Setting the empty folder aside, Nick started collecting the documents on the floor.
Kylie gasped and her body went rigid when she realized she was looking at articles she’d written, along with four-by-eight black-and-white prints—of her.
FIVE
Back at the precinct, Nick and Kylie were holed up in the same stuffy room as before, insulated from the rumbling environment outside the door and the local media hounds. Nick sifted through an assortment of photos and clipped newspaper articles. A visual display of Kylie’s life over the past ten years.
In one picture, he recognized Kylie’s parents and sister, huddled around her at her college graduation. Another caught Kylie handing out drinks at some sort of church event. Other random shots showed her mingling with friends in various settings, some dating back to their high-school years and all taken in public places.
The guy had quite a collection. Nick shook his head and tossed the prints onto the table, the pile beneath it steadily growing. He grabbed the last few from the folder. And as he shuffled through them, surprise kicked his pulse up. One of the pictures was of him and Kylie at their senior prom.
Nick glanced over at Kylie sitting beside him, grateful to find her propped back in her chair reading through the preliminary police report. He doubted she was up for reminiscing.
He added the rest of the photos to the stack, save one. Sitting back, he indulged himself in a second look at the senior picture.
It was a typical scripted pose, his arm around Kylie’s waist, holding her close, their smiles beaming for the camera. She’d looked beautiful that night in her black evening gown. He’d bought her a yellow rose corsage, and she’d given him a matching boutonniere. He’d borrowed his parents’ old Cadillac and they ate dinner at Spencer’s Steak House, the nicest restaurant in town.
He smiled nostalgically, remembering their first dance. The salsa. A far cry from the country swing they had practiced. He never could figure our who was leading whom. In truth, they’d both worked hard trying to keep from tripping the other.
They’d laughed about it later. He’d promised Kylie that after graduation he’d take ballroom-dance lessons with her.
A bitter sigh caught in his throat. Another promise he hadn’t kept.
Nick swallowed twice, dismissing the regret.
Sending Kylie a sidelong glance, he noted how she still looked as youthful as the girl in the picture. And just as beautiful.
His chest once again felt tight. He needed to keep his head on straight. So what if he found Kylie Harper appealing? Aside from that, they were just friends. And that was all they would ever be.
Pages ruffled and Kylie dropped the report on the table. “All this paperwork and we still don’t have a clue on who this predator might be.”
Nick blinked, reasserting mental control. He straightened in his seat. “Evidence is building. We’re making progress.”
Discreetly, he gathered the photos and stuffed them back into the folder.
“I hope so. I’m not really cut out for this.” Kylie picked up her coffee and took a drink.
“I don’t know about that. You were pretty brave out there today.” Nick gave a small chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. But he couldn’t discount the fact that this stalker was no regular predator. He knew too much about Conrad’s murder. He had to have been a member of their high-school class. And whoever he was, he’d been harboring ten years of pent-up obsession for Kylie and now he was on the prowl. Couple that with a delusional and brilliant mind and the cops had their job cut out for them.
Kylie slanted him a glance, her lips slightly curved. “Brave? I was shaking in my boots the whole time.”
“Fear is a perfectly normal reaction to have in this situation. Pushing past those fears to get a job done makes you...brave.” He smiled at her.
She returned it. “Then you were brave. I was tagging along.”
Not true, but he wouldn’t argue.
“I just keep wondering how I could have missed someone stalking me.” Kylie set her cup on the table, the coffee almost spilling.
“Psychopaths like this guy can be elusive. It’s part of the game, Kylie. Part of the sickness.” Nick reached over to capture her hand and steady her cup, steady her.
“What kind of creep collects ten years’ worth of pictures, plus every published article I’ve written, and doesn’t make himself known?” Kylie’s voice drifted off, as if she were trying to make sense of it all. She pulled her hand away, and the warmth inside him took on a chill as she thumped back in the chair and crossed her arms.
Nick gave a slight shrug. “Someone obsessed, that’s who. It doesn’t have to make sense when someone is crazy.”
She shook her head, her gaze never leaving his face. “Well, it doesn’t make sense. An average girl. A small-town reporter. Hardly a person of celebrity status.”
“First of all, Miss Harper.” He leaned in closer, lifted a brow. “You are far from average. Always have been.”
“Really?”
Her amused laugh pricked his heart. For the better part of his teenage years he’d been in love with this woman. Beyond her gentle beauty, she was curious and funny. And the simple moments they’d spent together still warmed him to the core. Impromptu picnics along the parkway, long walks, hiking, even playing board games on a cold winter’s day.
He breathed deeply and smiled. “Yes, Kylie Harper. You are far from average.”
“That’s sweet of you to say.” She picked up her cup and took another sip of coffee.
“I’m serious. I’ve never met anyone else like you.”
Kylie lowered her cup, all the humor erased from her expression. “Then why did you leave, Nick? And forget all about me?”
“I...” Straightening, Nick stammered. He hadn’t been prepared for that.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair—” Kylie’s voice broke.
The slash in Nick’s heart widened. Only a wimp would abandon a woman like this. He’d managed to accomplish the one thing he’d promised he’d never do—hurt Kylie Harper. And apparently he was still doing so.
He shook his head. “No, you asked a perfectly good question. One I’ve asked myself dozens of times over the years. Honestly, Kylie, I could never forget you. And although guilt and anger played a heavy part in my decision to leave, it was time for me to move on. Still, I should have discussed it with you. I shouldn’t have turned my back on you like I did.”
“Don’t.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Please, no explanation. We had already broken up. You owed me nothing.”
How wrong she was. Nick wasn’t about to leave that misconception hanging. “Kylie—” He looked into her eyes, but her gaze swung beyond his shoulder toward the glass door behind him as it squeaked open.
“Have you found anything interesting?” Kylie’s eyebrows lifted and her hopeful tone bumped up a notch.
“Not yet.” Dave shuffled into the room. He removed the stack of files from a chair and dropped into it. “We’re still waiting to hear back from the lab. They’re looking over the evidence gathered at the scene. We should have a report by morning.”
“What is the probability of a fingerprint match?” Kylie divided her hopeful glance between Nick and Dave.
“Slim.” Dave beat Nick to the punch.
“Sorry, Kylie.” Nick folded his arms across his chest before he gave in to the urge to reach over to comfort her again. He’d roused enough old feelings...for both of them. “The box was obviously planted for us to find. This guy isn’t going to be careless.”
“That’s right.” Dave grunted in agreement.
“And what about suspects?” Nick met Dave’s weary gaze.
“At the moment, everyone in our graduating class is on our list.”
Nick nodded. “Good, I was hoping you’d start there.”
Kylie knea
ded her hand across her forehead, pushing it back into her hair. “I don’t know what to do. Leave town. Get a hotel room.”
A problem Nick could help her with. “My brother’s house. Remember? His guest room awaits. I’m next door in the apartment above the store.”
“Then again—” Kylie tipped her head and he could just about see the wheels turning. “It doesn’t seem very logical that the killer would come anywhere near my house. He knows the police are anticipating his next move. I’m sure I’ll be safe.”
Denial or stubbornness? Nick bet on the latter. That hadn’t changed. Nick took a deep breath. “We’re not talking about someone with a rational mind. You shouldn’t be taking chances.”
“But—”
“It wouldn’t hurt to be cautious,” Dave ground out.
Kylie’s eyes skittered back to Dave. “Can’t you have an officer patrol my street?”
A frown puckered Dave’s brow as he stared back at her, a heavy silence weighting the air around them. “Not often enough to guarantee your safety. Besides, you’re pretty isolated where you live.”
Kylie pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “Well, then, I guess I don’t have much choice.” She pulled her handbag from the back of the chair. “Nick, if you don’t mind accompanying me to my house to pick up a few things, I’ll take you up on your offer. That is, if you’re sure.”
“Absolutely.” Nick wanted to say more. Something to make her more comfortable about the new living arrangements. He knew what she was thinking: being thrown together was going to be awkward for both of them.
Nothing encouraging came to mind. Still, he was glad she hadn’t resisted staying so close to him. It made keeping up with her easier. Whether Nick liked it or not, he was knee-deep in this mess with her, and he vowed to be her shadow.
“I guess we should get going.” Kylie stepped toward the door, her words pulling him out of his meandering thoughts.
Nick got to his feet and headed out behind her. After three tours in the Middle East, he understood fear. At times it even consumed him, gripping him to the bone. But now, with a madman after Kylie, fear took on a whole new meaning.
* * *
Nick led Kylie in through the side door of his brother’s older clapboard bungalow. There was a small table and chairs in a kitchen and the faint smell of rotting fruit hung in the air.
“Sorry.” He set her suitcase by the door and turned on the overhead fan. “I stopped by earlier and realized that food needed to be thrown away.” Thankfully, they’d stopped for takeout on the way.
“Not a problem.” Kylie smiled weakly and sank onto one of the chairs. A lock of rain-drizzled hair dangled across her cheek and her eyes looked weary.
Nick dropped the bag of burgers on the table. He flexed his fingers and prayed she’d brush the wisp aside before he gave in to his urge and did it himself. Keep your head straight, he ordered himself, then breathed relief when Kylie looped the stray curl behind her ear.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Nick wrestled off his jacket and hung it on the hook by the door.
“No, thanks. This water is fine.” She sipped from the straw in her paper cup.
Nick tore open the bag and pulled out the contents. He held up three burgers and a large pack of fries. “A feast meant for a king...and queen.” He grinned.
She chuckled and took one of the burgers. “Thanks.”
Kylie bowed her head in a moment of silence. “Lord, bless this food to our body. In Your blessed name, Amen.”
“And watch over Kylie and keep her safe,” Nick added. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said a prayer. But if ever there was a need, this was the time.
Eyes as green as precious emeralds met his, bumping his pulse up a notch. “Thank you, Nick.”
“You’re welcome.” Nick dropped his gaze and bit into a fry. “Just wanted to add my two cents, in case He was listening.”
“Well, He’s always listening. But I’m not thanking you just for the prayer. I’d like to thank you for everything. You know you don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” He wiped French-fry salt off his fingers.
A gentle smile lifted the corner of her lips. “Get involved in this mayhem.”
“Too late.” He grinned. “Besides, that’s what friends are for.” The moment the word friend popped out, Nick wished it back. Even after all this time, friend didn’t seem appropriate. And by the grimace on Kylie’s face, she agreed.
“If this guy happens to be Conrad’s killer, I want to be in the mix and help bring that creep down,” he amended. On the tail end of that thought he added, “And of course, help ensure your safety.”
Nick clamped his mouth shut. He was beginning to sound like some wannabe superhero instead of Kylie’s old boyfriend who cared about her safety.
After a moment, her expression relaxed and she nodded. “Thank you, it is good to have friends.”
And a fine friend he’d been. He’d been out of her life for years. Plenty of times he’d almost caved in and contacted her. Fortunately, logic had overridden impulse. The top secret missions and foreign-defense operations kept him out of touch for months on end. And there was no guarantee where he’d end up next.
Even if they had rekindled their relationship, he couldn’t have expected her to put her life on hold, only to worry about where he was or what he was involved in. Or worse, wonder if he would make it home.
Too many of his comrades didn’t return, and out of those who did, many ended up divorced. A lose-lose situation, he’d decided.
He took a swig of his drink to cover his sigh.
Besides, he would never have gotten Kylie out of Asheville. And the thought of coming back to make a home and a life here had made his skin crawl.
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 a
nd 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?”
Mountain Pursuit: Smoky Mountain Investigation ; Mountain Rescue Page 5
