In the Flesh. Rita Herron

mother lay propped against the bed pillows, her now-graying brown hair tangled, her mouth drooping slightly to the left as she stared into space.

      “I’ll just put these in fresh water,” Jenny said. “Then we’ll get you a bath and I’ll brush your hair before we have breakfast.”

      Her mother said nothing, but Jenny tacked a smile on her face, put the flowers in water, then placed them on the small table across from her mother so she could see them.

      “Which gown would you like to wear today?” She plucked a lavender one from the drawer, along with its matching bed jacket. “How about this one? Lavender looks so pretty on you, Mom. Remember that lavender dress you wore to church on Easter when I was ten?” She filled the basin with water, poured in scented bath gel and gave her mother a sponge bath. Her mother made a soft whispery sound as if she enjoyed the process. “What is it, Mom? You want to talk to me. I know you do.”

      Then the second passed, and that empty gray look returned to her eyes. Jenny willed the lump in her throat to dissipate, and turned away to gather her composure. She emptied the bathwater, then returned with the brush, sat down beside her mother and began to slowly work the tangles from her hair. Her mother sighed contentedly. Twice during this ritual she’d reached out and touched Jenny’s hand and squeezed it.

      At that moment she’d known her mother was still inside the shell of her body. That she wanted to talk but something was holding her back.

      Jenny had become a doctor to find the answer.

      Unfortunately, her education and experience had yet to yield results. The very reason she’d moved her mother to CIRP. Hopefully, the psychiatrists at the center would find a treatment for her that would prove successful.

      Dr. Zovall hadn’t been happy about the move. He’d been treating her mother for years, and had been a friend to her parents before the breakdown. A bigger friend since. He mourned her mother’s loss almost as much as Jenny and her brother, Bailey, did.

      Yet he hadn’t been able to help her….

      She counted the strokes as she glided the brush through her mother’s hair, a hundred strokes just as her mother used to do for her when she was little, sweeping her hair down over her shoulders until it lay in soft folds. “There, you look lovely now, Mom.”

      She helped her mother settle back, inserted a jazz CD in the portable player, then set out their breakfast. Coffee for her, juice for her mother. Her mother nibbled at the food with no reaction, but ate the cinnamon roll and even licked her fingers when she finished. Jenny chatted about her week, telling her about the small house she’d bought in downtown Savannah, about the renovations, all mundane details, but if her mother could hear, she wanted to include her in her life.

      Her cell phone vibrated against her belt, and she frowned and checked the number. The hospital. Darn it, there must be an emergency.

      “Mom, I have to take this,” Jenny said, then she kissed her cheek and stepped into the hallway.

      “Dr. Madden, this is the emergency service. Captain Black with the Savannah Police Department needs to speak with you as soon as possible.”

      Jenny clenched the phone with sweaty fingers. Was one of her patients in trouble? Had one of them been hurt or committed a crime? “Did he say what it was about?”

      “No, he just said he needed to talk to you, today if possible.”

      “I’ll give him a call right now.”

      She hung up, then phoned the police precinct. Seconds later, they patched her through to his cell phone. “This is Dr. Madden. How can I help you, Captain Black?”

      “We found a murdered girl this morning, same MO as the two other strangled victims.”

      “You think it’s a serial killer?” Jenny asked.

      “Yes. And you come highly recommended.”

      “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

      “Can you meet me at the crime scene?”

      “Sure. Let me have the address.” He gave it to her, and she ducked in and said goodbye to her mother. “I’ll try to stop back this week, Mom. I love you.” She squeezed her hands and hoped for a response, but her mother closed her eyes as if exhausted and drifted to sleep. Jenny left, her heart in her throat.

      She had attended a few crime scenes for consultant work, but it was not her favorite part of the job. Shadows from the live oaks flickered along the road as she drove to the wooded area and parked along the side of the road by the police vehicles. She took one look at her clothes and wished she’d gone home to change. The loose skirt and sandals weren’t exactly conducive to hiking. Yet she hadn’t wanted to make the police wait, not when the captain seemed eager for her assistance, when he was obviously frustrated over losing another girl.

      Had the captain called her because he wanted her help in putting together a profile, or did he have a suspect?

      And why her specifically? Did he have reason to believe that one of her patients might be the killer?

      R AUL SAW the baby-blue Beetle convertible swing in beside the squad car and grimaced from his post at the edge of the woods. Had to be Jenny Madden— Dr. Jenny Madden.

      He’d half expected her to be driving a Porsche or Beamer, but the tiny convertible suited his image of her, as well. A girly-girl car.

      She was probably rich, prissy, earned ten times his yearly salary and thought she knew it all.

      He hoped to hell she didn’t puke when she saw the body. Already the flies and bugs had feasted, and the stench had gotten bad. At least CSI was almost finished, so if she lost it, she wouldn’t contaminate evidence.

      Before she cut the engine, she dragged a brush through her hair. Concerned about her looks at a crime scene—not a good sign.

      He tried not to notice the long silky-looking blond strands but couldn’t help himself as she pulled them back into a ponytail at the base of her neck. Then she climbed out and his gut clenched at the sight of that body. High full breasts tapered to a slender waist. She wore a dark-blue tank top that clung to her figure in the cloying summer heat, and a loose white skirt that swirled around her slender ankles, leading his eyes down to her sandaled feet and toenails painted a hot red.

      Damn. He liked red toenails.

      He dragged his gaze back up to her face, searching for the flaw. Unfortunately, he didn’t see one on the surface. Soft features shaped a dainty nose and high sculpted cheekbones, and her lips were pouty and pink, natural, no lipstick.

      She would have to be a knockout. Long blond hair and longer legs that could grip a man and make him crazy. Yep, the devil always came disguised in pretty packages.

      Not that he would let her model looks distract him from the job or make him forget what she was. A shrink.

      An interference in the case.

      He didn’t know why Black had insisted on calling her out here. A short but sweet meeting at the precinct would have sufficed. And worse, the captain had ordered him to babysit her to the scene.

      She started toward the woods, and he cleared his throat. “You can’t go that way. This is a crime scene.”

      She startled and almost lost her footing, and he cursed the fact that she didn’t have enough sense to dress appropriately for the woods.

      “I didn’t see you skulking in the shadows,” she said, jutting up her chin.

      He almost laughed. He’d expected a sweet voice to go with that body. Instead, it was husky, and her glare so sharp that it cut to the bone. “Are you Dr. Madden?”

      She nodded. “Captain Black requested I come.”

      He gave a clipped nod, biting back the fact that he disagreed with his superior. The last thing he wanted was to get pulled from the investigation because