Smoky Mountain Investigation

by Annslee Urban

  “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, exposing 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.

  The worst part was, Kylie probably wouldn’t buy in to his suspicions. She was too hyped up about getting back to her life.

  And the past few days had been awkward between them. Kylie acted a little more distant and he reciprocated, giving her space. He understood where she was coming from.

  The truth of matter—he’d be leaving soon. A goodbye was inevitable.

  Hard on both of them, but soon they’d be consumed with their own lives again.

  Logical. Too bad the heart didn’t really know logic.

  * * *

  Kylie wrestled with the bulging suitcase on the bed and tried to zip it shut. Packed to the gills. It hadn’t seemed so difficult to close when she’d packed the first time. But wasn’t that how things went? What once fit together perfectly no longer fit the same once it was disrupted.

  And that truth ran the gamut.

  Articles in a suitcase. Packaging in a box. A relationship. Her and Nick.

  Suppressing a sigh, Kylie pressed down, adding more weight, and managed to tug the zipper around the black bag.

  Okay. She got to her feet and brushed off her hands. Time to get going.

  She yanked up the roller handle and walked out of the room.

  Nick was sitting on the sofa in the living room, a vacant look on his face, his eyes heavy lidded. He looked so peaceful. So handsome. How could she have considered for a moment that he might be her stalker?

  Shaking her head, Kylie took a step into the family room and then stopped. She looked closely, but couldn’t decide if Nick was half-asleep or deep in thought.

  Maybe he was reordering his thoughts, convincing himself that the past was the past. And that the feelings he’d once felt for her needed to be explored again.

  Stop it. Kylie pushed off the dream. The near kiss in the kitchen had only been a fleeting moment of emotion for him. He was well past it now. Nick had big plans for his future that didn’t involve her.

  With a slow exhale, she changed her way of thinking. She would not succumb to fantasy any longer.

  Crazy that she’d even allowed her thoughts to drift, considering the ache it caused. What had started out as a small twinge in her chest the moment she laid eyes on Nick at the airport had progressed into a painful spasm when she thought about him leaving again.

  Instinctively she pressed two fingers to her chest. A bruised heart, she knew from experience, took a long time to heal.

  She cleared her throat.

  Nick looked up from the sofa. A smile chased away his impassive expression. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” She matched his smile. “I hope I didn’t disrupt your nap.”

  “No. I wasn’t sleeping.” He got to his feet and stretched his back. “I’ve been up for hours, sitting around mulling over the facts of the case. I got here a little while ago. What about you? You’re up pretty early.”

  “I have to get to my house to drop off my things before I go into work.”

  Nick glanced past her to the bags in the hallway behind her. Then he flashed Kylie a puzzled look. “You’re leaving already?”

  The question surprised her. The case was closed. Why wouldn’t she leave?

  She nodded her reply.

  “I’m not sure you should leave yet.”

  An awful coldness seeped through her as she searched his gaze. Was he trying to play with her emotions? “Why shouldn’t I leave?”

  “There are a few things about the case and the investigation that concern me.”

  “The case is closed.”

  “I understand that. However, I have my concerns that Dave and his men made a premature decision.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Why don’t you sit down?” He gestured toward the sofa.

  Kylie shook her head. “I’ll stand.” She didn’t like the way the conversation was heading. She didn’t want doubts in Nick’s head. She wanted his investigative mind to concur with the police.

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure that Todd Pruitt is the killer. I’ve been digging around in his past and I don’t have a good feeling about him being the one.”

  Kylie’s pulse started to race. “Is anyone ever a hundred percent sure of anything?”

  “Everyone should be when it comes to murder.”

  Kylie bristled at that. “I feel okay about this. I think the investigation was conclusive, and I believe Todd is the killer.”
<
br />   “The guy was a drug addict. Do you really think he would be capable enough to commit such calculated crimes?”

  “I didn’t know Todd well enough to have an opinion of what he would be capable of. But I do know what he had in his possession at the time of his death.”

  “Okay, consider this. Why would he be carrying around the evidence?”

  “Nick, you said it yourself, guys like this are obsessed. And their motives don’t have to make sense.”

  “Although serial killers have skewed thoughts, their minds are sharp.” Before she could comment, Nick held up his hand. “Did Todd ever ask you out? In high school or after?”

  Without hesitation Kylie shook her head.

  “At any time did he ever flirt or hint around that he might be interested in you?”

  “No. I never spoke more than two words to the guy. Including in high school.”

  “Okay. I’m not saying he doesn’t have some part in this, but I don’t see him as your stalker.”

  “Nick. Please.”

  Nick plowed a hand through his hair. “Kylie, I have a gut feeling that this guy isn’t the one. You need to trust me on this.”

  Trust? As if that was easy. She couldn’t even trust her own heart these days.

  And spending more time with this man wouldn’t be good for her. Sending him a sidelong glance, she found his russet-brown eyes fastened on her.

  She breathed deep. Things could only get worse.

  “Nick, I can’t keep living in the shadows. I need to get my life back on track.”

  “I understand. I just wish you’d lie low for another few days.”

  “I have a friend who is willing to stay with me for a few days. Two sets of instincts are better than one.” She tried for a smile but it was a bust.

  A dark brow lifted. “And who is this friend?”

  She squared her shoulders. This was worse than trying to convince her father that backpacking through Mexico with some of her college friends was perfectly safe. He’d never bought it. She never went.

  But she was older now and Nick was not her father. “Julie Masters. She’s in my Sunday school class.”