“I’M WATCHING YOU…”

A mysterious caller taunts journalist Kylie Harper with details about a decade-old death, leading her to a new trail of murder. Who is this deranged person…and what does he want from her? Ex-Delta Force captain and Kylie’s former love Nick Bentley fled their Smoky Mountain hometown after the murder of their classmate. When family duty calls him back, Nick comes face-to-face with Kylie…and the past he’s tried to forget. Now Nick must put everything on the line to save Kylie before she becomes the next victim of a madman.

“We can’t stop looking. What if—”

“Kylie, it’s okay.” Nick slipped his strong arm around her.

Instinct warned her not to get too close to this man. Years ago she’d learned what losing him could do to her heart. She couldn’t go down that path again. Still, it felt good to be in his arms again.

A shiver skidded over her at the thought of suspending the search. The killer’s phone call had directed her here.

“Come on.” She grabbed his hand.

The flashlight cast distorted shadows over the barn. They pushed aside cobwebs and searched till they found a box.

Blood pounded in Kylie’s ears. She tried not to jump, tried not to breathe as Nick opened the flaps and withdrew a bulging folder. Dozens of roughly cut-out newspaper articles and photos scattered onto the floor.

Her body went rigid when she realized she was looking at articles she’d written, along with black-and-white prints of herself. Was she the next victim?

ANNSLEE URBAN

grew up watching old-time romance movies, to which she attributes her passion for sweet romance, true love and happy endings. A daydreamer at heart, Annslee began her writing journey when the youngest of her five children started school. For several years she worked as a freelance writer for newspapers in her community and has written for magazines and online publications.

Raised in the foothills of Arizona, she survived temperature shock when she moved to Western Pennsylvania, before settling in North Carolina with her husband and children. Aside from writing, Annslee works part-time as a registered nurse in the behavioral health field. She is a member of ACFW, and has served on the board of Carolina Christian Writers.

When she isn’t writing, Annslee enjoys cooking, traveling to faraway places, playing with grandbabies and all things chocolate!

You can reach Annslee at maryannsleeurban@gmail.com, maryurban.blogspot.com, facebook.com/mary.a.urban.9.

Smoky Mountain Investigation

Annslee Urban

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

—Hebrews 4:16

This book is affectionately dedicated to the memory of my father, Kenneth Lee Woods, a man whose love for reading and the Lord greatly shaped my life.

Also, to my mother and stepfather, Dee and Bob Gagnon. Your love for family and each other continues to inspire and bless me.

And to my grandchildren, Cameron, Isaac, Jayce and Kylie, who keep me young, laughing and ever amazed.

And most of all to the Lord God for making this book possible.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Kylie Harper pressed the cell phone to her ear, her heart thumping against her chest. Had she heard the man right?

Standing outside the airport terminal, she took a moment to gather her composure. Angry clouds hovered low over Asheville, quickly turning the evening into night.

She took a much-needed breath. “Who is this?”

“Murderer.” He spoke slowly this time. More precisely. “Because of you, an innocent person died.”

Kylie stiffened and swallowed. A sick joke. Crazed folks enjoy taunting journalists, her rational self reminded her. “I don’t know who you are, what you want or even if you have the right number—”

“Ten years ago.” The slow, mumbled drawl bled through the phone line. “I was there.”

Clutching the cell in a death grip, Kylie smashed it harder to her ear. Her battered heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. “What do you want?” She tried to sound calm.

A raspy chuckle tore at her eardrums. “Dear Kylie, you do remember what happened ten years ago?”

Silence as her heart now ceased to beat. She pulled the phone from her ear, checked the display. Restricted number glared back.

She pressed the phone to her other ear. “Is this about Camp Golden Rock?” The words stuck in her throat.

A bark of laughter replaced the chuckle. “How many incidents are hidden in your past, Kylie? Could I be talking about anything else?”

Kylie gasped, breath caught in her throat.

“I know I’ve been negligent,” the man continued, “not staying in touch. But for this anniversary I planned something special.”

Struggling to even breathe, Kylie blocked the memories from her thoughts. So many times she’d relived that May night, haunted by the what-ifs and if-onlys. By God’s grace, she’d finally moved on. Put that nightmare behind her.

“Why are you doing this?” she ground out.

“You know how important memories are. Especially the ones that involve death.”

Memories. Anniversaries. Her ten-year class reunion was coming up. As cruel as it seemed, only one explanation made sense: this had to be a prank. A hidden cameraman from some shock-reality show had to be hiding somewhere. Kylie jerked her gaze around the area.

“You won’t find me, Kylie.”

She froze. She was being watched.

“The baggage claim, Kylie. My gift is there. And remember, sweet girl, I’ll never be more than a heartbeat away,” the man calmly whispered. The phone went dead.

Panic jolted every nerve ending in Kylie’s body. Turning on her heel, she rushed back into the terminal and started down the concourse, praying this was a bad joke, but somehow knowing it wasn’t.

Leaving caution behind, she bounded down the escalator two steps at a time, her bulky purse banging against her side. On the bottom level and out of breath, she dashed around the corner and into the main baggage claim. She quickly scanned the area. Empty except for the two rental-car agents chatting behind a counter at the opposite end of the building.

She shifted her attention to the flight-status monitor on the wall. Her nerves settled a bit. The last plane for the evening had landed, but the carousel number had yet to be listed. She breathed easier. Nothing. Thank You, Lord.

She’d seen this before. Some lonely person fascinated with unsolved murders and too much time on their hands. Why not rouse speculation and gain a little notoriety at the same time? And who better to harass than someone who’d been at the camp, a journalist no less? She shook her head.

A screech, thud and a chime resounded, then carousel A’s conveyor belt churned to life.

Kylie turned just in time to see a limp male figure roll down the chute and onto the moving belt.

No, dear Lord, not again.

Instantly, the chill returned. Her extremities turned icy about a second before a curdling cry tore from her throat.

* * *

Former Delta Force captain Nick Bentley barely roused as the aircraft’s front wheels made contact with the runway. The plane bounced, rose in the air and touched down hard again. The final jolt of the impact sent ripples along his spine.

Nick’s eyes flew open. He gripped the metal armrests.

Lights flickered on overhead. The thunder of the outside engines assailed his ears.

As he stiffened against the seat back, Nick’s adrenaline surged, his mind stumbling to keep up. What mission are we on? What destination?

“Welcome to Asheville. The local time is seven thirty-eight,” crackled through the commuter’s speakers.

North Carolina. Nick exhaled heavily as relief swept over him. The nightmare was over.

No more watching over his shoulder.

No more blistering desert heat.

No more death.

Or? Tension grabbed at his gut. Was another nightmare about to begin? He was coming home—something he’d vowed he’d never do.

He glanced out the oval window to his left. Runway lights lent an eerie glow against the passing landscape. An outline of rugged mountains. The evergreen beauty was lost in the darkness and fog, but he could picture it still. Lofty hardwoods and bristly pines. Dense forest he used to love.

The plane rolled to a stop. He hung back, waiting for the few other passengers to deplane, then hefted his army-issued duffel bag onto his shoulder and stepped down the steep aircraft stairs and onto the tarmac. The terminal in front of him was lit brightly, surprisingly welcoming. Small and quaint. No bustling crowds to contend with.

Nothing had changed. That was what he was afraid of.

Three back-to-back tours of Afghanistan and Iraq should have prepared him for anything. So why was his gut twisted in knots?

Temporary assignment, he reminded himself. Once his brother was back on his feet, he’d shake the dust off his shoes and move on. Find someplace to call home.

He repositioned his duffel and headed for the terminal doors. He inhaled deeply, pulling in a lungful of Blue Ridge air. Cool and clean, yet tainted with memories.

* * *

On the ground floor of the main terminal, Kylie stepped aside, allowing a wave of airport security officers a clear path to the baggage-claim conveyor belt and the body sprawled across it.

Two of the officers halted about a yard from the victim and exchanged glances. The older man, shorter and robust, shook his head. His grave expression said it all. The other officer, tall and lanky, craned his neck a bit for a better look but didn’t move any closer.

Nausea spiraled through Kylie’s abdomen. She struggled to breathe as flashes of another crime erupted in her mind. One just as gruesome. The night her classmate and friend Conrad Miller was killed.

“Late twenties, early thirties is my guess,” the tallest officer mumbled after a moment. “Anyone know who he is?” He glanced back at Kylie.

She shook her head. “Not that I can tell.”

Approaching sirens blazed to life behind her. The few onlookers, stragglers from earlier flights, were quickly herded out of the way as paramedics and sheriff’s deputies rushed in.

There was a cacophony of noise. Questions flying, voices escalating around her. The medics gave a quick assessment of the limp male figure lying in a pool of blood, then pulled a sheet from the gurney and covered him. No other measures were needed.

Kylie backed farther away from the scene and leaned against a nearby column. Coolness from the metal trim penetrated her thin jacket, adding to her chill. Fortunately, she’d gathered sufficient facts for a story, along with an elusive phone call. Nothing conclusive, but enough to satisfy her boss, chief news editor Max Dawson. And after a cliffhanger article for the morning paper, she planned to hand the story over to another colleague. Being at the wrong place at the right time—even worse, being the perpetrator’s contact person—didn’t make her the best fit for the story. Hopefully, Max would agree.

“Kylie, tell me again what you know.” Detective Dave Michelson walked toward her, scratching his forehead with the end of his pen.

“I really don’t know much.” Kylie straightened a bit, willing her knees not to buckle. “I came to the airport to drop off my sister and was heading back to my car when I received the phone call.”

“And the man on the phone told you he had a gift for you at baggage claim?”

“Eventually. Yes.”

“Any idea who the caller might be?” Dave started scribbling on a pad.

“No. He spoke with a thick, muffled drawl. And the number came up restricted.”

“Was there anyone else around when the body arrived?”

“Security was right behind me. Tipped off by a caller...or killer.” Just saying the word sent a shiver dancing across her skin.

Dave grunted, shifted his husky frame and kept writing.

“The first security guard at the scene checked for a wallet or ID,” Kylie added, tightening her arms across her chest. “None were found.”

Dave bobbed his head. “No signs of life?”

Her heart fractured. “None. He was bleeding from the neck.”

Eyebrows gathered over Dave’s prominent nose. He didn’t comment, only jotted more notes on his pad.

“Fortunately, security officers secured everything before a crowd formed. Not really a picture that bystanders needed to see.” She knew that from experience.

A grunt again. Dave hadn’t changed since high school. Serial grunts, nods, maybe a raised eyebrow. He only said what he needed to.

“Thanks.” He pocketed his pen and pad.

This time she nodded. There was nothing else to say.

“Incoming bags are on carousel C,” one of the security guards shouted, gesturing to the opposite side of the baggage-claim area for the passengers stepping off the escalator. “Just keep moving.”

There were surprised looks and mumbles from the travelers, but everyone complied, except for one man. He was dressed in fatigues and boots, a duffel draped over his shoulder and a canned drink in his hand. His dark, piercing gaze roved over the scene. And as he stood there, his expression turned dismal.

Kylie’s teeth dug into her bottom lip. She knew that expression. And she would never forget those eyes.

Nick Bentley.

* * *

Nick stared at the scene and nearly lost the burger he’d just devoured. The thread of welcome he’d felt when he arrived evaporated. A déjà vu moment replaced it.

EMS workers strapped the body wrapped in a bloodstained sheet onto the gurney and headed out the door. Three police officers followed and several others remained at the crime scene, talking among themselves and shaking their heads. As they had the night Conrad Miller was murdered.

Ten years ago, Nick’s senior class had taken a trip to nearby Camp Golden Rock. Their last night there, somewhere between eight and nine o’clock, Conrad’s body had been dumped onto the front porch of their cabin. He had been found lying in a small pool of blood, with his throat slashed from ear to ear. Nick swallowed as nausea threatened again. Conrad had taken security patrol that night. It was his job to make sure everyone was out of their cabin and at the bonfire. A mandatory buddy system was in place, but Conrad’s buddy had been late.

Nick still couldn’t forgive himself.

“Nick.”

A wave of panicked voices echoed around him, but the softness of one feminine tone cut through the mayhem, making him almost drop his duffel and the drink that he was carrying. Nick hadn’t been home an hour and already his mind was playing tricks on him. He slowly turned his head and to his surprise, he met Kylie Harper’s warm green gaze. Shoulder-length auburn curls framed her sweet face. Pert nose, slender brows, high cheekbones, luscious full lips. An unmistakable twinge of awareness shot through him, quicker than any bullets he’d dodged in the Middle East.

He blinked, not believing how even after ten years she still struck him as the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. His déjà vu moment got stronger.

“Kylie.” Even saying her name stung. Another part of his life he’d tried to forget.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” She stared up at him and brushed stray locks back with her fingers.

No ring. He couldn’t help but notice.

“Yeah. It’s been a while.” He swung his duffel to the ground, propping his drink can on top. “And a dead body wasn’t exactly the welcome I hoped for.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Shaking her head, she looked up at him, her eyes widening and brimming with tears. “The poor man. No one even knows who he is. Even worse—”

She looked away a moment, took a deep breath.

“Worse?” Nick stuffed his hands into his jacket packets.

Another moment, then her gaze settled back on him, fear in her eyes. “I think Conrad’s killer may be back.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

The knife in Nick’s heart slipped a little deeper. “What do you mean, back? You don’t think—”

Kylie’s nod cut off his words. Déjà vu had just escalated to nightmare.

TWO

At Milkweed Café in downtown Asheville, Kylie gazed at Nick from across the table. He was tall and lean, with a Go Army black T-shirt stretched across his wide shoulders and chest. He looked so mature. Strong features, chiseled just right, and his eyes a deep brown as rich as the cola he was drinking.

As handsome as she dared to remember.

This Delta Force captain left no one in doubt of his capabilities.

A warm comfort swept over her. She still felt safe in his presence.

Nick took a drink and set the glass on the table. “Do you really think this murder is related to Conrad’s?” His deltoid muscles bulged slightly as he eased back into his seat.

Biting the inside of her lip, Kylie shrugged. “That’s the question I keep asking myself. The man on the phone said that he was there the night Conrad died. Although it seems odd—silence for ten years and then...this.”

“Could be a copycat.” Nick crossed his arms against his sturdy chest. “If so, this butcher has done his research and probably knows as much about the crime as we do. Or more.”

“That’s true. I just wish he hadn’t involved me.”

Nick chuckled. “Journalists do attract flakes.”

“Flakes I can handle.” She nodded. “But murderers—”

“You know—” Nick cut her off, sat forward and looked at her, suspicion skewing his features. “In all likelihood, you know this guy.”

Her spine prickled. “What?”

“The murderer. He knew your cell number and that you’d be at the airport. Even knew what time.”

Kylie shivered. The very thought made her skin crawl. “I hadn’t even considered that.”

Nick’s dark brows drew closer. “Who knew you’d be at the airport tonight?”

Leaning on her elbows, she mentally ticked off everyone who might have known her plans to drop off her sister. Her chest tightened at the results. “There’s too many to name. I left work early, so most of my colleagues were aware. Shannon and I went to a church social last night. Lots of people asked when she and the baby were leaving.”

“You never could hide much in this small town.” Nick nodded. “Except possibly murder.”

A boulder-size knot formed in Kylie’s stomach. “I can’t imagine anyone I know being capable of such a terrible crime. Not now or ten years ago.” She dropped her voice several octaves.

Nick touched her arm, sending shivers of a different manner across her skin. “Kylie, predators aren’t obvious. Believe me, I’ve met my share. Sometimes it’s who you’d least expect.”

* * *

The strained expression in Kylie’s eyes ignited a deep burn in Nick’s chest. Breathing deep, the scent of her perfume filtered into his nostrils. Something sweet and subtle. A hundred percent intriguing.

A hundred percent Kylie.

His heart gave a solid kick against his ribs. A few minutes with this woman and already he’d ventured onto dangerous ground. He broke eye contact with her and forced his mixed-up emotions to quiet.

Their dreams of a life together had blown apart with the tragedy at Camp Golden Rock. After that, Nick could barely live with himself, let alone offer anything to Kylie. He’d needed to get away from Asheville, start fresh with nothing to hold him back.

He swirled the liquid in his glass, the ice clinking. An impulsive decision.

But a mistake? He’d never know that for sure.

Now that he was back, one look into Kylie’s eyes and long-buried emotions sparked to life. A jolt of remembered love, but also a tug in his chest that reminded him that those days were over.

The past was behind them. They were older now. Wiser. They had both moved on in very different directions.

The waitress walked by. He held up his hand to catch her attention. “May I get a refill, please?”

The woman nodded and he glanced at Kylie. “Would you like anything? You barely touched your coffee.”

Kylie shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

Though concern shadowed her eyes, her voice came across confident.

Nick’s gut clenched. Seeing her unsettled and worried, his protective instincts surged. The events at the airport had been horrific enough. He shouldn’t have voiced his opinions so quickly. He mentally kicked himself for adding more distress to her day.

The need to comfort her rose. “Don’t rack your brain trying to figure this guy out. He may not be anyone you know. Right now, facts don’t support any theory.” He covered his own concerns with a grin.

A glint of relief entered her eyes. She nodded. “Thanks, that makes me feel better.”

Good. Now if only he could convince himself.

Quiet fell between them. And then Kylie settled back in her chair. “Enough talk about murder. I’d like to give my brain a break, at least until I get home. I have an article due by four.”

He glanced at his watch. Nearly ten o’clock. “Do you need to leave and get started?”

She raked her hand through her long hair, tousling her curls further. “No, I’m fine.”

“Well, then, tell me how you’ve been.” He asked the question that had crossed his mind often over the past ten years.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” Nick nodded and folded his arms, enjoying the view a little too much. Although appreciating a woman’s beauty wasn’t a crime. Even if she was his ex-girlfriend.

Kylie fell silent and picked up her cup and drank deeply from it.

Nick reclined against the seat back, his gaze resting on her as he waited. She must have quite a story to tell. He might be sorry he asked.

* * *

After a moment, Kylie set down her cup with a clink. Ever since high school, her life had gone by in a blur—at least in the romance department, as her parents so readily liked to point out. As if having a husband would solve the world’s problems or create a life of happily ever after. That fairy tale had died a long time ago. Thanks to Nick Bentley.

A sigh crawled up her throat. She swallowed it back. No telling how many relationships Nick had been involved in since they’d split up.

Not that it should matter. She picked up a napkin and dabbed the sides of her mouth. He no longer had any effect on her. She met his eyes, the tenderness in his dark gaze unmistakable. A tingle rippled along her spine.

Okay, maybe a little.

“I’m waiting.” Nick’s gaze sharpened on her face, which she feared was now blushing crimson.

She cleared her throat and spoke. “Well, I attended college at UNC Asheville and graduated with a degree in journalism. And, as you know, I work at the Asheville Daily News.” She folded her hands on the table. “What about you?”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Hey, not so fast.”

She blinked and then swallowed. “That’s about it. Really.”

He arched a dark brow. “No wedding bells or kids?”

She shook her head no.

This time both eyebrows lifted. “No special someone in your life?”

Not anymore. “Nope.”

His smoldering gaze warmed her deep inside. Nick hadn’t changed. He never settled for elusive. Always wanted the whole story and never gave in until he got it—well, except after Conrad’s murder. Her heart squeezed. After that he’d seemed to lose interest in everything. Including her. She took another drink of coffee, bitter against her suddenly dry throat.

Nick ran his hands over his close-cropped hair. “Wow, I thought you’d be married by now. A house. A couple kids.”

At one time she would have expected the same. “I’m only twenty-eight. Not quite an old maid. Although my parents might disagree.”

Nick laughed fully this time, a rumble as deep as a chasm, and charming dimples dented his cheeks. Her heart skipped a beat. “No, I wouldn’t put you in the old-maid category yet. By the way, how are your parents?”

“Enjoying retirement in Florida. My sister and her family joined them last year.”

“And you? Any plans to go?”

“No. Asheville is home. I love it here.”

“That’s what I thought.” He grimaced.

An awful coldness seeped through her, filtering out into her extremities. Nick was still running from the past. Ten long years hadn’t changed that.

Breathing deep, Kylie strove not to let her emotions show. She leaned forward, propped her elbow on the edge of the table and rested her chin in her hand. “Now, tell me about you.”

“Well.” He shrugged. “I’m in town to help out with the family hardware store until Steven is back on his feet. He took it over a few years back when my parents retired and moved to Charlotte to care for my grandfather.”

“That’s right. I heard Steven had been in an accident.”

“Yep. Fell off a bicycle. He rode off a trail trying to impress some new girlfriend with his agile riding skills. Tumbled about twenty feet before briar bushes cushioned his fall.”

Kylie winced. “Not much of a cushion.”

Nick shook his head. “No, not hardly. He broke his left femur and ankle, dislocated his shoulder, and worst of all, the girlfriend ditched him.”

“So sorry.”

“Kind of ironic.” He chuckled. “I’ve dodged bullets in the heaviest war zones in the world and he almost kills himself falling off a bike.”

“I’m sure you’re not going to let him forget that.”

Another chuckle. “No way.”

She hated to ask, but she did. “Any special someone in your life?”

When Nick paused, her heart gave an irrational thump. Her rotten day took another nosedive. Kylie picked up her drink and took a sip, feigning nonchalance. She wanted to be apathetic about Nick, distanced from the pain of a teenager’s broken heart. Whatever infatuation they’d shared had died along with Conrad. It was time to grow up and move—

“No one special,” he finally blurted.

Her heart danced in her chest. She looked up and caught him staring at her. His firm mouth twitched into a smile, deepening the glint in his rich dark eyes.

Heat rose up Kylie’s neck. She hoped he couldn’t read her mind. She managed a stiff smile. “Well, there’s still time. You’re not over-the-hill yet, either.” Crazy to even care.

Silence stretched between them.

She set down her cup and leaned a fraction closer, ready to change the conversation to something less personal. “Tell me about the army.”

“The army.” Nick smiled slightly. Settling back in his seat, he linked his hands behind his head. “Let’s see. I served ten years. During that time, I witnessed too much war, too much destruction and too much death.”

Images of recent news-broadcast footage assembled in Kylie’s mind. Her heartbeat stumbled. She couldn’t believe Nick had been in the middle of that. “Delta Forces, I hear. Pretty intense?”

He nodded his head. “Could be. Even brutal at times. But good came out of it. Lives were saved.”

Admiration for his commitment filled her chest. “Will you be going back?”

“Nope. I’ve done my time.”

Kylie smiled; she couldn’t help it. “Well, you’re quite the hero around here.”

“Hero.” Nick straightened in his chair. His jovial expression turned stormy. “Hero is the last thing I’ll ever be around here.”

* * *

“The story is yours, Kylie.” Max shifted his stance and pulled open the file drawer.

“But Doug Landers is ready to jump in.” Kylie fought off a sigh. “At the moment, I can’t even differentiate between facts and emotions.”

Max pulled several folders from the cabinet and shut the drawer with a clink. “Use it to your advantage. Make the story real. Passion, pain, every emotion will bleed through the pages and grip the readers.”

Great. Kylie exhaled, blowing out slowly. “Reporters are supposed to be objective, Max, not part of the story. I’ll be happy to consult, edit Doug’s draft and even give an interview.”

“It’s yours, Kylie.” Max tossed the files on his desk. “Keep it real. Keep it fresh. Keep it coming. Hopefully, the madman will call again.”

“Uh, thanks. But once was plenty.”

“By the way, I contacted the Asheville police this morning. They’ve got some newsworthy facts waiting for you.”

“Wonderful.” Kylie turned and plodded out the door, praying for patience and a speedy resolution to this murder.

She headed outside and into the bright afternoon sunshine. Max was even crazier than usual. Hoping the killer would call again. She shivered at the thought.

Kylie was still wrestling with annoyance when she parked in front of the municipal building. She pulled her notepad from her satchel and got out of the car. Taking a deep breath, she hiked up her chin and squared her shoulders. Okay. She could do this. She segued into reporter mode, forcing her attention from all discomforting thoughts. If she had to do this assignment, she’d give it her best. She hiked her purse higher on her shoulder and walked into the building.

In the main lobby, she checked in with the clerk and wound her way down the first-floor hall, which teemed with attorneys and their clients, catching snatches of agitated conversation on her way to the elevator. She stepped in and punched the button to the fourth floor. The elevator started to rise, lurched, then ground to a halt. The lights blinked off.

Blackness filled Kylie’s view. Okay. She ordered herself to stay calm. She dug into her purse and captured her phone. With the touch of her finger the cell fired up. She used it as a light to locate the panel of buttons on the wall. She punched four. Nothing. Then she flipped the emergency switch. Same.

Drumming her fingers against the side of her thigh, she waited. Auxiliary power should kick on any moment. Several long moments passed.

She punched the floor button again. Gears screeched, the car rattled, no other movement.

If maintenance was affected by the recent city budget cuts, she was quickly becoming a proponent for higher taxes.

Kylie inhaled, the air already stuffy. She fumbled to punch 911 on her phone and held it to her ear. Silence. No service.

With all the people in the building, maintenance had to have been notified by now. Reasonable thoughts, which rapidly deteriorated with each passing second.

“Anytime now.” She spoke to the emptiness around her.

Lights blinked on.

“Thank you.” She drew in a breath of relief.

The elevator edged up one floor before slamming to a halt, knocking Kylie off-balance. With arms flailing, she reached for the handrail to steady herself, but the car lurched again, the force so great that her feet went out from under her. She went down hard, her bare knees smashing into the floor. Darkness blinded her again.

Lord, I’m getting nervous here. Kylie picked herself up. Clenching the handrail with one hand, she used the other to smooth her skirt.

Pain searing through her, she grabbed for a calming breath.

Music trickled into the car and broke the silence. Eerie and empty as the air around her.

Her heartbeat picked up. For a breathless second, the horror of the previous night suffocated all logic. Never more than a heartbeat away...

The caller’s words ripped through her mind. Panic bottled in her chest, making it hard to breathe. Was he close by? Could he be watching her?

Calm down. She forced her breathing to slow. She’d watched too many old episodes of The Twilight Zone with her sister.

A jolt, then emergency lights flickered on, casting a dull glow around her. The elevator started to rise, steadily ascending, passing the third floor, then the fourth. Kylie stared at the glowing numbers, willing the car to stop. It didn’t matter where, she was getting off.

Halfway between the fifth and sixth floors, the elevator stalled.

Patience evaporated, Kylie slammed her fingers into the buttons on the panel. The elevator inched upward.

Please, Lord, help me get out of here.

She pressed her back into the corner of the car, bracing herself and whispering prayers as her fingers white-knuckled the wooden handrail. She held her breath. A second passed. A pulley squealed. The elevator made a rapid descent, whizzing down the shaft. She closed her eyes, teeth gritted, her pulse thumping steadily in her ears.

Just when she thought all hope was gone, the car stopped and bounced. A scream caught in her throat, shock and fear rising as she lurched forward.

For a frozen moment, Kylie regained her breath and flipped the emergency switch again. Lights flashed for a half second before darkness shrouded her.

“Help!” She startled at the shrill echo of her voice.

Stay calm. Short breaths billowed from her lungs. One moment. Two—not working. “Help me!” She pounded on the wall. “Somebody get me out of here!”

Lights flickered on. The elevator started to ascend. She slumped against the wall again and watched as the blinking numbers above the door rose. Two. Three. Four. The lumbering machine finally ground to a jittery stop. As the heavy doors screeched open, she burst out and collided with a broad uniformed chest.

After a stunned moment, Kylie grasped the situation. She inched back and lifted her gaze. A pair of amused blue eyes stared back at her.

“Hello, Kylie. Are you okay?”

“The elevator.” She gestured behind her before slapping a trembling hand against her rapidly beating chest. “I was trapped. No lights. The elevator stalled, then fell—” She ran out of breath before finishing.

A wrinkle formed between Detective Dave Michelson’s eyes. “Security called about someone stuck between floors. You must have been the one screaming.”

Several other officers stood around him. With shrugs and mumbles, the group dispersed.

Half embarrassed, half relieved, Kylie nodded, and a breath flitted between her teeth.

“I’ve never been trapped in an elevator before,” she mumbled, for a lack of anything better to say.

“It happens sometimes.” Dave scratched beside his nose. “Probably just an electrical malfunction. The maintenance crew is already looking into it.”

Just a malfunction? She forced a nod, her heart still racing.

The day was not shaping up as she’d hoped.

THREE

Inside the municipal building, Nick trekked up the last flight of stairs and stepped onto the fourth floor. As he wandered down the hall toward the police department, the sound of a woman’s anxious tone quickened his steps.

A few weeks ago, he’d left the military and vowed to leave his training behind, live a peaceful life and mind his own business.

Too late. His heart rate sped up and his thoughts churned into full investigative mode.

He rounded the corner, his rapid steps heavy against the wood floor as he entered the elevator lobby. To his surprise, Kylie stood in plain view in front of the elevator. Her glossy dark hair, tied in a ponytail, bounced against her slender neck as she pivoted to look at him.

“Nick.”

He wagged his brows. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

An uncertain smile quivered up at him. An unexpected heat filled his chest. She was getting to him, all right.

“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.”

Readers? 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.”

“Another gift awaits you there.”

Click.

* * *

After a phone call to the police and another call to update Nick, Kylie tossed her cell phone onto the passenger seat and tightened her grip on the steering wheel of her midsize sedan. On a usual spring day there would be another couple hours of daylight left, but nothing about this day was usual. Dark gray clouds hovered low in the sky, heralding an approaching storm, as dismal and menacing as the anxiety clutching her chest.

She took a breath to ease it, reminding herself that she was just following a story. Doing her job.

This wasn’t personal.

She clung to the reassuring thought.

At Adams Gap, Kylie left the parkway and turned down a heavily rutted two-lane dirt road. The Plyler farm had been vacant for the past six years and she hadn’t traveled this path in twice that long. Not since the spring festival, her sophomore year of high school.

An impromptu after-party.

It was a clear, breezy night, she recalled, scented by the crackling fire, a bonfire licking the darkness and strains of music resonating from portable speakers. Blankets and homemade quilts peppered the grass field beside the barn and couples snuggled together to watch an amateur fireworks display put on by fellow classmates.

For most of that year, she had admired Nick from afar. A crush nursed along by his contagious laughter and impish grin. She could still remember the tingle of excitement she’d felt when he’d asked her to be his date. And on that clear May night beneath a star-studded sky, they’d shared their first kiss—a moment that hadn’t gone unnoticed by many of their razzing friends, and a moment she’d never forget.

Up ahead, an old battered stop sign marked the end of the route. Kylie’s car bumped over the uneven road. She made the final turn around a sharp bend. A tingle of relief swept through her when she saw several squad cars already there. Police officers and local deputies swarmed the area, tramping through overgrown weeds and grass. Body-recovering dogs accompanied them.

Goose bumps blazed a trail up her arms.

She swallowed hard, trying to shove back the lump of fear that nearly choked her and failing miserably.

Lord, help me.

* * *

The moment Nick answered his cell phone and heard panic in Kylie’s voice, he jumped out of his office chair, grabbed his keys and bolted out the back exit of the store. There was danger in the air and she was in the middle of it.

He gunned Steven’s motorcycle, his wheels kicking up dirt and gravel, leaving a dusty cloud in his wake. Leaning into the curve, he throttled his bike around the corner and fought against the force of anxiety pressing down on his chest.

His visit to Asheville was supposed to be short, quiet and uneventful.

Not happening.

He slowed his speed as a weather-beaten barn came into view. Jake Plyler’s old farm.

It was time to finally put the fears of the past behind him. Reconnect with family and friends. Help track down and maybe even catch a serial killer. Conrad’s killer. Sweet restitution.

He tried to hold on to the good thoughts, even as he experienced the niggling urge to turn his bike around and hightail it back to the airport. Get out of Asheville and never return.

A temptation he wouldn’t give in to. For Kylie’s sake.

Nick pulled to the edge of the pasture and parked his bike. Several short pieces of rusty, twisted wire projected from a corner post, marking where the fence had once been. He shed his leather gloves and hung his helmet from one of the handlebars. For a long moment he stood there and assessed the scene. In every direction, officers scoured the grounds, flashlights beaming. A helicopter circled above, blazing a path of white light across the dusky sky, and newscasters reported live in front of video-slinging cameramen.

Chaos was the first thought that came to Nick’s mind.

Kylie was the second.

He took off down the gravel drive toward the barn. She was his main concern. His only concern. He was grateful she’d called to keep him in the loop.

“Nick.”

He stopped short as a male voice called his name.

The side door of the barn slammed against the craggy wood siding as Dave Michelson walked out. “You’re just in time.”

“What do you know, Dave?” Nick turned and headed toward him.

“Not much. In fact, we’re batting zero.” Dave put both hands on his hips and a pucker of frustration furrowed his forehead.

“Nothing?” Nick took another look around. The grounds rambled on for acres. Overgrown fields melding with dense forests. Even with the throng of officers there, it could take days to comb the area. The killer’s previous call had contained succinct information. Something didn’t feel right. “Where’s Kylie?”

“On the other side by the paddock.” He tipped his head, gesturing to the area ahead of them. “She’s speaking with some of the other media folks.”

Nick made his way around the barn. Tension in the air stretched as taut as a trip wire. This old farm, now abandoned, spiraled him back to yesteryear and all the bittersweet memories. He’d grown up with Jake, fished in the nearby streams, climbed every tree within reach and even broken his arm jumping from the hayloft on a dare.

He slanted a glance across the field of wild grasses. A sense of loss and nostalgia flooded him. He could still see Kylie, her eyes glinting beneath the faint moonlight, her dark curls rippling in the breeze.

The first night they’d kissed.

An old ache pulled in his chest, a longing coupled with melancholy and regret.

So many memories.

Two reporters brushed passed him and left Kylie leaning against the remains of an old split-rail fence. Distant police spotlights bathed her in a soft glow.

“You okay?” Nick strode closer.

Kylie’s slender shoulders shrugged. “All things considered, I guess. Of course, that will change if another butchered body shows up.”

“Not a good thought, huh?”

She shook her head. He found himself looking into the saddest green eyes he’d ever seen.

“Maybe this time the predator was bluffing.” Nick preferred to dwell on the positive, though he wouldn’t bet on it.

She nodded. “Hope so.”

“What exactly did he say?”

She took a moment. “Another gift was waiting for me here.”

“Gift? Not body?”

Her face pinched. “No, but his last call didn’t specify a body, either. Do you think that matters?”

“Maybe not. But psychopathic minds like order.” Nick scratched his jaw, still looking around. “These lunatics plan thoroughly. They thrive on recognition and once they act, they don’t like to wait long to get noticed.”

Kylie gestured toward the field behind her, teeming with officers and rescue workers. “More chaotic than organized at the moment.”

Nick gave a shrug. “Exactly. Did the caller say anything else?”

The wind had a bite now and distant thunder clapped.

“Fireworks. Cows. The moon.” Kylie burrowed her hands in her coat pockets. “Random stuff. Although enough to lead me here.”

“Random? Maybe. Maybe not.” Nick scratched his jaw. His mind was reeling.

“What are you thinking?”

“That there has to be something behind those clues.”

“I’ve always hated riddles,” Kylie muttered. She tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“I remember.” Nick gave a short chuckle.

The wind kicked up, sighing through the trees; branches snapped and a rusty squeal protested with every gust.

A thought pierced Nick’s mind. He took a step back and squinted to see. Bingo.

“What are you looking at?”

“Hold on.” Nick cupped his mouth and hollered, “Detective Michelson—over here.”

A moment later, Dave rounded the corner in a full sprint, with several officers in pursuit. “Do you have something?”

“Hope so.” Nick thrust out his hand. “Let me borrow your flashlight.”

Dave slapped the Maglite into Nick’s palm.

“What is it?” Kylie’s question died, only to be replaced by a gasp as Nick focused the light on the barn’s roof, illuminating the spinning weather vane. Tarnished and corroded, but without question a tin rendition of a cow over the moon.

* * *

In the dimly lit interior of the barn, Kylie leaned against the rough-sided stall and crossed her arms. The plank structure had been constructed near the turn of the century, built solid and strong to last a lifetime. Good thing, because at the moment her ability to stand on her own was sorely in jeopardy.

From across the barn Nick stepped around stacked bales of rotted hay and came to stand beside her. The white glow emitting from his borrowed flashlight brightened the area around them.

“Dave and his officers are on it. They’ll catch this creep. Try not to worry, Kylie.” Nick’s words sounded reassuring, but they did little to reduce her stress.

She nodded.

In the hayloft above them a team of law-enforcement officers combed through the clutter. Just the thought of another murder victim brought chills. Who was this madman?

She lifted a quick prayer. Lord, protect us and whoever the next victim is.

At the sound of the rhythmic thump against wooden rungs, Nick took a step and brandished his flashlight toward the loft. Dave clumped his way back down the ladder.

“Anything?” Nick’s eager voice echoed back to her.

“Junk. Cobwebs, old lumber, milk buckets, horse tack, a couple old boxes. Dust and more dust.” Dave coughed against the back of his hand.

Relaxing a bit, Kylie pushed away from the stall and ambled up beside Nick. “I thank God there wasn’t a body.” She let go of a long breath.

“Not yet, anyway.” Dave joined them, brushing dirt and dust from his uniform shirt. “The chief just radioed me. They suspended the search for the night. We’ll start up again at dawn and get the National Guard out here with us and see what we can find.”

Kylie’s shoulders tightened again as her mind swung like a pendulum. As much as she hated the idea of stumbling upon another victim, she couldn’t fathom leaving any poor soul, alive or dead, undiscovered. “You can’t give up looking tonight. I mean, what if—”

“Kylie. It’s okay.” Nick moved to her. He slipped his strong arm around her and gave her a reassuring hug.

Instinct warned her not to get too close to this man, but before she could stop herself, she sank into the solid wall of his chest.

“Dave’s right,” Nick continued, his breath feathering warmly against her brow, tenderness and understanding in his tone. “It’s dark. And with the weather moving in, finding anything or anyone out there would be impossible. Not to mention we don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

As she burrowed against him, the comfort of his touch surprised Kylie, even scared her, yet at the same time a sensation of security seeped through her like a healing balm. After considering his rationale, she had to agree he was right. But that didn’t alleviate her concerns of a casualty lying in wait.

A couple more officers tramped down the ladder, cutting into Kylie’s thoughts and bringing clarity to her world.

Pulling away from Nick, Kylie shook off the warmth from his embrace. Years ago she had learned what losing him could do to her heart. She had no plans to go down that path again.

A kick in her chest seemed to object. She hated the way her heart bucked at logic. Squaring her shoulders, she drew fresh air into her lungs, only to inhale the lingering scents of woods, humidity and Nick’s spicy cologne. Rubbing her nose, she tried hard not to focus on Nick or how good it had felt to be in his arms again.

“It’s been a long day. It will be good for you to get some sleep.” Nick’s soft voice brought her back.

Absently she nodded, even as a shiver skidded over her skin at the thought of suspending the search. Tomorrow might be too late.

Dave walked off a few yards from them, speaking to the other officers in low tones. Kylie waited beside Nick; although she wasn’t intentionally trying to listen, snippets of conversation trickled back to her as the officers talked over plans for the next day.

Her heart tripped when she realized they’d given up on finding anything inside the barn.

“Excuse me, detectives.” Her voice escalated with the pounding of her heart. “You’re not ready to give up on the barn already?”

Dave paused and glanced at her beneath the dim lights. “Time is of the essence and we’ve exhausted this search,” he said calmly before turning back to his men.

Kylie took a deep, calming breath. “Do you think they missed anything?” she whispered for just Nick to hear.

He inclined his head and murmured close to her ear, “Even if I did, this is a crime scene and I’m an outsider here. I’m working hard to reserve my opinion and let Dave and his guys do their job. He’s already shared more information than he needed to.”

She pulled away slightly. “But Dave asked for your help.”

“And I’m happy to give it, when he’s ready for it. At the moment he’s working with his team and I don’t want to interfere.”

She blinked at him through the dim light. “The clues the caller gave me definitely point to this barn. Maybe if I remind them of that, they’ll let us take a quick look around.”

Nick’s brows pulled together. “You sure you want to do that?”

Kylie nodded with more confidence than she felt. But she agreed with Nick’s earlier theory. The caller’s cryptic clues probably weren’t random. She needed to see, needed to exhaust this search.

“Come on.” Her legs went to putty, but determination carried her. She grabbed his hand, surprised by his grip. Firm, tight and undeniably possessive.

She groaned inwardly, pushing aside the illogical nostalgia parading through her.

Dave wasn’t as quick to agree as Kylie suspected; in fact he didn’t see the point, since they’d scoured the place already. But after a little rationalizing and a lot of insistence, he agreed to accompany them to the hayloft. As he’d described, dust and clutter filled the cramped space. After Mr. and Mrs. Plyler died several years ago, the children had scattered, moving to different parts of the country. They were still fighting over the estate. The hundred-plus acres, including the barn, sat untouched. And it showed.

The high-intensity beams of flashlights cast distorted shadows across the area, adding to the oppressive climate of the evening, which made staying close to Nick a necessity.

“There’s nothing up here,” Dave grumbled under his breath.

Nick didn’t stop his investigation. He pushed aside dangling cobwebs and flashed his light into every nook and cranny. Kylie moved along beside him, although quickly coming to the same conclusion as Dave.

“Look at this.” Nick knelt down and directed his light on the side of a small box. Big Sky Fireworks Company. Sumter, SC.

He slipped on the latex gloves Dave had given him and looked over at Kylie, his eyes narrowing. “Start taking notes, Reporter Harper. I think we’ve just hit pay dirt.”

Emotion lumped in Kylie’s throat. She gave a short nod.

With expert precision, Nick carefully peeled back each flap of the box.

The rush of blood pounding in Kylie’s ears merged with the roar of distant thunder. She tried not to jump, tried not to breathe.

Dave came up beside her and glanced over her shoulder. “Looks like nothing more than a bunch of old papers.”

Nick picked through the loose pages and pulled a bundle from underneath. “Shine your light over here, Dave.”

Dave targeted his flashlight on the bound file in Nick’s hands.

Nibbling her lip, Kylie watched carefully as Nick slipped off a rubber band and the bulging folder popped open. Dozens of rough-cut newspaper articles and photos flew into the air before scattering onto the uneven loft floor at Nick’s feet.

Setting the empty folder aside, Nick started collecting the documents on the floor.

Kylie gasped and her body went rigid when she realized she was looking at articles she’d written, along with four-by-eight black-and-white prints—of her.

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