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Hawkins remained silent. Tired of playing wait-and-see, he asked the million dollar question. “When’s he getting here? The profiler.”
    “Not a he , this time, John. She. ”
    Tucker blinked, pressed the phone closer to his ear to make sure he heard correctly. “She?”
    “Stan Carlton is working a case in Miami, so you’re getting one of our newer profilers.”
    “They’re sending me a rookie? For this killer?” True, John didn’t want to deal with Stanley Carlton again, but he wanted—needed—someone who knew what they were doing. His task force still believed the FBI profiler had hit the nail on the head, even if the head Stan kept focusing on was his. Tucker hadn’t murdered anyone, but with all the reasoning Carlton provided, even John agreed he fit the bill. And if someone else in Macon also hit the mark, a profiler would help them find him before he killed again.
    “She may be younger than Carlton, but she’s no rookie. None of our profilers are rookies; you know that. At the bare minimum, they’ve had two years of agent training, additional time as a profiler coordinator in a field office, then served in the Behavior Science division at Quantico. In fact, this woman has surpassed every other profiler in the unit, based on her success rate for recovery.”
    Recovery. Such a deceptive term. It sounded as though she’d found all the victims alive. However, recovery meant the body had been found, didn’t mean it’d been breathing at the time. John almost asked for the details of her success rate, but he didn’t need to rock the boat. Yet.
    “Fine. What does she need and when will she get here?”
    “She’s on her way now.”
    “Our first meeting is scheduled for 6:00. Think she’ll make it?” John glanced at the clock on his computer.
    “I’ll give Angel a call on her cell. She’ll be there.”
    “Angel?”
    “Angel Jackson, the profiler assigned to the Sunrise Killer. She’s topnotch, Tucker. I believe she’ll help you find your man. You won’t have any problems working with Angel.” Leon didn’t have to add, “like you had with Carlton.” It was implied, and John understood.
    “As long as we find him and stop him before he kills again, I’d accept help from anyone, problems or not.”
    “Carlton was just doing his job. He was still green and jumped the gun in pinpointing a suspect. Besides, our unit only provides the profile. It’s up to the cops what they do with it. But Stan did what he thought was best, even if he was a bit overzealous.”
    “That’s one way to describe it.”
    “Angel will get the job done right. I’ll call her and make sure she knows about the meeting. She’ll let you know everything she needs from you at that time.”
    “Thanks, Leon.”
    “No problem. And keep me posted on things down there.”
    “As if you won’t know what’s happening before I do.” John hadn’t found one of the killer’s victims yet when the FBI hadn’t stomped on his heels in the pursuit, if they weren’t ahead of him forging the trail.
    “Still, keep me informed.”
    “Will do.” Tucker disconnected as a knock sounded at his door. “It’s open.”
    Lexie McCain entered, and his day brightened. In fact, his day had been a bit brighter ever since he ran into her outside the television station this morning. He noticed her cheeks flush, the same way they did earlier, and he wondered if it were due to nerves, or to him? “You got my message?”
    “I was in Paul Kingsley’s office when the two of you were talking. Guess it was no secret I wanted the story. I appreciate you asking for me.” All business-like and efficient, yet friendly and approachable, what his task force needed for their media link to the public.
    He motioned to a chair and waited while she sat down. She wore a crisp navy pantsuit and navy heels, which gave every impression of her professionalism, but the hint of satin camisole peeking above the top of her suit provided a blatant reminder that