Mountain Pursuit: Smoky Mountain Investigation ; Mountain Rescue

by Annslee Urban

  He shot her his infamous two-finger salute and walked out of the newsroom.

  As far as Max being her stalker, she still couldn’t buy that theory. True, he’d always come across as attention seeking to her and a bit egotistical, but a murderer?

  Doubtful.

  Maybe her stalker was lying low and had yet to come out of the woodwork.

  She swallowed. That theory didn’t bring much comfort, either.

  * * *

  Just past eleven o’clock, Kylie climbed out of her friend Taylor’s car and made her way up the driveway to Steven’s house. She was pleasantly rested and relaxed. The evening had flown by in a whirl of conversation—idle talk about friends, Sunday school, even the latest red-dot sale at Trestle’s Department Store.

  No mention of murderers, stalkers or Nick Bentley. A perfect evening.

  As she entered through the front door, silence greeted her. Either Nick hadn’t gotten home yet or he’d taken her advice and not waited up.

  After a single step, a light snore rose, sending a band of butterflies flittering inside her stomach. Her question answered.

  She slid through the foyer without a sound. The lamp from the side table in the living room illuminated softly. Kylie’s instincts told her to walk quickly to her room, but she couldn’t help but halt briefly beside the sofa where Nick slept.

  A circle of yellow lamplight spilled over him.

  Feeling quite breathless, Kylie took in Nick’s sturdy physique. A Goliath of a man, he dwarfed the oversize sofa. One of his legs draped over the edge and the other stretched across the length of the couch with his foot jutting over the rolled armrest.

  He looked so relaxed and peaceful. Hardly like a man battling demons. Or if Dave’s assumption was correct, a man planning to kill her.

  She sighed and then her heart lurched when another gentle snore escaped Nick.

  Splaying a hand to her chest, she breathed deep, willing her heart to slow.

  Funny, the night before, Nick had stood in the kitchen, gazed into her eyes and told her he cared about her. Now barely twenty-four hours later and only a dozen steps from where he’d said those precious words, she was staring at him and wondering if he was her stalker.

  Life stank sometimes.

  A single tear trailed down her cheek. She wiped it away. She almost wished the killer would call, just to touch base and let her know he was still out there. Then she’d be sure.

  As she willed her phone to ring, more tears filled her eyes. Moments passed, hope shattered. Of course that wasn’t going to happen. Nothing was that easy.

  For now she’d keep memories of Nick close to her heart. She would not let her fears keep her from remembering him any other way.

  The light of the lamp flickered, signaling her to stop musing and move on.

  With her head held high, she walked out into the hallway toward her room, the path in front of her blurred as her tears continued, but she kept going. Tomorrow would be a new day. And no matter what, she would be a survivor.

  * * *

  Up at sunrise, Nick tightened the last bolt on the rim of the motorcycle tire. Maneuvering around town on a mode of transportation with only two wheels and a storage pouch might be somewhat limiting, but he’d be glad to have the bike working again.

  He was getting vibes from Kylie that she wanted some space. Last night proved that.

  A complicated situation, especially since the reason he hung around was to protect her.

  Nick tossed the screwdriver and ratchet into a toolbox and got to his feet. He wiped grease off his hands with an old rag, then stuffed it in his pocket. He was beginning to feel like a regular motorcycle jock.

  Although he envisioned a four-wheel-drive pickup in his future. He might even take Steven shopping with him.

  The screen door slammed. Turning, he saw Kylie walk out of the house. She was dressed for work in a black skirt, medium-high heels and a teal sweater.

  She looked great. He drew in a breath and released it slowly. A little more time apart might benefit him also.

  “You fixed the tire.” Kylie’s eyes widened as she came closer.

  “Yep. Up and running.” He fished her keys out of his pocket and pressed them into her hand. “I appreciate the use of your car. Now it’s all yours again.”

  A rosy-pink flushed her cheeks. “I hope you didn’t feel like I was rushing you.”

  “Nope. I had some time. Now the cycle is ready to ride again.”

  She lifted her eyes to his. “I hope your evening went well last night.” Her voice sounded cheery, making him wonder what kind of night she’d had.

  A hot date, a new beau in her life? Was new love in the air?

  Suddenly he was hot.

  Just before he’d dozed off to sleep, the digital display on his phone had showed almost eleven. A late night for someone who worked the next day. Although if she’d lost any winks, it didn’t show.

  Squaring his shoulders, he stopped analyzing. He hated when he got ahead of himself.

  “It was a good night. Got the stock put up and the store organized. How about you?”

  Her head bobbed. “Very nice and relaxing.”

  Relaxing? A stalker was on the loose. Her life was in danger and she was relaxed?

  “By the way,” he said, “do you mind telling me who you went out to dinner with? Not that I’m being nosy. I should have asked you last night. I want to keep track of everyone you spend time with.” Okay, he was rambling.

  “Taylor Albright.”

  Taylor. His heart slipped, but he recovered swiftly.

  “And you know him from church?”

  “Her. And yes. We are in the same Sunday school.”

  “Taylor is a female?”

  “Correct.”

  Sometimes it paid to be wrong. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He couldn’t help it.

  The trill of Kylie’s cell phone made her jump. She dug in her purse and pulled it out. “Hello,” she mumbled as she placed it to her ear.

  A moment passed. Kylie’s eyes went wide, then she gasped.

  Nick stood still watching her. The timing was about right for the predator’s next call. The creep would definitely want the world to know that he had been involved in the shoot-out in the basement of the Asheville Daily News.

  “Wonderful. Thank you. I’ll be right there.” Kylie disconnected and clutched the phone to her chest.

  Nick lifted a brow.

  Kylie blinked up to him. “They found him.”

  “They found...the killer?”

  She bobbled her head and the green in her eyes shimmered like diamonds.

  This day was definitely heading in a better direction.

  * * *

  They arrived at the morgue. Nick rang the bell and they waited to be buzzed in.

  “I’ve never been to a morgue before,” Kylie whispered.

  Nick had been in too many. Mostly makeshift shelters on the outskirts of the battle zones. Leaning in, he matched her tone. “You don’t have to whisper. This isn’t a funeral home.”

  She nodded and smiled, relief evident on her face. “Okay. I’m just nervous.”

  “You’ll do fine.” He’d hold off on his own feelings of relief for the moment. He still wanted to hear the full details of the story.

  A technician led them down a long corridor. Gently, he gripped Kylie’s elbow as he walked beside her.

  They stopped at a window. Drapes drawn. Dave was already there.

  “Are you ready?” The toneless cadence of Dave’s voice, more empty than usual, told Nick the man had been up awhile. This case was taking its toll on everyone.

  “Yes,” Kylie breathed.

  Nick stood close to her, his arm on her shoulder.

  Dave nodded to someone behind him and the draperies slid open, e
xposing a glass window—the only thing that separated them from the dreary tiled room on the other side. Against the far wall, gurneys were lined up, all empty save one. The body was covered in a sheet.

  Kylie pressed even closer to him. The unsure glance she sent him made him glad he was there.

  With any luck this nightmare would soon be behind her. Before he could whisper that in her ear, Dave spoke up.

  “Okay. Here’s an update on the latest developments. The supervisor from Asheville Regional Hospital called about four this morning. She stated EMS brought in a barely conscious man, a suspected overdose. He was found slumped over the steering wheel of his car on the side of the road. By the time the paramedics got him to the ER, he was close to death. They called a code blue, but couldn’t save him. As the nurses searched his belongings for an ID they found some items in his possession that concerned them. A couple of our officers went to investigate.”

  Dave picked up a clear plastic evidence bag off the floor. He opened it, took out a small duffel and placed it on a wooden table beside the window. Next he unzipped the duffel and pulled out a thick black portfolio and a cheap vinyl wallet, then laid them both on the table.

  “These are the items recovered from the hospital.” Dave picked up the file and started to take off the rubber band.

  With Kylie so close, Nick could feel her quickened intake and exhale of each breath. He fastened his arm a little tighter around her shoulders, hoping to calm her some.

  She stayed right by his side, with her hand on her heart. “Has this evidence already been dusted for fingerprints?” she asked, a small tremor in her voice.

  Dave snapped the rubber band off the file. He glanced at Kylie, his eyes narrowed. “Every finger in the E.R. has already been through this stuff.”

  Case closed on that idea. Nick figured that much.

  Dave opened the portfolio and as he exposed the contents inside, Kylie’s gasp echoed off the cold gray walls around them.

  Using quick reflexes, Nick caught her by the shoulders before she wilted to the floor.

  “I can’t believe this.” Kylie kept repeating, shaking her head.

  “They match the clippings we found in the barn, with the addition of a few recent ones,” Dave said. Poking his fingers through the pile, he tugged one out for Kylie to see and then added, “There are also a dozen or so photos of the murder victims. Rather grotesque. You may not want to see those.”

  Kylie wagged her head. “No, that’s okay. I believe you.”

  Nick sucked in a breath. The guy’s timeline was quite unnerving. He’d missed nothing in Kylie’s life. Even in the midst of the investigation, he never strayed far. Nick slid his gaze to the sheet-covered gurney behind the glass. He hoped that was the guy and not another one of the killer’s victims with planted evidence.

  “Dave, what showed up in the man’s wallet?” His voice turned a little gruffer than intended, but impatience egged him on.

  “Not much,” Dave said, scratching beside his nose. “No identification. Only a package of tobacco rolling papers and more pictures of Kylie.”

  Kylie glanced up at Nick, a distraught crease between her eyebrows. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Just take a calm breath. Deep inhale and breathe it out slowly.” Nick rubbed her back. “Now try to relax and when you’re ready we’ll take a look and see if you know this guy.”

  She did what he asked. After several breaths, she nodded. “Okay. I think I’m ready.”

  Nick and Kylie edged closer to the window. A woman wearing a mask, surgical gown and gloves rolled the gurney up to the glass. She glanced at Dave and at his nod she pulled back the top of the sheet.

  No one spoke. A stony silence hung in the air.

  Nick looked at the man’s face. Mid-to late-twenties. Shaved head. He had scraggly facial hair and a silver-dollar-size birthmark on the side of his face, below his left cheekbone.

  He looked familiar, but Nick couldn’t place him. Scratching his temple, he tried to recall a name or a place that might help him pinpoint the man’s identity.

  He glanced at Kylie. “Do you recognize him?”

  She took a deep, quavering breath and nodded as color drained from her face. “Yes. You and Dave should remember him, too.” She nodded at Nick, then glanced over at Dave. “Todd Pruitt. He was part of our high-school class. And several years ago he briefly worked as a groundskeeper at the newspaper.”

  “Todd Pruitt?” Dave canted his head, staring at the man. “Yes, I believe you’re right.”

  Nick glared at the corpse again. Scars and pockmarks riddled the man’s face. The bridge of his nose was crooked—he’d been in a few fights. The resemblance was vague. Todd had had long hair and smooth skin in high school, but the birthmark, a port-wine stain, hadn’t changed.

  “He hung out with the party crowd,” Dave put in. “I remember him being loud and even gruff. Suspended several times and almost didn’t graduate.”

  “Good memory, Dave.” Nick hadn’t given high school much thought over the years and details like that eluded him. That was, if he’d ever known them in the first place. One thing he did recall was that Todd had definitely hung with a different crowd then he and Kylie did. It just seemed odd that he had become obsessed with her.

  “Do either of you remember if Pruitt attended the senior camp?” Nick’s gaze swung between Dave and Kylie.

  Biting her lip, Kylie gave a shrug. “I honestly don’t recall.”

  “Yes. He did,” Dave stated firmly, as if pounding the last nail into the coffin.

  “Then again,” Nick said, “this could be the work of the perpetrator. Another victim, more planted evidence?”

  Dave’s face hardened. He crossed his arms as if to say this was his investigation. “We’ve looked over the leads we have, and everyone involved in the investigation agrees this evidence looks promising.”

  Promising was one thing, but conclusive was what they needed. Nick held his tongue. He would chalk up Dave’s attitude to fatigue and frustration. This was a big case with little clues. Solving it seemed dauntless. Now that they’d had evidence dropped into their laps, they’d need to decide if it was a lucky break or a distraction.

  Nick hated to be critical, so for now he’d let Dave and his men do their job. No judgment rendered for the moment. But he’d be on high alert until he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Todd Pruitt was Kylie’s stalker.

  SIXTEEN

  Days passed and things around Asheville got quiet.

  Still, something didn’t feel right.

  Just after dawn, Nick kicked back in a living-room chair and anchored the heel of his boot to the coffee table. He’d been up for hours.

  He’d crashed early the night before, dead tired by the time his body hit the memory-foam mattress in his little apartment. He should have slept great, especially after his cramped sleeping quarters over the past week. But instead of sleeping, he’d tossed and turned.

  By four o’clock he finally gave up, climbed out of bed and sank into the old recliner by the window. He glanced at Steven’s house next door. The lights were out. Hopefully, Kylie was able to sleep.

  Nick’s jaw clenched. He still couldn’t get the murder investigation off his mind. And the more he thought about it, the more doubts he had.

  Ever since the discovery of Todd Pruitt’s body, he’d been mulling over the quandary in his head. He’d been convinced that the investigation would continue. There were too many holes yet to be filled. But that wasn’t happening.

  Last night, just before nine, Dave had called to notify Kylie that they had sufficient evidence to link Pruitt to the two most recent murders. And although Conrad’s murder remained unsolved, his case was being reopened with Pruitt as the main suspect.

  The Asheville Stalker case had officially been closed.

  Tied up with a nice little bow.
The evidence tucked safely in a bag, the perpetrator dead.

  No one left to question. No lingering clues.

  The police obviously wanted the case behind them. Wanted a good night’s sleep.

  Nick now had insomnia.

  Folding his arms across his chest, he thought back to the beginning of the whole ordeal and sifted through the facts as he knew them.

  The airport murder had come out of nowhere. No advance warning. Only a phone call from the killer to herald his first victim and to establish himself as the murderer. Then Kylie’s elevator ride and the scavenger hunt to Jake Plyler’s barn. More phone calls. A note. Another murder victim. The basement incident.

  The killer’s crimes had made headlines. He invoked fear in people, had them looking over their shoulders. Especially Kylie, the person he stalked.

  A psychopath’s dream.

  Nick flopped his head against the recliner cushion and scrubbed a hand over his face.

  A perfectly orchestrated crime by an obsessed mind. Not a mind riddled with drugs.

  Like Todd Pruitt’s.

  Toxicology results showed polysubstance—the guy had more types of drugs in his system than a hospital pharmacy, and alcohol to boot.

  This wasn’t a first for Pruitt. A habit. An addiction. Nobody started off using drugs like that.

  In the army, Nick and his men had hunted down their share of murderers, terrorists, even a crazed stalker or two. He’d learned early on that criminals were crafty, even brilliant, their crimes complicated.

  Admittedly, some crimes were easier to solve than others. But to find all the supporting evidence in the suspect’s possession, carried around in a little bag? Not happening.

  Too convenient and clean.

  Pruitt might have been hired help, but no way was he the instigator.

  Nick bit back a groan.

  The killer was still out there. Idly watching. Idly waiting for the right time to strike again. He could feel it.

  Maybe even working among the detectives or media, somehow related to the investigation.

  Nick hated to be suspicious, discount the police detectives’ capability or rationale. But even more so, he couldn’t discount his gut.