Smoky Mountain Investigation (8 page)

She glanced up at him, conscious of his attentive gaze, soulful brown eyes blazing with concern. A hint of a grimace stretched across his jaw. She blinked, noticing for the first time the bloody gash on his chin.

She broke loose from his grip. “Nick, you’re bleeding.”

He ran a finger across his half-stubbled chin. “I guess the razor got the best of me this morning.”

“More likely my text got the best of you. I feel terrible.” Kylie turned and hurried to the cabinet. From a small basket near the sink, she grabbed a napkin, feeling foolish for overreacting. She turned back.

“No worries. I’m fine, really.” Nick’s voice trailed off as he cast a curious glance at something on the floor. Crouching, he reached under the table and palmed something in his hand.

“What is it?”

“Probably nothing.” Nick stood upright and between his fingers he clutched a sheet of paper folded into a small rectangle. He opened it and started to read the note.

Seconds ticked by and the weight of concern strangling her chest pulled even tighter when the muscles in Nick’s jaw visibly tightened. Her breath caught.

“Nick?”

He glanced up, a dire expression on his face. “I don’t like this.”

Struggling to control her rising fear, Kylie sidled up beside him and stared at the words. One scribbled sentence:
Never more than a heartbeat away.

Her heart stopped.

* * *

At Steven’s kitchen table, Kylie sat bundled in her bathrobe, cupping a mug in her hands. Barely eight in the morning and her day had escalated from rocky to rotten.

“Okay, Kylie. Let’s get back to the make and color of the car you saw speeding by the house this morning.”

Before she could explain to Dave for the umpteenth time that the fog and gray skies made identifying the car impossible, the front door swung open and another uniformed officer walked into the house. He joined the others already combing through the rooms, taking down notes and dusting for fingerprints.

A pointless venture. Kylie sighed. Nick’s words from the day before resonated in her head.
This guy isn’t going to be careless.

Whoever this madman was, he’d planted the note. Along with the pictures and the body at the airport. He wanted them found. Wanted her scared.

She shivered with a sigh.

Accolades to him. He had succeeded in doing just that.

“Kylie.” Dave pulled out a chair and sat beside her. “Do you have any idea of who this guy might be?”

“Believe me, Dave, I’ve racked my brain over and over again. Unfortunately, I keep coming up with the same thing.”

He quirked a brow.

“Nothing.”

His thick, bushy brows dropped flat like a slash over his eyes. “Okay, then make me a list of old boyfriends. Long relationships, short, it doesn’t matter.”

That was an easy assignment. Kylie gestured with her cup toward Nick. “There you go.”

Nick straightened from his slouch at the counter, his brows lifted. “I’m not sure how to take that. Was I that bad of a boyfriend that you were afraid to try again, or have I just been too hard to replace?” A chuckle underscored his words and Kylie wasn’t about to go there.

At least not today.

She set her cup down with a clink and shrugged. “College kept me busy. And now, between work and church activities, I don’t have time for a relationship.”

Kylie fought not to cringe. That sounded lame even to her own ears.

“Right,” Dave grunted. He eyed her for a split second, then tossed a notepad and pen on the table. “Make me a list of the men that have showed some interest in you. Maybe you brushed one of them off, offended them somehow. Consider your circle of friends, neighbors, online buddies, even coworkers.”

“Men that I’ve known for the last ten years?”

“Time frame doesn’t matter. Criminals like this can be resourceful when something intrigues them.”

Kylie brushed hair from her face. “You’re asking me to remember everyone who ever made a pass at me?” As a journalist, she had met and mingled with men in all lines of work all over the area. Flirting wasn’t unusual, nor was an invitation to meet them for dinner or a drink. “No, thanks” was her common reply. She never mixed business with pleasure.

Nick whistled softly between his teeth. “Must be a bunch.” He leaned a shoulder against the side of the kitchen cupboards and crossed his arms.

The smirk on his face brought a warm flush to her cheeks. This man was too cute for his own good—and hers. She took the last swig of cold tea, hoping he couldn’t read her mind or her heart.

She needed to get a grip, plain and simple. But having Nick around triggered a host of emotions. At the moment those feelings overrode logic.

“Do your best, Kylie. We have to start somewhere.” Dave gave the table a firm slap before he pushed back his chair and stood.

“I’ll try, Dave. Thanks for all your—”

The brisk ring of a cell phone stopped Kylie midsentence. Her heart lurched. Irrational fear coursed through every vessel.

Dave retrieved his phone from his belt clip and pressed it to his ear. “Detective Dave Michelson here.”

A short conversation ensued, the gist of which eluded Kylie.

“Thanks, I appreciate the information.” Dave snapped his phone off. A frown drifted across his features.

“That was Tom Walden at the coroner’s office. Preliminary autopsy reports are in on the first victim.”

“And what did they find?” Kylie straightened.

Dave shifted his weight and slid his cell into his phone holster. “It seems that on the night of Tucker’s murder, he was quite intoxicated. In fact, his blood-alcohol level was five times the legal limit.”

“Five times?” Kylie echoed. “How would he even function?”

“Good question,” Nick piped up. “In fact, he probably couldn’t. He may not have even been conscious when he was killed. Isn’t that correct, Detective?”

Dave tilted his head, gave a shrug. “That’s possible.”

“An easy target.” Nick shook his head. “This kind of creep preys on the helpless.”

“Helpless? I hope that’s not what he thinks I am,” Kylie muttered, more to herself than to anyone else, trying to make sense of it all.

A grimace took hold of Nick’s lips. “No. It’s more personal than that. You’ve somehow captured his attention.”

“Wonderful.” She sighed.

She’d only ever wanted one man’s attention. And right now his dark liquid eyes held hers. A prickly heat rose up her neck. Shaking it off, she smoothed her robe, inhaling deeply.

Kylie was beginning to wonder what scared her more: a psychopathic stalker or the allure of Nick Bentley.

At the moment her heart banked on the latter.

Blowing out a long breath, Kylie worked to sweep lingering regrets and sorrow aside.

Picking up the pen Dave gave her, she jotted some notes on the pad. If nothing else, Max would expect an article from her for the evening edition. No better time to start than the present.

Then she remembered something. She stopped writing, looked up and caught Dave’s gaze. “What came up on the phone tracer from yesterday’s call?”

“A pay phone on Aberdene Street. Officers scoured the area, interviewed the locals, but found nothing.”

“Pay phone? But the number came up restricted, like a cell—”

Swiftly, Dave cut her off. “Pay phones show up that way. The phone company wants calls going out, not coming in.”

Disappointment pulsed in her veins. “The guy’s pretty smart.”

Dave shrugged. “We knew it was a long shot. But we’ll keep the wire on. Anyway, think about what we talked about and let me know when you come up with some names.”

She nodded as he pulled his radio from his belt and headed out the door.

“So, a whole slew of love interests, but no serious boyfriends since we broke up?” Nick settled in the seat beside her, giving her a dubious look.

Hesitating, Kylie stared into the masculine face she remembered so well. His strong jawline and the hint of the smile stretched across it brought her back.

Once she’d known him better than anyone. Now he was as mysterious as any first date. And answering a question like that, well...talk about social suicide. The truth seemed too simple. Too lonely.

Especially compared to his lively career. A Special Forces soldier. Strong. Gorgeous. Women everywhere probably flocked to him.

Kylie picked up her cup, curling her hand around it. What was the point of trying to fluff up her love life? She had no reason to compete. She caught his eye, feigning nonchalance. “Nope, no serious boyfriends since we broke up.”

Nick narrowed his gaze slightly. “I hope it wasn’t because of me. I know I left you hanging.”

Kylie held up a hand, halting the direction the conversation was heading and protecting her heart at the same time.

“Nick, we were kids. No guilt, okay?”

“Well, I should have handled things differently and I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice, regret in his tone.

Her heart squeezed, but she managed a smile. “Me, too.”

SEVEN

T
he next day, Nick inhaled a long breath and rang up the last few items for the customer in line, thankful that the morning rush at the store was letting up.

“Thank you, ma’am. Have a good day.” He manufactured a smile and handed the patron her two bags.

The older woman nodded and made her way to the exit.

Nick eased back against the counter and glanced around, eyeballing the few milling customers that were left. No one seemed to need his attention.

Good. He needed a little reprieve.

Even when he’d worked at the store with his father as a kid, he’d dreaded his time at the register. Not that he preferred to be lazing around. Give him an ax and some logs and he’d chop and stack wood all day. Unlike Steven, who was into the business end of things, which had worked out pretty well for his family.

Nick crossed his arms and let go of a breath, air whistling through his teeth.

He’d always felt claustrophobic being cooped up in the store. A phenomenon his parents hadn’t given much credence to.

But here he was ten years later and that claustrophobic feeling was back; the room was closing in on him while fresh air was being sucked out. He gulped a breath. He was ready to be out of this place.

With the turmoil about Kylie clogging every brain cell, the sooner he got out of there, the better.

He glanced at his watch. Almost noon. He’d called Roger, one of the salesclerks, to come in early. Hopefully, he’d remembered.

Even before Nick completely finished the thought, the bell on the front door jangled and Roger walked in.

Just in time. Standing upright, Nick untied his shop apron and tossed it under the register. He worked his way around the counter, giving the employee a firm pat on the shoulder as he made his way to the exit. “Thanks, Roger. There will be a bonus in your paycheck for this.”

“Hey, no problem. And thanks for the extra bucks.” The clatter of the bell punctuated Roger’s words as Nick walked out the century-old door.

He couldn’t pay Roger enough.

Thankfully, his brother didn’t mind him taking some time to be with Kylie. He seemed rather intrigued, in fact. Steven was probably surmising that something might rekindle between them. But after all this time, that wasn’t going to happen.

Sorrow settled in Nick’s chest. Bad memories died hard, and so did regret.

In the few days since he’d arrived, every recollection he wanted to erase from his life had seemed to slap him in the face. Conrad’s death still pricked at his heart like a rusty nail. And now Kylie reignited memories that he’d carefully kept hidden.

If that wasn’t enough, Kylie was in danger. Anger welled up in his chest at the thought. He hated to even consider how much torment the stalker had planned before he physically harmed her.

Something Nick wasn’t going to let happen.

That notion started out as a plan and quickly bumped up to determination, giving him an adrenaline rush. Picking up his stride, he wove his way through the tightly packed parking area until he spotted his brother’s motorcycle.

He stood there a moment and scratched his chin.

The back tire was low. He’d probably hit a rock or nail on that rough road to Jake Plyler’s Barn. He made a mental note to stop by the gas station and have it checked out. One more thing on his overflowing list of things he had to get done today.

Lunch first, he reminded himself as he fished keys from his front pocket.

Nick swung onto the seat and started the cycle. Forty minutes later, he pulled into a parking spot at the
Asheville Daily News.
He’d promised Kylie he’d be there by one. He checked his watch—right on time. He secured his helmet on the back of the seat and pulled a bag and two canned drinks from the side pouch. Not an easy feat, stopping to pick up lunch and getting it to the destination uncrushed. Steven obviously hadn’t thought out that scenario when he purchased a motorcycle as his primary mode of transportation. Then again, bicycle riding hadn’t proved any better.

Nick smiled at the thought of his brother holed up in the hospital with one leg in traction. A motorcycle spill could have been lethal. He’d have to remind his brother of that. A Hummer or a tank might prove to be a safer bet.

As Nick neared Kylie’s desk, she looked up.

“Lunch.” He lifted a crinkled bag.

“Great. Do you mind if we eat inside? I’m waiting on my edits.”

“Sure.”

Grabbing a spare chair, he pulled it beside hers. He waited as she cleared a spot on her desk and spread a page from the newspaper on top.

“Recycled, but clean.” She inclined her head and smiled.

An impromptu picnic. Ah, so Kylie. He settled in the chair and handed her a soda.

She popped the lid. “Smells good. Kind of rich and tangy. What did you bring?”

Nick opened the bag. He glanced in and shook his head. “It started as barbecued grilled-chicken sandwiches and chips. Now I believe we have chicken flatbread and potato crumbs.”

“Umm. Sounds good.” She laughed.

“Still game for an adventure, I see.” He removed her lunch from the bag and handed it to her.