Smoky Mountain Investigation (13 page)

She cleared her throat, pulled her mind back on track. “And what happens when this case is solved?”

“What do you mean?” Nick stared down at her, the smooth lines on his brow pleated.

“Well.” She swallowed the rising lump in her throat and continued, “The other day you mentioned that Steven’s recovery was going better than expected. If he’s able to get back to work by the time this murder case is solved, will you be leaving?”

Leaning against the column in the living room, Nick crossed one ankle over the other and nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s the plan. But honestly, I haven’t been much help to Steven yet. I might hang around awhile and make sure he doesn’t need anything. Then after I tie up a few loose ends, I’ll figure out where to head next.”

His quick acknowledgment knocked her off-balance. Not that she expected he’d changed his mind about leaving. She narrowed an eye on him. “Those loose ends wouldn’t by chance involve Lindsay?”

Nick flashed her a baffled look. “Lindsay?”

Heat swarmed Kylie’s cheeks, but she kept her chin up. “Lindsay Potter.”

His dark eyebrows lifted. “What would make you think that?”

Kylie thought furiously, trying to figure out the best way to answer him without sounding like a meddling ex-girlfriend. It took only a moment before she realized there wasn’t one. Or a good reason she’d asked the question in the first place.

Impulsivity. Would she ever learn? “Well, I thought you and Lindsay developed a nice rapport today.”

Nick spurted out a booming laugh.

Okay. Maybe she was wrong.

“Actually, I was grateful when you finally interrupted her.”

“Oh.”

Straightening and fastening his hands more firmly on his hips, Nick looked at Kylie with such an amused grin that she couldn’t help but grin back at him. “So you really thought I’d be interested in a woman like Lindsay?”

She shrugged. “She’s cute and she’s friendly.”

“Come on, Kylie. You know me better than that. I’ve never been one for forward and flashy women.”

He was assuming a lot. After ten years of no contact, how could she know who or what he liked these days? She probably was better off not knowing.

Another shrug. “Sorry. Just checking.”

He sent her another killer grin and her heart slipped again. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“No problem.” Not her entire motive, but at least she’d sleep a little easier tonight.

ELEVEN

F
or the first time since Nick had arrived back in Asheville, the dread that had taken root in his gut had started to subside. He’d even had second thoughts about having breakfast with Kylie that morning at one of their old haunts, but that had turned out to be more enjoyable than stressful.

Pleasant memories were slowly trickling back to life, even with ongoing thoughts of Conrad’s murder in the forefront of his mind. Something he hadn’t considered possible.

Now, if he could just do something about Kylie’s stalker.

With a sigh, Nick shifted his six-foot-two frame, stretching out on the couch in Steven’s living room, trying to find a more comfortable position. An exercise in futility, he decided. Sofas weren’t designed for someone his size. That was what beds were made for. Something he wasn’t going to see tonight. He punched his pillow, curled it into a ball and shoved it back under his head.

Though he shouldn’t complain—over the years he’d bunked in far worse accommodations.

With all the happenings over the past few days, he needed to be close to Kylie. And staying next door wasn’t an option. Even his brother’s room, on the opposite side of the house from where Kylie was sleeping, seemed too far away. Especially if she needed him. He could only imagine what the brazen stalker had in mind next.

Clearing his thoughts before his overactive imagination robbed his sleep, Nick rolled to his side and tugged up his bedsheet.

Hours later, he woke to the savory scent of bacon and coffee. With some effort, he sat up and swung his feet onto the floor. Morning light filtered in through the partially cracked window blinds. Squinting, he shielded his eyes and inhaled, pulling in the mouthwatering scent. Now fully awake, he smiled, thankful he wasn’t imagining it.

He stood to arch his back, tight after his cramped sleeping position on the couch. After giving his limbs a good stretch, he dressed quickly and walked to the kitchen.

And there Kylie was. Busy at the stove, her back to him.

Hovering at the doorway, Nick took his time and studied her. Sunlight spilled in through the small window over the sink, accentuating the red and gold highlights in her hair. She wore a fitted denim dress with a dish towel tied around her waist as a makeshift apron and a pair of fuzzy slippers on her feet. An odd clothing combo, but Kylie Harper could pull it off.

Still a beauty, in every sense of the word.

“Good morning,” he said finally.

Kylie spun to face him, a spatula in her hand. Her eyes widened as she audibly exhaled. “Nick, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He shot his arms up in mock surrender. “Sorry. Blame it on the army. They trained us to walk silently. This gait took me years to perfect. Now I guess it’s just second nature.”

She gave him an appreciative grin. “When there’s an enemy around, I suppose it’s a good thing.”

He returned the smile and lowered his hands. “It has come in handy a time or two. But if you’d like, I could give a whistle or maybe a yodel as a warning next time.”

“I prefer a nice drumroll, but do what you can.” She blinked up at him, a teasing gleam in her eyes.

He lifted a brow. “By the way, I don’t think that spatula of yours would do much in the way of intimidation.”

Kylie glanced at the plastic utensil in her hand. “I don’t know. I have a pretty wicked tennis swing.” Biting her lip, she gave a little demonstration.

Laughter rumbled deep in his chest as he settled into a chair at the table. “I think some pepper spray might be in order. I’ll pick some up today.”

“You may be right.” Kylie turned back to the stove. “I hope Steven doesn’t mind, but I found some bacon and eggs and sourdough bread. I decided to make breakfast. Do you still like French toast?”

Was she kidding? “Still one of my favorites. But don’t tell me you’re willing to stray from your infamous spinach omelet and wheat toast?”

“I’m more flexible at home.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

At home—with Kylie.
Interesting concept, a fleeting thought that quickly abated. He didn’t have a home anymore. With his vagabond past, he doubted he’d ever find a place to call home again.

“Kylie, what can I do to help you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kylie dropped her gaze and forked another bite of food.

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

He didn’t blame her.

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

He hated being late for anything. Especially for her.

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

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

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

“Busy day for you, too?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be ready.”

* * *

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

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

Suffolk.
That was what she’d thought.

She turned back to the computer and started typing.

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

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

Kylie picked up typing again.

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

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

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

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

Another sound drifted toward her. Soft footfalls?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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