Smoky Mountain Investigation. Annslee Urban

      “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