Mountain Pursuit: Smoky Mountain Investigation ; Mountain Rescue

by Annslee Urban

  “Kylie, what can I do to help you?”

  “Nothing. Just sit there. You’ve helped me so much, this is the least I can do.”

  He did as she asked, enjoying the view, probably a little more than he should. Although he hadn’t been much help yet. There was still a crazy man on the loose. An issue he planned to rectify soon.

  Short minutes later, Kylie set a plate of food in front of him and took the seat across from his. Bowing her head, she said a short prayer. “Lord, bless this food to our bodies and protect us through the day.”

  Nick shifted in his seat. She really was serious about this faith thing.

  Kylie blew out a long breath and pushed back a stray lock of hair. “I’m so glad Monday is here. I usually love the weekend, but this one has been horrendous.” She forked a bite of food.

  Nick paused between bites. He raised one eyebrow. “Spending the weekend with me was that bad, huh?”

  “No. I didn’t mean that.” Kylie lowered her fork and laughed. “What I meant to say was that this weekend has been a little too eventful for me. You know, crazy phone calls, dead bodies.”

  “Oh, that.” Nick winked. “Glad it wasn’t me.”

  Kylie dropped her gaze and forked another bite of food.

  Great. He’d offended her. That was a pretty fresh move for someone she called a friend. His heart gave a thump, this time reminding him he needed to keep his head on straight. Kylie needed his help. Plain and simple. She didn’t need him. Didn’t want him.

  He didn’t blame her.

  * * *

  Payroll. Nick had never thought simple accounting could be so confusing. Swiveling in his office chair, he picked up a handful of time sheets and entered them into the first ledger. This was the same archaic system his father had used when Nick was an adolescent. Even then it had seemed redundant.

  Everything was recorded on paper, transcribed into three ledgers before adding the total hours worked by each employee on the payroll record log. No wonder Steven said he stayed most of the night when he did payroll.

  Blowing out a breath, Nick scribbled in some more numbers before realizing he had written them in the wrong column. Sighing, he grabbed an eraser.

  Give him a laptop and he could figure out anything. Manual accounting was definitely over his head.

  The next time Nick glanced up, his gaze shifted automatically to the large wall clock. Five-fifty. Great. He grabbed his cell phone and punched in Kylie’s number. He was supposed to meet her at the newspaper office by six. The motorcycle had a flat tire this morning, so he’d dropped her off and still had her car.

  He hated being late for anything. Especially for her.

  Kylie picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Nick.”

  “Sorry, running late. It’s payroll day and I’m struggling to relearn how to use a basic calculator. I’m leaving now and should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Sounds stressful.” He heard amusement in her voice. “Just take your time. I have a couple things to catch up on.”

  “Busy day for you, too?”

  “Actually, there hasn’t been much in the way of breaking news. Which has been kind of nice. I need a slow day once in a while. Most of the other reporters have left for the day, so I haven’t had any distractions.”

  Alone? Nick didn’t like that idea. “Anyone there with you?”

  “Ray and Don, a couple of guys in the print department, are working just down the hall. But no one gets into the building without a code or a key after security leaves at five.”

  Nick scratched his temple. Except criminals. He spared her that thought. “I’m glad you’re not alone. I’ll be on my way shortly. I’ll call when I get there.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  * * *

  Kylie settled back in her seat and scrolled through files on her computer. She stopped halfway through the list and opened one. Local 4-H club and their farm animals get ready to compete at state fair. Nibbling her lip, she skimmed over the first draft of the article.

  It was a good start. Satisfied, she picked up a yellow legal pad and tore off a page of notes. She ran her finger down the page, rechecking the breed of sheep the students would be showing at the fair.

  Suffolk. That was what she’d thought.

  She turned back to the computer and started typing.

  The sound of heavy footsteps striking the tile floor drifted in from the hallway. She stopped, sat up straighter in her chair. She glanced around, expecting to see one of her colleagues walk into the newsroom.

  Several moments passed. Nothing. She shook her head. She hated when her mind conjured up fears.

  Kylie picked up typing again.

  A soft ruffling sound came from behind her and she tensed. Whirling in her seat, she shot a sharp glance to the doorway. She waited and then shouted, “Hello. Ray? Don?”

  No answer. That didn’t stop the dread knotting in her stomach.

  She picked up the phone and dialed the print-shop extension. Seven rings later she hung up. They must have gone to dinner.

  Okay. Enough work for one day. She’d just wait outside for Nick. Stuffing her cell phone into her pocket, she hitched her handbag onto her shoulder.

  Another sound drifted toward her. Soft footfalls?

  Her breath caught in her lungs. She wasn’t waiting to find out. She headed for the back exit off the anteroom that led to the lower parking lot, chiding herself for being skittish.

  Then again, whoever was milling around could have at least made themselves known.

  Even the janitor poked his head in and said hello before he started working. Circling the copy machine, she swung past several reels of newsprint and boxes of ink. As she approached a wall of employee lockers, she heard her name. She paused to listen; the drone of the air conditioner filled the silence. But as she took her next step, the thud of boots made her pulse surge.

  In three quick steps, she reached the exit door and yanked it open. Anxiously, she ran her hand along the stairwell wall, searching for the light switch. She scarcely used this exit and couldn’t recall the location.

  Something hard and metallic clunked on the floor. Abandoning her search, she moved quickly, groping her way down the narrow staircase, stumbling twice before she reached the first-floor landing.

  As she took a moment to catch her breath, a door slammed and she heard footsteps thundering down behind her.

  Panic zipped along her spine, sending her into fight-or-flight mode. To her left, a small glowing exit sign alerted her to the lobby door. Curling a hand around the knob, she yanked twice, meeting resistance.

  Why wasn’t it unlocked? This was the door they used during fire drills. Even before that thought fully penetrated, she put her feet into motion and bounded down the stairs heading to the basement.

  The pepper spray Nick had mentioned came to mind. What she wouldn’t give for some now.

  At the bottom of the stairwell, Kylie whipped her gaze around, although it was futile. The darkness, a deep black shrouded her view.

  Her heart flailed against her rib cage. In the daylight she had a limited sense of direction and without lights she was clearly disoriented, but she kept her hand along the wall, palming her way in search of an escape route. Or even better, a place to hide.

  Kylie blinked as the eerie gleam of a flashlight caught her eyes. Biting back a squeal, she dropped to a crouch, still moving. Still praying.

  “You can’t hide forever, Kylie, my girl.” The man’s muffled drawl carried through the darkness. Distorted, same as his phone calls.

  Who was this maniac?

  “Kylie, come out, come out wherever you are.” The man’s singsong voice echoed in her ears.

  On second thought, she didn’t want to know.

  A stream of light flashed again, erratically zigzagging through the narrow space.
Squeezing her lips tight to keep from making a sound, she stayed low. Her eyes followed the trail of the light. For a fleeting second it landed on a door a few yards away.

  Hope expanded her chest.

  Darkness fell again. A retreating set of footsteps echoed. The beam of light flashed in the opposite direction.

  She had no time to lose. She crawled along the cold tile floor, mentally measuring the distance as she paused every two to three feet to feel out her surroundings. Finally her fingers brushed a doorknob.

  Holding her breath, she clenched the knob and twisted it slowly, relieved that it wasn’t locked. Thank You, Lord!

  She wrenched the heavy door open just enough to slip inside. A loud clink boomed through the silence as the metal door slammed shut.

  Frantically, she twisted the lock. Heavy footfalls echoed from outside.

  Pulling out her cell phone, she used the light to probe the area.

  The storage closet housed stacks of old chairs and file cabinets and other obsolete supplies.

  “Kylie, I know you’re in there.” The doorknob rattled but the lock held. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice sounded muffled and distorted and sent her blood pressure skyrocketing.

  Yeah, right. Dropping everything, Kylie scrambled to one of the file cabinets. Mustering every ounce of her strength, she pressed against it, pushing the tall metal cabinet in front of the door.

  Then, gathering her belongings, she crumpled onto a wooden pallet in the corner of the room and worked to catch her breath. As her heart squeezed out a silent prayer, her initial fears began to ebb. Either that or she was just too exhausted to care. She turned down the volume on her cell phone and punched in 911. She updated the dispatcher, praying the police wouldn’t take long.

  Then she keyed in Nick’s number.

  Nick picked up right away. She breathed easier. “Nick—”

  Before she could get another word out, he started rambling. “Sorry. A cashier had an issue with the cash register, and I got tied up helping him. But I’ll be there in a moment. You can’t believe what kind of day I had—”

  “Nick. Please listen,” Kylie whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.

  “Kylie, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m in the basement of the newspaper building. There’s a door leading in from the parking lot.”

  “The basement? What are you doing there?”

  “My stalker...the serial killer...he’s here.”

  “What?”

  “I locked myself in a storage room.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  Kylie swiped at the perspiration prickling her brow. “Yes, they should be on their way.”

  “I’m almost at your office now. Is the stalker still there?”

  A fist pounded on the door.

  Her heart lurched. Panic rose again. “Yes!”

  TWELVE

  Nick flew into the lot, tires squealing against the asphalt. Slamming on the brakes, he parked and jumped out of Kylie’s car, still on the phone with a 911 operator. “Ma’am, Kylie Harper already called, but I just want to reiterate that she’s in the basement of the Asheville Daily News building and the police need get over here now!”

  Racing across the parking lot, he glanced right, then left, his gaze sweeping along the length of the brick building like a searchlight. Where was that door?

  Toward the east side of the property, the land began to veer off, the slope becoming steep. Frustration rising, he stopped, assessed the scene, made a decision. He headed into a thick stretch of forest. He elbowed past bushes and fir trees as twigs and underbrush snapped beneath his boots, and made his way to the back of the building.

  In his mind’s eye Kylie’s face appeared. He mentally kicked himself for being late. Once again, he’d let her down. Like he had Conrad.

  He’d been dropped into the heaviest war zones in the world. He’d saved lives, made a difference. Home in Asheville, he was nothing more than a hazard.

  Gnashing his teeth, Nick forced his brain off that track. No time for self-pity.

  Through the trees he spotted a small parking lot and beyond that the building’s loading dock, with several large metal overhead doors. Was that what Kylie had been talking about?

  His question was answered as he broke into the clearing and caught a glimpse of the security door lost in the afternoon shadows.

  He lengthened his stride, making for the door.

  * * *

  At the sound of keys jingling, Kylie shot to her feet. The lock rattled. Her nerves were back on alert.

  This man had to be someone who worked for the paper. One of her colleagues.

  A second passed; the doorknob twisted and creaked.

  Heart in her throat, she threw her weight against the file cabinet as the heavy door cracked open, meeting resistance.

  “Kylie, sweet Kylie, you are making this difficult.”

  No kidding. Pressing a shoulder to the cabinet, she strained, pushing with all her might as the man on the other side of the door used his strength to push against her.

  For several long moments the reverse tug-of-war continued. As she made a desperate attempt to hold her ground, the heel of her shoe caught on a crack in the concrete floor. Her foot slipped and she thudded onto her hands and knees. Reacting fast and breathing hard, Kylie regained her footing, but not before the cabinet slid into the room several inches.

  A distorted chuckle filled the air. Her heart leaped and she gulped for air.

  With adrenaline spurring her on, she braced herself, threw her weight against the cabinet again and pushed harder.

  At the back entrance to the building, Nick yanked on the metal knob once and when the security door didn’t budge, he switched gears. He’d broken into more secure buildings than this, although not without the help of explosives. Still, he knew what he had to do.

  Grabbing a wooden plank from the landing dock, he used it as a battering ram. Repeatedly, he thrust the blunt end of the lumber against the door lock. Pieces of metal cracked and shards flew in every direction. Using his pocketknife, Nick ripped loose the remnants of the handle, tossing them to the side.

  A moment later, he pulled the door open. No alarm sounded. So much for security.

  Light filtered through the doorway, breaking up the darkness and affording him a look around before he made his next move. Ahead of him, the small hallway ended and split into three directions. He took a step, listening closely. Two more steps and he heard a muffled sound to his right.

  Nick flattened his back to the wall and moved slowly, carefully along the painted brick to the end of the hall. Instinctively, he ran a hand over the holster on his belt where he kept his revolver. Instead of his gun, his fingers wrapped around the leather case of his cell phone. Not a surprise, but his heart still sank a little.

  He poked his head around the corner. A crack split the air. He pulled back as the whistle of a bullet shot past him. This guy wasn’t playing.

  Nick took a moment and thought how to proceed. No weapon. No backup—yet. He cupped his hand around his mouth and shouted, “Law enforcement is on the way. Do yourself a favor and give up now!”

  Not really a threat, but he wanted the guy to do something crazy, make a mistake.

  Another bullet whizzed through the air, echoing around the dead air.

  Adrenaline scorched through Nick like wildfire. He wanted this guy.

  Dropping to the floor, he belly crawled out into the corridor and made his way deeper into the building.

  Seconds ticked by, but nothing happened, then another burst of gunfire rang out. Nick rolled several times, halting when he got to the entranceway of a closed office. He pulled himself up to one knee. “Give it up, creep!”

  Silence. Then another shot sprayed toward him, burrowing into the wall beside his head.

 
Pulling back, he wedged himself into the narrow entranceway and caught his breath.

  Retreating footsteps followed.

  Nick kept his back plastered to the wall and waited an interminable length of time. Gradually, the footfalls faded. Then he got to his feet. His gut told him the coward was on the run. No great shock.

  But what had he done with Kylie?

  Fear raced through him. Nick hoped his tardiness hadn’t caused Kylie any harm, or worse—

  Gritting his teeth, he refused to allow his mind to stray in that direction.

  Heart hammering, Nick edged into the main corridor, keeping his back flush to the wall just in case he was wrong and the killer was hanging around to finish the job. Dimness bled into darkness as he moved down the hallway.

  Sirens blared in the distance, announcing the arrival of the police. If Kylie’s stalker was still around, he’d heard them, too. Then it hit him. The creep probably had gotten away.

  Frustration wrenched in Nick’s chest, but he kept moving, curling his fingers into his palm. No matter what, he would find this guy. If not today, soon. Very soon.

  Halting a moment, Nick took a chance and hollered, “Kylie!”

  Silence answered him. No bullets. No Kylie. He took out his cell, dialed her number. No service. He had to be in a dead zone.

  As lights flickered on, voices shouting orders came from behind him, along with footsteps thudding down the hallway. A glance over his shoulder caught three vested police officers rushing toward him, weapons drawn.

  Nick gestured up ahead to the opposite end of the corridor. “I heard him running in that direction.” His hand itched to curl his fingers around his revolver. He’d never thought he’d miss carrying a weapon.

  Then again, he’d never thought he’d be chasing after murderers again.

  One officer nodded as the trio scurried past him down one corridor and veered off into another.

  “Where’s Kylie?” Dave trailed the others, out of breath.

  “Don’t know. But I’m going to find her.” Nick started moving again.