“Nick Bentley,” the tall, burly officer greeted him, redirecting his thoughts.
Nick shook Dave’s outstretched hand. “It’s been a while, Dave. Hope you’re doing well.”
“Just fine.” Dave canted his head toward Kylie. “I wish I could say the same for her.”
Nick met Kylie’s concerned gaze. “Still a little unnerved about last night?”
She half nodded and then shrugged. “You could say that. Add a heart-racing ride in a possessed elevator and, well...my nerves haven’t settled quite yet.”
“So you were the one stuck in the elevator?”
She bobbed her head, looking dismayed. “Yes, I was. And I wouldn’t recommend a ride like that to anyone.”
He gave a slight chuckle. “Are you okay?”
She pushed hair from her face. “A little frazzled, but fine.”
“I can understand you being on edge after last night’s events. I’ve had a tough time getting the murder off my mind. I came by this morning in hopes of gathering a few details. Apparently you did also.”
“Yes. Sorry to say.”
“Another article?”
Kylie answered his question with a tight smile.
Curiosity brightened Dave’s expression. “Nick, you’re in law enforcement, aren’t you? Part of the military police?”
“Something like that.”
“Delta Force. The army’s most elite top secret task force,” Kylie put in.
Nick still couldn’t believe Kylie had kept up with him. A wave of guilt tightened his chest. To think how hard he had worked to forget this town...and her.
Dave nodded. “You sound like a good resource to have around here. Small town or not, the department stays busy, but mostly due to being understaffed. I’m chief investigator, with only three on my staff. If you have time, any input would be appreciated. We’re not too well versed on murders of this caliber.”
“I don’t know about that.” Nick waved off the compliment. “I’m sure you guys are more than capable, but I’ll be happy to take a look at any evidence you have.”
Dave ushered them into a corner office under the speculative gazes of other law-enforcement personnel.
Nick took a seat beside Kylie. Dave shut the glass door and joined them at the table.
“So, what do you know so far about our John Doe?” Kylie started, flipping open her notepad.
Dave folded his thick fingers on the marred wooden table. “The forensics team is working on the details. What we do know is that robbery wasn’t the motive. The victim’s wallet was discovered in some bushes a block from the homeless shelter on Oakmont. There were eighty-eight dollars in it, along with his ID and Social Security card.”
Nick figured as much. “So who was this unlucky person?”
Dave adjusted his bulky frame in his seat and canted his head. “The victim was Robert Tucker. He lived at the shelter. Showed up here about a month ago. No one there knows much about him. He pretty much kept to himself.”
“Anyone see him the day of the murder?” Nick sorted through some pictures of the victim on the table.
“Actually, earlier in the day Tucker was in an altercation with another patron of the shelter and he was asked to leave.”
Kylie stopped writing and glanced up from her notes. “Do you consider the man Tucker had the altercation with a suspect?”
Dave gave a firm shake of his head. “No, we’ve already ruled him out. He ended up in the hospital with a broken arm and head fracture and is still there.”
“Nice guy, Tucker was.” Nick gave a low whistle.
“Did Tucker have any issues with anyone else at the shelter?” Kylie scratched her temple with the end of her pen.
Dave shrugged. “At the moment we don’t have those details.”
A lump formed in Nick’s throat. His hope for a quick resolution to this case slipped away. “Do you have any suspects at the moment?”
“No. That’s something we’re working on.” A flat coolness blanketed Dave’s tone.
If Nick hadn’t known Dave, he would have thought years on the force had made him callous. A coping strategy Nick had seen often. Hardened to the tragedies of others. One of the reasons he’d left.
“Does anyone at the shelter have information on Tucker’s family members, distant or local?” Kylie’s hopeful tone escalated a bit.
A shrug from Dave. “Not that I’m aware.”
Kylie noted a couple more details on her pad.
Nick’s mind raced with questions. But only one seemed pertinent. “The victim was bleeding from a wound on the neck, correct?”
When Dave nodded, Kylie finished his question. “Is that what he died from?”
“Seems to be. His throat was slit and he bled through his carotid artery.”
Several seconds passed. Nick waited for Dave to elaborate further. When he didn’t, Nick had to ask. “Slit from ear to ear?”
A hesitation, then Dave nodded.
Kylie stopped writing. Her gaze snagged Nick’s and her face paled. “Exactly like Conrad.”
“Afraid so.” Dave’s voice went low. “We’re already looking into a possible link to Conrad’s unsolved murder.”
Nick’s heart dropped like a piece of lead to his stomach.
That was what he was afraid of.
* * *
“He’s back. I know he is.” Kylie’s rapid pace didn’t slow as she headed for her car. “Why would he come back after all these years? And why would he contact me?”
“Nothing’s conclusive yet. He still could be a copycat looking for press. Everything about Conrad’s murder is public knowledge.” Nick lengthened his stride to keep up with her.
At the car, Kylie halted and blinked up at him. “Slit throat, yes. But from ear to ear... Only a few of us knew about that.”
“Kylie, word travels. But even if this was Conrad’s killer, he may not strike again for another ten years.”
She threw up her hands. “Or maybe he’s already picked his next victim?”
Even as Nick tried to console her, to relieve her concerns, the same questions plagued him.
“Just be careful. Okay?”
Kylie narrowed her eyes on him. “So you do think I’m in danger.”
Nick held up his hand. “Kylie, I didn’t say that. Although it’s never a bad idea to play it safe.”
She swung hair back from her face and huffed softly. “This whole situation creeps me out.”
“It should.”
She gave a small laugh. “At least my reaction is appropriate.”
He smiled. That was the Kylie he remembered. Always a trouper. “By the way, do you have a security system at home?”
She brushed a soft brown curl behind her ear with an uneasy gesture. “Not yet. I recently moved into my grandmother’s old house.”
He nodded, recalling the small timber-frame home, nestled in the trees and bordered by national forest. “She had a great view of the Smokies, I recall.”
“Still does. As beautiful as ever. Although rural and isolated. My closest neighbors are two acres away.”
“Yeah. I remember that, too.”
Nick’s conscience would never let him forget how he’d once turned his back on Kylie and walked away. He’d already let her down once when she needed him. And if anything happened to her now...well, he hated to fathom that. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea to err on the side of caution and stay somewhere else for a few days, let things blow over. My brother has an extra room at his house. I’m bunking next door in the apartment above the store.”
She rubbed at the wrinkle that formed between her brows. “Thanks for the offer, Nick. I’m going to try to keep things in perspective, like you said. Besides, Dave had that tracer put on my phone line. If the creep calls again, hopefully, they’ll track him down in short order.”
Optimistic, but not realistic. Nick breathed deep. “Keeping things in perspective doesn’t mean you can’t take precautions.”
“If things get more harried,
I’ll consider your offer. How is Steven, anyway?”
“Still in the hospital and going through rehab.”
Kylie curved her lips in a sympathetic smile that any starlet would envy. Lovely curved lips, luscious and full, eminently kissable... Nick blinked. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. He wasn’t going there. Once his brother was ready to get back to work again, he’d be on his way. He had no intention of hanging around.
“Speaking of Steven.” Nick cleared his throat. “I should check in on him and get back to the store.”
Her brow creased. For an instant she just stared at him, and then her face relaxed a bit. “Sorry you had to get involved in this mess. But I do appreciate your help and concern.”
Before he had the chance to tell her he was glad to be of assistance, Kylie turned away, pulling open the car door and slipping behind the wheel.
“Say hello to Steven for me,” she called out her open window as she revved up the engine and backed out of the parking spot.
“Be careful and don’t forget about the room offer,” he called after her, his words trailing, carried away by the breeze.
Tension strummed through every muscle, reminding him to keep a close eye on Kylie.
* * *
There was little traffic, so the ride to the hospital took only a few minutes. The woman at the information desk directed Nick to the first set of elevators and told him to get off on the third floor, the rehab unit.
The door to Steven’s room stood ajar. Nick inched it farther open and heard chuckles from the other side of the pulled curtain. Stepping farther into the room, he cleared his throat. A tall blonde dressed in green scrubs yanked the fabric drapery back.
Steven sat in a reclining chair in the corner of the room, his casted leg elevated and his arm in a sling resting on a pillow. His face lit up. “Bro, welcome.”
Nick stepped closer. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No, no.” Steven waved his good arm toward the woman in scrubs. “This is my physical therapist, Amy. We just had a therapy session and she was helping me get comfortable.”
Nick nodded. “I see.”
“Well, Steven, I’ll check back with you later.” Amy brushed past Nick and slipped out the door.
“See you later, Amy,” Steven called after her. His gaze bounced to Nick. “I was expecting you sooner. I thought you got into town last night.”
“I did. But by the time I got to your place it was too late to call or come by.” Nick moved closer to his brother and extended his hand. “I’d give you a hug, but I’m afraid I don’t have Amy’s gentle touch.”
“No problem.” Steven laughed as he shook Nick’s hand. “Good to see you. I hate that your plane got in late. I know you had a long trip.”
“Actually, we landed on time. I just ran into an old friend.”
“Nice.” Steven chuckled. “I’m laid up in bed and you ditched me for an old friend.”
“I wouldn’t say I ditched you, although it looks like you’ve been in good hands.” Nick lifted a brow.
“Oh, yeah. What can I say? Women love me.” The pleasant smirk on Steven’s face made Nick laugh.
“So who was this old friend you ran into?” Steven winced as he adjusted his sling.
Nick pulled a chair to the side of Steven’s recliner, angling it toward him. “Kylie Harper.”
“Kylie?” Steven eyes rounded. “I would think she’s more than an old friend.”
She had been once, but those days were gone. And at the moment, Nick had no intention of rehashing those memories. “Have you seen the news today?”
With his brow knitted, Steven said, “No, why?”
“There was a murder at the airport last night. I ran into Kylie in the baggage claim as the body was being removed from the scene.”
“Wow. Pretty creepy. Was Kylie there covering the story?”
Nick shook his head. “No. She was contacted by the killer and he directed her to the victim. An unknown man with his throat slit.”
“What?” Steven sat upright in his chair before slumping against the back again. “Ow!”
Nick jumped up from his chair. “What can I do?”
“Adjust my leg a little to the left and place the pillow back under my sling.”
Nick did as his brother asked.
“Throat slit?” Steven said through gritted teeth. “Coincidence, or is Conrad’s killer back?”
“That’s what I’m hoping to find out.”
Steven blew out a slow breath, the pain erasing from his face. “Are you helping with the investigation?”
“Dave Michelson is the detective on the case and I’ve offered my services.”
A small smile crept across Steven’s face. “Good. Then this killer is toast.”
“Well, it’s a little early to predict that, but let’s hope so.”
“Hope so? I know so. With your passion for justice, this guy doesn’t have a chance.”
Nick swallowed. He knew better than anyone that sometimes that wasn’t enough.
FOUR
Max had planted himself in the chair to the right of Kylie’s desk and it looked as though it would take a three-alarm fire to roust him out. If not for the tedious click of the chair as he rocked back and forth, his presence would have been easier to ignore.
“Big news in a small-town paper. That’s what puts us on the map.”
“Uh-huh.” Kylie hit the delete key on her computer keyboard again, erasing the last paragraph of her upcoming article. She didn’t need another distraction. Between last night’s murder, Nick’s sudden reappearance and the elevator episode, her mind was already stretched to capacity.
Max continued to ramble, giving his usual pep talk. “If you put your heart and soul into your work, there may be a Pulitzer at the other end...”
She just wanted to make it to the end of the day without melting into a mental pile of mush.
Kylie studied the computer screen. The words blurred together. She needed to get a grip. Focus on what really mattered—writing this article.
Apparently her mind didn’t agree. At the moment her thoughts revolved around one thing: Nick Bentley.
A wave of nostalgia wrapped around her. It didn’t help that Nick hadn’t changed one iota in the past ten years...well...with the exception of bulging muscles and close-cropped hair. Still, his dimpled smile and those warm brown eyes sent her heart into a gallop. This completely defied logic, given his rapid departure after their high-school graduation and that she hadn’t had so much as a phone call since.
Their breakup had been amicable to some degree. They’d both had guilt and sadness to deal with after Conrad’s death. They’d needed space. But she’d always thought...well, always hoped that one day—
Stop it. Kylie shook herself and started pecking on the keyboard again, trying to untangle her thoughts and write the article. She needed to leave history where it belonged—behind her.
Nick was home for one reason. And it wasn’t her.
She gave a little sigh that came out more like a moan. Biting her lip, she glanced at Max. He continued to rock and ramble. Tall and wiry, he looked about as uncomfortable in the chair as she was about him sitting there in it. She started typing again.
“Now, if the killer calls again, don’t forget your journalistic duties and ask him a few questions.”
At the word killer, her ears perked up. She spun in her chair and confronted Max. “So if I get another call from this guy, you want me to interview him. Like what? A prize boxer after a fight? Asking him how good it feels to win?”
Max threw his head back and barked with laughter. “Kylie, girl. You’ve got more wit than I give you credit for.”
“No, Max. I’m serious. If this man calls again, the conversation will involve his agenda, not mine.”
Max pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up on his nose. “Well, any clue to his whereabouts, motive or even his next victim is what readers want to know.”
Read
ers? Kylie fell back in her chair and covered her face with her hands. “You’re talking about a murderer, Max. A cold-blooded killer. Not some bad-boy sports figure. Let’s pray for a speedy resolution to this murder case and for life to get back to normal.”
“Until then, keep the story alive and interesting.” Max stood and stretched a little. “Pulitzer, Kylie.” He gave her a pat on the shoulder on his way out of the newsroom.
Forget the Pulitzer. She’d be happy with a little quiet and peace of mind.
She skimmed the article, edited a couple sentences and added a few more facts, grateful to see it was coming together. A little more tweaking and she’d be finished.
The trill of her cell phone sent her pulse into a sprint. She pulled the handset from under a stack of papers. Restricted showed on the screen. She pressed it to her ear. “Kylie Harper.”
“Kylie. My dear Kylie, how are you?”
Her heart stopped. She shifted the phone to the other ear. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Don’t sound so fussy, dear. Didn’t you enjoy my gift?”
Kylie swallowed a gasp. “A dead man? No. That’s a terrible gift.”
Heated laughter rippled through the line.
She pinched her eyes shut and whispered through clenched teeth, “Please, stop this madness.”
“Stop?” Another fiery chuckle. “Why, precious, I’ve just begun.”
Kylie bolted upright in her chair. Her eyes popped open. “What do you mean?”
“Did you enjoy the elevator ride, Kylie?”
Her heart slipped. “You...you were responsible for that?”
“I told you. I’m never far away.”
Questions? Questions? Max’s words echoed in her head. What questions should she ask? She rubbed at her forehead as if to jump-start her brain. “So where are you now?”
“Too personal, dear. But I have a question for you. Fireworks. Do you remember?”
Fireworks? “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Oh, but you do.”
“No—”
“The cows and the moon.”
“What?”
“I saw you stealing kisses, Kylie.”
Fighting for a full breath, Kylie barely got out, “Jake Plyler’s farm.”
Smoky Mountain Investigation Page 3