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
Facing 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.
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.”
Mountain Pursuit: Smoky Mountain Investigation ; Mountain Rescue Page 6
