Smoky Mountain Investigation (14 page)

Who was this maniac?

“Kylie, come out, come out wherever you are.” The man’s singsong voice echoed in her ears.

On second thought, she didn’t want to know.

A stream of light flashed again, erratically zigzagging through the narrow space. Squeezing her lips tight to keep from making a sound, she stayed low. Her eyes followed the trail of the light. For a fleeting second it landed on a door a few yards away.

Hope expanded her chest.

Darkness fell again. A retreating set of footsteps echoed. The beam of light flashed in the opposite direction.

She had no time to lose. She crawled along the cold tile floor, mentally measuring the distance as she paused every two to three feet to feel out her surroundings. Finally her fingers brushed a doorknob.

Holding her breath, she clenched the knob and twisted it slowly, relieved that it wasn’t locked.
Thank You, Lord!

She wrenched the heavy door open just enough to slip inside. A loud clink boomed through the silence as the metal door slammed shut.

Frantically, she twisted the lock. Heavy footfalls echoed from outside.

Pulling out her cell phone, she used the light to probe the area.

The storage closet housed stacks of old chairs and file cabinets and other obsolete supplies.

“Kylie, I know you’re in there.” The doorknob rattled but the lock held. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice sounded muffled and distorted and sent her blood pressure skyrocketing.

Yeah, right.
Dropping everything, Kylie scrambled to one of the file cabinets. Mustering every ounce of her strength, she pressed against it, pushing the tall metal cabinet in front of the door.

Then, gathering her belongings, she crumpled onto a wooden pallet in the corner of the room and worked to catch her breath. As her heart squeezed out a silent prayer, her initial fears began to ebb. Either that or she was just too exhausted to care. She turned down the volume on her cell phone and punched in 911. She updated the dispatcher, praying the police wouldn’t take long.

Then she keyed in Nick’s number.

Nick picked up right away. She breathed easier. “Nick—”

Before she could get another word out, he started rambling. “Sorry. A cashier had an issue with the cash register, and I got tied up helping him. But I’ll be there in a moment. You can’t believe what kind of day I had—”

“Nick. Please listen,” Kylie whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Kylie, what’s wrong?”

“I’m in the basement of the newspaper building. There’s a door leading in from the parking lot.”

“The basement? What are you doing there?”

“My stalker...the serial killer...he’s here.”

“What?”

“I locked myself in a storage room.”

“Did you call the police?”

Kylie swiped at the perspiration prickling her brow. “Yes, they should be on their way.”

“I’m almost at your office now. Is the stalker still there?”

A fist pounded on the door.

Her heart lurched. Panic rose again. “Yes!”

TWELVE

N
ick flew into the lot, tires squealing against the asphalt. Slamming on the brakes, he parked and jumped out of Kylie’s car, still on the phone with a 911 operator. “Ma’am, Kylie Harper already called, but I just want to reiterate that she’s in the basement of the
Asheville Daily News
building and the police need get over here now!”

Racing across the parking lot, he glanced right, then left, his gaze sweeping along the length of the brick building like a searchlight. Where was that door?

Toward the east side of the property, the land began to veer off, the slope becoming steep. Frustration rising, he stopped, assessed the scene, made a decision. He headed into a thick stretch of forest. He elbowed past bushes and fir trees as twigs and underbrush snapped beneath his boots, and made his way to the back of the building.

In his mind’s eye Kylie’s face appeared. He mentally kicked himself for being late. Once again, he’d let her down. Like he had Conrad.

He’d been dropped into the heaviest war zones in the world. He’d saved lives, made a difference. Home in Asheville, he was nothing more than a hazard.

Gnashing his teeth, Nick forced his brain off that track. No time for self-pity.

Through the trees he spotted a small parking lot and beyond that the building’s loading dock, with several large metal overhead doors. Was that what Kylie had been talking about?

His question was answered as he broke into the clearing and caught a glimpse of the security door lost in the afternoon shadows.

He lengthened his stride, making for the door.

* * *

At the sound of keys jingling, Kylie shot to her feet. The lock rattled. Her nerves were back on alert.

This man had to be someone who worked for the paper. One of her colleagues.

A second passed; the doorknob twisted and creaked.

Heart in her throat, she threw her weight against the file cabinet as the heavy door cracked open, meeting resistance.

“Kylie, sweet Kylie, you are making this difficult.”

No kidding.
Pressing a shoulder to the cabinet, she strained, pushing with all her might as the man on the other side of the door used his strength to push against her.

For several long moments the reverse tug-of-war continued. As she made a desperate attempt to hold her ground, the heel of her shoe caught on a crack in the concrete floor. Her foot slipped and she thudded onto her hands and knees. Reacting fast and breathing hard, Kylie regained her footing, but not before the cabinet slid into the room several inches.

A distorted chuckle filled the air. Her heart leaped and she gulped for air.

With adrenaline spurring her on, she braced herself, threw her weight against the cabinet again and pushed harder.

* * *

At the back entrance to the building, Nick yanked on the metal knob once and when the security door didn’t budge, he switched gears. He’d broken into more secure buildings than this, although not without the help of explosives. Still, he knew what he had to do.

Grabbing a wooden plank from the landing dock, he used it as a battering ram. Repeatedly, he thrust the blunt end of the lumber against the door lock. Pieces of metal cracked and shards flew in every direction. Using his pocketknife, Nick ripped loose the remnants of the handle, tossing them to the side.

A moment later, he pulled the door open. No alarm sounded. So much for security.

Light filtered through the doorway, breaking up the darkness and affording him a look around before he made his next move. Ahead of him, the small hallway ended and split into three directions. He took a step, listening closely. Two more steps and he heard a muffled sound to his right.

Nick flattened his back to the wall and moved slowly, carefully along the painted brick to the end of the hall. Instinctively, he ran a hand over the holster on his belt where he kept his revolver. Instead of his gun, his fingers wrapped around the leather case of his cell phone. Not a surprise, but his heart still sank a little.

He poked his head around the corner. A crack split the air. He pulled back as the whistle of a bullet shot past him. This guy wasn’t playing.

Nick took a moment and thought how to proceed. No weapon. No backup—yet. He cupped his hand around his mouth and shouted, “Law enforcement is on the way. Do yourself a favor and give up now!”

Not really a threat, but he wanted the guy to do something crazy, make a mistake.

Another bullet whizzed through the air, echoing around the dead air.

Adrenaline scorched through Nick like wildfire. He wanted this guy.

Dropping to the floor, he belly crawled out into the corridor and made his way deeper into the building.

Seconds ticked by, but nothing happened, then another burst of gunfire rang out. Nick rolled several times, halting when he got to the entranceway of a closed office. He pulled himself up to one knee. “Give it up, creep!”

Silence. Then another shot sprayed toward him, burrowing into the wall beside his head.

Pulling back, he wedged himself into the narrow entranceway and caught his breath.

Retreating footsteps followed.

Nick kept his back plastered to the wall and waited an interminable length of time. Gradually, the footfalls faded. Then he got to his feet. His gut told him the coward was on the run. No great shock.

But what had he done with Kylie?

Fear raced through him. Nick hoped his tardiness hadn’t caused Kylie any harm, or worse—

Gritting his teeth, he refused to allow his mind to stray in that direction.

Heart hammering, Nick edged into the main corridor, keeping his back flush to the wall just in case he was wrong and the killer was hanging around to finish the job. Dimness bled into darkness as he moved down the hallway.

Sirens blared in the distance, announcing the arrival of the police. If Kylie’s stalker was still around, he’d heard them, too. Then it hit him. The creep probably had gotten away.

Frustration wrenched in Nick’s chest, but he kept moving, curling his fingers into his palm. No matter what, he would find this guy. If not today, soon. Very soon.

Halting a moment, Nick took a chance and hollered, “Kylie!”

Silence answered him. No bullets. No Kylie. He took out his cell, dialed her number. No service. He had to be in a dead zone.

As lights flickered on, voices shouting orders came from behind him, along with footsteps thudding down the hallway. A glance over his shoulder caught three vested police officers rushing toward him, weapons drawn.

Nick gestured up ahead to the opposite end of the corridor. “I heard him running in that direction.” His hand itched to curl his fingers around his revolver. He’d never thought he’d miss carrying a weapon.

Then again, he’d never thought he’d be chasing after murderers again.

One officer nodded as the trio scurried past him down one corridor and veered off into another.

“Where’s Kylie?” Dave trailed the others, out of breath.

“Don’t know. But I’m going to find her.” Nick started moving again.

“I don’t think that’s wise, Nick. You’re not even armed. This guy could be dangerous.”

A fact Nick was well aware of. He stopped, glanced back. “I’m not walking out of here without her, Dave.”

Dave caught up with him, tapped his holster. “I’ll be right with you.”

“Thanks.” Nick picked up his pace. Not that it made much difference. He knew the mind of a psychopath. If there was a way out of there, this guy was long gone. He wasn’t about to give up willingly. Escaping added to his adrenaline rush. This kind of criminal had to be caught in the act.

* * *

Kylie thanked God that at the sound of crashing metal, her pursuer gave up on trying to bust into the room. She finally managed to barricade the door again. This time more securely, using every article of furniture she could physically move. Having the lights on made things easier.

She leaned against one of the cabinets, swiping driblets of sweat from her brow and willing her pulse into submission. Her energy was about sapped, a complete contradiction to her racing heart rate.

Silence in the air settled around her. Several minutes had passed since she’d heard the last shot. It unnerved her to think the shots might have been aimed at Nick. She prayed he was safe. And as much as she longed to pick up her cell and call him, she wouldn’t dare for the fear of giving away his position.

Terrible dread washed over her. What if Nick wasn’t hiding? What if one of the bullets had hit him?

Her legs suddenly felt like pudding. She steadied herself against the cabinet.
Lord, please protect him. And
g
et us both out of here.

“Kylie!”

A distant voice echoed.

Hurriedly, she clambered up one chair to another and then on top of one of the cabinets, pressing her ear to the metal door. She wasn’t about to respond to just anyone.

The call came again. Her heart leaped. It was Nick.

“I’m in here!” She pounded on the door.

Seconds later a heavy fist thumped on the opposite side. “Kylie, are you in there?”

“Yes.” She shimmied down the side of the cabinet and twisted the lock. “I have the door barricaded. Hold on for a few minutes. I need to get everything out of the way.”

“Okay. I’m right here waiting for you.”

She couldn’t be more grateful for that. She got right to work and as she pushed the last heavy cabinet out of the way, the door flew open. Tears of relief nearly blinded her as she ran to Nick and fell into his arms.

* * *

Outside the air was thick with humidity, the hum of katydids competing with chirping crickets and the distant banter of the law-enforcement officers from three counties that combed the adjacent forest and surrounding area.

Nick stood beside Kylie in the parking lot, surrounded by more people than he cared to count. Dave was among the other nameless police detectives, sheriff’s deputy investigators and county inspectors, some in uniform, some not. Even Kylie’s boss, Max, had felt the need to race over to lend moral support when he heard the news.

And the press had also arrived in droves to capture the latest news on Asheville’s serial killer or spring butcher—two titles Kylie’s stalker now officially owned.

Nick thumped his temple against a brewing headache. The gang was all here.

For the umpteenth time, Kylie recounted her twenty minutes of terror.

Nick caught her glance and sent her a reassuring smile. She looked as exhausted as he felt.

For the past hour the team of officers had drilled her. Questions came from all around; every investigator in the circle took their turn, surmising, inquiring, rephrasing, and from the beginning until now, Kylie’s account had never changed. Long story short, she hadn’t seen the shooter and, no, she would not be able to pick him out in a lineup.

Nick looked around, scowling when he realized how off track the conversation had gotten. They were hypothesizing what type of shoes the psychopath might have been wearing.