Smoky Mountain Investigation (2 page)

“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

A
t 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.”