back again. After a seeming eternity, he cleared his throat. “Well, if you don’t know Mr. Crosby, the killer may have planted this, too.”
“Planted what?” She was almost afraid to ask.
Dave tugged a small photo from the wallet’s plastic sleeve.
Squinting at the picture, it took a moment before Kylie recognized her own high-school graduation photo.
Kylie stared, dismayed, as her blood turned to ice, sending an unwelcome shiver dancing up her spine. “Why is this happening?”
Nick shook his head. “Don’t let this get to you. Think of it as the predator’s calling card. He’s letting us know he was responsible. One more clue. That’s what you need to remember.” His voice was low, but firm.
Tears of disbelief nearly blinded Kylie. Stunned, she nodded.
Logically, that statement sounded reasonable. Emotionally, nothing did.
* * *
Late that same evening, Nick sat at his brother’s kitchen table, his hand cupped around a mug of coffee. As he looked over the updated flowchart on the table in front of him, a menacing ache filled his chest. He still had no conclusive evidence.
Serial killers were smart, crafty and patient, so the lack of clues shouldn’t surprise him. He set down his nearly empty mug and lifted a hand to massage his left temple. There had to be something he was missing. And that something was driving him crazy.
So far the only fact he was certain of was that there was a maniac out there who had access to Kylie.
Chills marched down the length of his arms as that thought rooted in his mind. It had to be someone she knew. One of their high-school classmates could be the culprit. Or even a friend from church, a coworker or a neighbor. Then again, there was her editor.
Nick applied more pressure to his temple, rubbing vigorously. Or the man in the moon.
He bumped a fist against the table. Facts. He needed facts. Something to zero in on. He hated maybes and at the moment, that was all he had. He shoved back from the table and rose. The back of his chair smacked into the wall.
“Still nothing?”
The softness of Kylie’s voice had its usual calming effect on him and the evening suddenly got brighter.
Nick swung his head to the doorway and stared at her, bundled in her chenille robe, the hem of silky pajama pants brushing against her ankles. She had scrubbed her face clean, wet curls framing her face. He drew a deep breath, feeling strangely rejuvenated at her relaxed demeanor and simple beauty. She was a sight to behold.
“Slow progress.” He worked up a small grin.
When her lips parted into a smile, his heart warmed a little more.
Rising, he strode toward her. “With all the chaos since I’ve been here, I haven’t had a chance to tell you how beautiful you still look.”
Kylie shook her head, tugged the sash on her robe. “Oh, Captain Bentley, you are definitely sleep deprived.”
“Nope. I noticed the moment I saw you. You haven’t changed at all.”
The twitch of humor at the corners of Kylie’s lips slowly turned into a full-fledged grin. “Well, outside of a few extra pounds, maybe.”
In all the right places. Nick caught himself before that comment slipped out.
“Actually, you look pretty good yourself.” Kylie braced one shoulder against the archway wall and crossed her arms. The collar of her pink robe inched up, nestling lightly at the base of her neck and complimenting the cherry flush on her cheeks. “Although I’d hoped that by now you might be touting a nice burly paunch. Or at least have a few wiry hairs protruding from your ears or nostrils.”
He laughed, completely understanding. A big wart on her nose might have been just the thing to keep his haywire emotions on track. But then again...probably not. He cleared his throat and refocused. “Sorry to disappoint you. Give me a couple decades, and my midsection and extraneous whiskers should be thriving.”
Laughter gleamed in her crystal-green eyes. That was another thing about Kylie he remembered,
“Planted what?” She was almost afraid to ask.
Dave tugged a small photo from the wallet’s plastic sleeve.
Squinting at the picture, it took a moment before Kylie recognized her own high-school graduation photo.
Kylie stared, dismayed, as her blood turned to ice, sending an unwelcome shiver dancing up her spine. “Why is this happening?”
Nick shook his head. “Don’t let this get to you. Think of it as the predator’s calling card. He’s letting us know he was responsible. One more clue. That’s what you need to remember.” His voice was low, but firm.
Tears of disbelief nearly blinded Kylie. Stunned, she nodded.
Logically, that statement sounded reasonable. Emotionally, nothing did.
* * *
Late that same evening, Nick sat at his brother’s kitchen table, his hand cupped around a mug of coffee. As he looked over the updated flowchart on the table in front of him, a menacing ache filled his chest. He still had no conclusive evidence.
Serial killers were smart, crafty and patient, so the lack of clues shouldn’t surprise him. He set down his nearly empty mug and lifted a hand to massage his left temple. There had to be something he was missing. And that something was driving him crazy.
So far the only fact he was certain of was that there was a maniac out there who had access to Kylie.
Chills marched down the length of his arms as that thought rooted in his mind. It had to be someone she knew. One of their high-school classmates could be the culprit. Or even a friend from church, a coworker or a neighbor. Then again, there was her editor.
Nick applied more pressure to his temple, rubbing vigorously. Or the man in the moon.
He bumped a fist against the table. Facts. He needed facts. Something to zero in on. He hated maybes and at the moment, that was all he had. He shoved back from the table and rose. The back of his chair smacked into the wall.
“Still nothing?”
The softness of Kylie’s voice had its usual calming effect on him and the evening suddenly got brighter.
Nick swung his head to the doorway and stared at her, bundled in her chenille robe, the hem of silky pajama pants brushing against her ankles. She had scrubbed her face clean, wet curls framing her face. He drew a deep breath, feeling strangely rejuvenated at her relaxed demeanor and simple beauty. She was a sight to behold.
“Slow progress.” He worked up a small grin.
When her lips parted into a smile, his heart warmed a little more.
Rising, he strode toward her. “With all the chaos since I’ve been here, I haven’t had a chance to tell you how beautiful you still look.”
Kylie shook her head, tugged the sash on her robe. “Oh, Captain Bentley, you are definitely sleep deprived.”
“Nope. I noticed the moment I saw you. You haven’t changed at all.”
The twitch of humor at the corners of Kylie’s lips slowly turned into a full-fledged grin. “Well, outside of a few extra pounds, maybe.”
In all the right places. Nick caught himself before that comment slipped out.
“Actually, you look pretty good yourself.” Kylie braced one shoulder against the archway wall and crossed her arms. The collar of her pink robe inched up, nestling lightly at the base of her neck and complimenting the cherry flush on her cheeks. “Although I’d hoped that by now you might be touting a nice burly paunch. Or at least have a few wiry hairs protruding from your ears or nostrils.”
He laughed, completely understanding. A big wart on her nose might have been just the thing to keep his haywire emotions on track. But then again...probably not. He cleared his throat and refocused. “Sorry to disappoint you. Give me a couple decades, and my midsection and extraneous whiskers should be thriving.”
Laughter gleamed in her crystal-green eyes. That was another thing about Kylie he remembered,
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