Smoky Mountain Investigation (7 page)

Nope, better he never made the call. Besides, they had too much history and hurt between them.

Still, her sweet spirit and beauty tugged at his heart, which made being around her that much harder. He had no intention of staying in town long-term and his future plans were as unpredictable as an ice storm in July.

She deserved better. Much more than he could offer.

* * *

Later that same evening, Kylie curled beneath the down comforter in Steven’s guest room as raindrops tinked against the window and gusts of wind moaned a lazy serenade. A perfect backdrop for a good night’s sleep, had her mind not been racing, consumed by the hows and the whys of the case. A futile venture. Nonetheless, she couldn’t let go of one nagging thought: for the stalker to have a photo anthology of her the way he did, he had to live in Asheville and she obviously knew him.

Someone discreet, ordinary and inconspicuous.

Those characteristics described almost anyone in her social circle or workplace. Adding
malicious
or
dangerous
to the list didn’t cause a hint of revelation.

With a sigh, she sat up, plumped her pillow and lay back down, resting one arm behind her head. She stared into the darkness, confident of the Lord’s presence, yet fearful that at any moment her cell phone would ring and the nightmare would begin again.

Rolling to her side, she picked up her cell, which had been charging on the lamp table, and checked her phone log. No missed calls, which suited her fine. She placed it back on the table before she gave in to the temptation to switch it to vibrate and forget about Dave’s request for her to keep her phone turned on and accessible. Since this stalker seemed driven to gain her attention, everyone investigating the case expected him to call.

In truth, so did she.

Kylie yanked the blankets to her chin, warding off the chill that the thought brought. Closing her eyes, she started to pray. After endless moments, a cozy warmth wrapped around her, a welcome reprieve.

Hours later, somewhere between somnolence and slumber, a vigorous ring punctuated her foggy consciousness.

Kylie jerked up and pulled away from the warmth of her bed. Disoriented and breathing rapidly, she glanced around, clutching the thin bedsheet to her chest, wondering if she was awake or still dreaming.

The soft light of dawn streamed through the sheer window covering. She blinked and caught her breath, grappling to catch up, focus. Even as her thoughts became more lucid, all she wanted to do was sink back down and snuggle beneath the blankets.

The brisk ring came again, awakening her fully.

Her pulse sprinted. Fears came tumbling back, of death and stalkers, a perpetrator on the loose.

Was that him now?

The very thought made it hard for her to breathe. She snatched up her cell phone and checked the display.
Restricted
flashed across the screen.

Closing her eyes, she pressed the cell to her ear.
Ready.
She had to be ready. “Hello.” She cleared her voice. A prayer caught in her throat.
Lord, help me.

“Kylie. Are you up?”

With a rapid exhale, Kylie crumpled against the headboard. “Max, you scared me to death.”

A hearty chuckle. “Not quite to death.”

“Close enough. Why is your phone coming up restricted?”

“It’s my personal line at home. Sorry to call so early, but I wanted to get the lowdown on last night.”

“Last night? Didn’t you get a copy of the article I sent to the managing editor?”

“Of course. Headline news. Front and center on the morning press. But I wanted to know the behind-the-scenes story. Who do you suspect?”

Kylie rubbed at her forehead, the evident birth of a major headache. “No one.”

“Come on. You have to suspect someone. Ten years’ worth of pictures?”

“And every published article I’ve written.”

“Creepy.”

“Very much so.”

A pause. Max at a loss for words? Impossible.

Finally “And you suspect no one?”

Kylie sighed, rubbing her head harder. “Nada.”

“Well, then, kiddo, dig deep and think about it. Keep me posted when you hear from that psychopath again.”

She shuddered. “Maybe he won’t call again. Maybe he’s had enough fun for another ten years?”

“You want this monster on the loose for another ten years?”

She didn’t want him loose for another ten seconds. “Of course not.”

“The cops installed a tracking device on your phone, didn’t they?”

“They did.”

“Then let’s pray he calls.”

“Sure, Max.”

Max hung up and Kylie tapped the cell phone against her chin. He was right, of course, but that didn’t make waiting for a crazy man’s call any easier.

She slipped back under her blankets, snuggled into a comfortable position and had just closed her eyes when a thumping noise caught her attention. Her heart stalled and her eyes popped open. She waited, completely frozen, as she listened.

A distant deep, gravelly voice rumbled from somewhere in the house. Shooting up in bed, she squinted at the digital display on her cell phone. Five forty-five. Would Nick be up this early? And talking on the phone to someone? Stiffening, she strained her ears to detect any movements over the moan of the gusty wind outside the window. For seconds nothing, then soft clumps and a thud sounded.

She remembered Nick saying he’d see her at seven. Schooling herself to stay calm, she switched on the bedside lamp. The bulb flickered on, chasing shadows into the far corners of the room. She breathed easier.

Silence lingered for another ten seconds, then floorboards creaked, sending her stomach plunging. Her calm evaporated. As she cocked her head, her ears picked up a raspy mumble. Definitely a voice. Someone was in the house.

Icy fingers stroked along her spine, setting off an epidemic of goose bumps.

As she rubbed at the raised patches on her arms, wind gusts rattled the outside shutters. Fear dissolved into relief. It must have only been the wind.

But when something hard struck the floor, she kicked back her covers and clambered to her feet, her phone dropping to the floor.

Grabbing her robe from the back of a chair, she quickly pulled it on. Her eyes went to the door. Darkness seeped through the cracks around the edges of the jamb. If Nick was out there, wouldn’t he turn on the lights?

Another bump startled her into action. She started to call out to him and then clamped a hand over her lips. What if it wasn’t Nick?

Nerves on alert, she rushed to the door. She slipped her fingers over the knob, ready to punch in the lock. Firm footsteps hit the rustic hardwood in the hallway and she retracted her hand. The steady booted clip sent a shudder of fear ripping through her.

Frozen in place, she counted the long seconds until the plodding steps halted, right outside her bedroom door.

Fighting down the shriek that had risen in her throat, she tried for the doorknob again and her fingers fumbled at the first attempt. Then taking a deep breath, she managed to lock it.

Relief trickled through her.

Now she needed her phone, needed to text Nick, that is, if she could only get her legs to move and stop trembling.

The air around her went still and the footsteps started again.

She released a breath and strained to listen.

Hinges creaked. A door banged.

Shivering, she pivoted around and sagged against the closed door, working to breathe. Working to think.

A shadowed movement caught her eye outside the window. Wind howled, leaves rustled, a tree branch crackled, tediously tapping against the glass pane.

The gusty breeze.
She held her breath, hoping that was all.

Seconds passed. A dark silhouette of a man emerged, hurrying by the window.

Her mouth dropped open, but she quickly recovered, avoiding a gasp. Pushing fear aside, she scooted across the room to the window and tugged back a corner of the curtain. She peered intently through the pane, lifting her gaze above the top of the bushes. No one was there. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

Just when she was convinced she was going crazy, a car spun past the house, red taillights burning through the morning fog. She dropped to the floor and scrambled on her knees to her cell phone.

Confusion merged with the anxiety twisting away at her insides. What was going on? Was she now alone? Or would someone at any moment knock down the door and find her?

Staying silent, she frantically scrolled through her contacts and typed Nick a message—
HELP!

SIX

F
acing the mirror in the bathroom, Nick stopped shaving his morning stubble when a text alert sounded on his cell.

Only a few people had his number. And that scared him.

Fumbling with the razor in his hand, he lost his grip, sending it clanking against the porcelain sink, but not before the sharp edge of the blade nicked him.

With the back of his hand, he swiped a dribble of blood from his chin and then lifted his phone off the sink basin. His heart tripped as he glared at the one-word text from Kylie.

HELP!

Snatching his keys, he wrestled on a pair of jogging pants and T-shirt as he made his way out of the small apartment. Taking two steps at a time, he bounded down a short flight of steps and crossed the driveway into the neighboring yard. He plunged his key into the lock of the side-porch door. A moment later, he was in the kitchen. Silence greeted him.

Stay calm.
He held his tongue. Didn’t call out.

Senses on alert, Nick moved from one room to the next, his heart beating wildly despite his best efforts to stay rational. His combat-mission training had taught him to focus, carefully process the situation and then act.

No emotion involved. Something he’d perfected—until today.

A chill lingered in the air and the house was quiet. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, except the closed door to Kylie’s room.

He posed a hard-knuckled knock against the wood. “Kylie, are you okay?”

A sigh or a whimper. He couldn’t be sure.

Gripping the handle, he firmly leaned a shoulder against the door, ready to break it down if necessary. “Kylie,” he called out again.

“Nick!” Kylie’s panicked voice answered him.

The knob rattled a second before the door whipped open. He gripped the doorframe and righted his stance to keep from toppling onto her.

“There was someone in the house. He was in the hall, right outside my door,” she rasped out.

Questions and urgency flooded Nick’s thoughts.

Kylie eased toward him, trembling. Shock and fear tightened her features. She didn’t look capable of staying on her feet, much less supplying him with the answers he needed.

“Let’s get you to a chair and then you can tell me everything.” He draped an arm around her, steadying her.

Her slender frame compressed against him and wisps of her silky hair tickled his cheek. He tried to ignore the awareness it brought. Instinctively, he pulled her closer and guided her down the wood-floored hall until they emerged into the kitchen. He settled her into a chair and flipped on the light.

Kylie’s chest heaved with audible breaths. She expelled a raspy sigh, her trembling fingers clutching her cell phone.

He hunkered down in front of her and gave her a moment to recover.

“It’s okay.” He spoke softly, brushing errant locks from her face. And as he peered at her, the temptation to pull her close and comfort her burned deep inside him. Inhaling slowly, he bridled the emotion.

“It had to be him,” she muttered after a moment.

“Who are we talking about, Kylie?”

“The perpetrator. The killer. The stalker. Whoever he is.”

“Did you see someone?”

She shook her head. “No, but I heard him. He walked past my room. Then he went outside, I think through the front door.” She put a hand on Nick’s arm; her eyes widened. “And there was a crash. Something heavy fell on the floor.”

“Heavy? Like a pan or glass?”

She wagged her head. “Something solid. Maybe a gun or flashlight.”

That thought brought Nick to his feet. “Wait here.” He walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. He scanned the area and then went from there to each of the other rooms in the house, looking for any signs of an intruder. As before, nothing was out of place. The front and back doors remained locked, as were the windows.

Paranoia and fear, he hoped, were the culprits.

Breathing easier, Nick circled back to the kitchen. “Everything looks okay. The windows and doors are secure.”

Kylie’s head shot up. “Then how would someone get in?”

“Well, maybe what you heard wasn’t
someone.
There are all sorts of creaks and noises in this old house.”

“No, I heard footsteps, a man’s voice.”

“The wind, blowing trees, even distant traffic can sound distorted.”

“But he ran past my window. And I saw his car—”

Nick cut her off. “You saw a man?”

Kylie’s heart was sinking fast. “Well, actually, more like a shadow.”

“And a car? What kind?”

“I don’t know.” She gave a quick shrug. “Just a car. It was racing down the street....” Her words trailed off.

Silence fell between them, along with a sudden chill that crept into her bones. Now she wasn’t sure about anything.

Kylie stared at him for a moment. Then with a sigh, she dragged her fingers through her tousled curls. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

Nick shook his head. “No, I think you’re scared. You have every right to be. I’m not discounting what you heard. You may be right, someone may have been inside the house. Although I hope not.”

Kylie got to her feet, swallowed visibly. “I hope not, too.”

Right then, Nick’s heart shattered along with the protective wall he’d erected between them. He gathered her in his arms, held her tight. She needed his comfort, and like it or not, he needed hers.

* * *

The tension between Kylie’s shoulders slowly abated. She leaned deep into Nick’s embrace, savoring his tender touch. Instead of fear, warmth and safety trickled through her. She felt safe in his arms. Dangerous. He’d broken her heart once. She needed to remember that, keep her thoughts in perspective. But for now, that worry would have to wait.