Smoky Mountain Investigation by Annslee Urban Page A

venture. Nonetheless, she couldn’t let go of one nagging thought: for the stalker to have a photo anthology of her the way he did, he had to live in Asheville and she obviously knew him.
    Someone discreet, ordinary and inconspicuous.
    Those characteristics described almost anyone in her social circle or workplace. Adding malicious or dangerous to the list didn’t cause a hint of revelation.
    With a sigh, she sat up, plumped her pillow and lay back down, resting one arm behind her head. She stared into the darkness, confident of the Lord’s presence, yet fearful that at any moment her cell phone would ring and the nightmare would begin again.
    Rolling to her side, she picked up her cell, which had been charging on the lamp table, and checked her phone log. No missed calls, which suited her fine. She placed it back on the table before she gave in to the temptation to switch it to vibrate and forget about Dave’s request for her to keep her phone turned on and accessible. Since this stalker seemed driven to gain her attention, everyone investigating the case expected him to call.
    In truth, so did she.
    Kylie yanked the blankets to her chin, warding off the chill that the thought brought. Closing her eyes, she started to pray. After endless moments, a cozy warmth wrapped around her, a welcome reprieve.
    Hours later, somewhere between somnolence and slumber, a vigorous ring punctuated her foggy consciousness.
    Kylie jerked up and pulled away from the warmth of her bed. Disoriented and breathing rapidly, she glanced around, clutching the thin bedsheet to her chest, wondering if she was awake or still dreaming.
    The soft light of dawn streamed through the sheer window covering. She blinked and caught her breath, grappling to catch up, focus. Even as her thoughts became more lucid, all she wanted to do was sink back down and snuggle beneath the blankets.
    The brisk ring came again, awakening her fully.
    Her pulse sprinted. Fears came tumbling back, of death and stalkers, a perpetrator on the loose.
    Was that him now?
    The very thought made it hard for her to breathe. She snatched up her cell phone and checked the display. Restricted flashed across the screen.
    Closing her eyes, she pressed the cell to her ear. Ready. She had to be ready. “Hello.” She cleared her voice. A prayer caught in her throat. Lord, help me.
    “Kylie. Are you up?”
    With a rapid exhale, Kylie crumpled against the headboard. “Max, you scared me to death.”
    A hearty chuckle. “Not quite to death.”
    “Close enough. Why is your phone coming up restricted?”
    “It’s my personal line at home. Sorry to call so early, but I wanted to get the lowdown on last night.”
    “Last night? Didn’t you get a copy of the article I sent to the managing editor?”
    “Of course. Headline news. Front and center on the morning press. But I wanted to know the behind-the-scenes story. Who do you suspect?”
    Kylie rubbed at her forehead, the evident birth of a major headache. “No one.”
    “Come on. You have to suspect someone. Ten years’ worth of pictures?”
    “And every published article I’ve written.”
    “Creepy.”
    “Very much so.”
    A pause. Max at a loss for words? Impossible.
    Finally “And you suspect no one?”
    Kylie sighed, rubbing her head harder. “Nada.”
    “Well, then, kiddo, dig deep and think about it. Keep me posted when you hear from that psychopath again.”
    She shuddered. “Maybe he won’t call again. Maybe he’s had enough fun for another ten years?”
    “You want this monster on the loose for another ten years?”
    She didn’t want him loose for another ten seconds. “Of course not.”
    “The cops installed a tracking device on your phone, didn’t they?”
    “They did.”
    “Then let’s pray he calls.”
    “Sure, Max.”
    Max hung up and Kylie tapped the cell phone against her chin. He was right, of course, but that didn’t make waiting for a crazy man’s call any easier.
    She slipped back under her