasoning behind the given number.

“Lou, Ryan and John.”

Lexie’s attention quickly turned from Angel’s potential pregnancy to John’s innocence. “John didn’t do it. You
can’t
still suspect him.”

“Hey, I’ve seen the way you look at him, and I admit I trust your judgment, but he does fit the profile.”

“I think I may love him.” Lexie waited for a response, or the sound of Angel’s breathing. She heard nothing. “Angel?”

“I told you not to get involved. Not until we know for sure.”

“He’s innocent, Angel. I can see it in his eyes, and I feel it. Plus, I realized this morning why I trusted him so soon. He looks like his father.”

“His father?”

“Milton Tucker, the Bibb County Sheriff back then, when it happened. He’s the one who came to talk to me after everything; he’s the one who made me feel safe. And he was a friend of Granddaddy’s.”

“How do you know this?”

“Granddaddy said so, this morning.”

“He talked to you? In sentences?”

“Broken sentences, but yeah, he did. And he looked at John and saw Milton Tucker’s son.”

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