Colorado Abduction (6 page)

The next morning after she showered and dressed, Carolyn went downstairs to the kitchen where Polly had four burners and a grill fired up. With the efficiency of a short-order cook, she assembled breakfast burritos and wrapped them in foil. “Good morning, Carolyn. Hungry?”

“All I want is coffee.”

Though she was trying hard not to show her agitation, her insides churned like a washing machine. She couldn’t stop thinking about the sabotage, the list of enemies and the million things she needed to do today. Most of all, she was concerned about Nicole.

“How are you holding up?” Polly asked.

“I’m worried.” Carolyn filled a mug from the coffee urn. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m sorry I missed Thanksgiving.”

“It was quite a feast,” Polly said. “I even made that oyster dressing that Nicole likes so much. I don’t think anybody else took a bite of it.”

“Cowboys don’t eat sushi. Or anything that resembles it.” She sipped her mug, amazed that Polly could make gallons of coffee in an urn taste like custom brew. “How’s Juan doing?”

“My husband is full of energy this morning. He walked
down to the bunkhouse. Using his cane, of course.” She paused her whirlwind of activity to pat Carolyn on the cheek. “We’ve all got to keep up our strength. Now, what can I get you to eat?”

Her stomach was far too tense to consider food. “Just coffee for now. But I’ll be back.”

Taking her mug, she went down the hall to the office, looking for Dylan or Burke. Instead, she found Lucas, Neville and the new kid, MacKenzie. They’d set up a whiteboard with some kind of schedule. One of Dylan’s detailed topographical maps was spread on the coffee table with chess pieces scattered across it.

MacKenzie jabbered into a walkie-talkie. His language was vaguely military, using terms like “Roger that” and “Bravo team” and “Boots on the ground.”

“What’s this?” she asked as she pointed to the whiteboard.

“A surveillance schedule,” Lucas explained. “We set up a perimeter. All these chess pieces on the map are different guys. Neville used to be in the Secret Service. He showed us how to maximize our security.”

Neville, the Longbridge security guard, gave a sheepish shrug. “As you can see on the hour-by-hour schedule, I’ve worked in downtime so the men can rest, but nobody wants to take a break.”

“Cowboys aren’t always good at following orders,” Carolyn said. “Too damned independent.”

“So I’ve learned,” Neville said.

Lucas chuckled. “I’ll tell you what, there ain’t going to be nobody taking potshots at this ranch house.”

Which still didn’t put them any closer to finding Nicole. She turned to MacKenzie. With his brown hair flopping over his forehead and freckles across his nose, he looked about twelve years old. “Where did you get the walkie-talkie?”

“I found them,” Lucas said. “Remember a few years back, before everybody got cell phones, we tried using these things. Didn’t work too good.”

She remembered. Several of the walkie-talkies got lost or thrown away, mostly because the men didn’t like having somebody check up on them. Consensus among the ranch hands had been that the old ways of communication were the best. Everybody had cell phones now, which were mostly kept turned off unless a cowboy on the range wanted to make a date with his honey in Riverdale.

MacKenzie obviously enjoyed this opportunity to play G.I. Joe. He turned away from her and spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Listen up, y’all. HQ is awake and on the move.”

Amused, Carolyn asked, “What does that mean? HQ?”

“We gave everybody nicknames,” MacKenzie said. “You know, like the real Secret Service. When they talk about the President, they call him POTUS. It stands for President Of The United States.”

“I thought HQ would mean headquarters. Is it a person?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s you.”

She glanced over at Lucas and Neville who appeared to be doing their best not to laugh. “What does that stand for? HQ?”

“That’s not important.” MacKenzie looked a bit scared. “We had to come up with a whole lot of code names really fast. Like your brother. He’s BB for Big Boss. And Burke is TF for Tall Fed.”

“And HQ?”

“Ma’am, it stands for Heifer Queen. And that’s not saying you’re a cow or a heifer, which is a cow that hasn’t had a calf. It means you’re the queen of the whole ranch, cattle and all. And that’s accurate because you’re—”

“Stop.” She held up a hand to forestall further excuses. “My code name from now on is…Carolyn.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She pivoted and left the office. Heifer Queen. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d been called.

B
URKE CHECKED HIS WRISTWATCH
. Approximately one hour and ten minutes ago, the first gray light of dawn had crept across the windowsills in the dining room. He’d pulled up the shades and given tasks to his three agents. Dylan had joined them.

After they had coffee and something to eat, Corelli, dressed in his suit and tie, had cleared away the plates. Agent Corelli was a bit obsessive-compulsive—an appropriate character disorder for someone who worked with complex and often frustrating electronics.

Now, they had settled into a routine of monitoring phone calls, studying maps and pacing. Waiting.

Burke looked toward the door to the dining room, anticipating the moment when Carolyn would appear. In addition to the pleasure of seeing her, he needed her help to execute a plan that might bring her sister-in-law home safely. Only Carolyn could help him; she held the key.

When she finally came through the door with coffee mug in hand and her smooth black hair falling loose to her shoulders, her gaze went straight to him. Without speaking, she seemed to be asking a question. Without threatening, she threw down a challenge.

How the hell would he convince her to do something she most likely wouldn’t want to do? Sweet talk wouldn’t work; she’d see right through him. Nor could he scare her into going along with his plan because this woman was fearless. Burke figured his best tactic was honesty.

Dylan slung his arm around her shoulder. “About time you got up, sis. It’s almost half past eight.”

She hugged him back. With their long lean bodies, matching black hair and green eyes, they looked like a male and female reflection of each other. The yin and yang of the Carlisles.

“Anything happening?” she asked. “Other than a bunch of crazy cowpokes yakking on walkie-talkies and pretending to be surveillance experts?”

“Don’t be snippy,” Dylan said. “Setting up the perimeter gave the men something to do. It’s not like anybody can concentrate on work while this is going on.”

Burke noticed that neither brother nor sister had mentioned Nicole’s name. They held the anguish he knew they must be feeling at a distance, and he appreciated their tough, taciturn attitude. In other kidnapping cases he’d worked, the families had been devastated to the point of breakdown. This was better.

“Good morning, Carolyn,” he said, remembering to be polite. “Deploying the ranch hands might look crazy, but you’ve got to admit that we’re well protected. Nobody’s going to get close enough to take another shot at this ranch.”

“I’m sorry about your van,” she said.

“It was a rental.”

Dylan directed her to a computer monitor where Agent Corelli sat with headphones. “Let me show you the setup. All of the landlines for the phones are routed through this monitoring station. The ringers are turned off, which is real good. Everybody we know has been trying to get in touch with us. Those calls are going straight to voice mail.”

“How will the kidnapper get through?”

“If the number he used last night comes up, Corelli will let it ring. He does the same with any call that isn’t from a familiar number.”

Burke circled the dining room table and stood beside her. “Dylan and I practiced how to handle a call from the kidnappers.
The same way I showed you last night. I think your brother should take the next call.”

“I want to hear his damn voice,” Dylan said.

She lifted her chin and studied her brother for a long moment. She approved of what she saw, and nodded. “Fine with me. In about a half hour, I need to get busy talking to the bankers about that million-dollar ransom.”

Burke stood close enough to smell the lilac fragrance of her shampoo. He needed to get her alone to make his pitch. “Before you get started with the finances,” he said, “I want you to take me to the field where all the sabotage started.”

“Shouldn’t you be here at the house? If the kidnappers call, Dylan might need your expertise.”

“Agent Silverman is a trained negotiator. And Dylan knows how to handle himself.” Burke checked his wristwatch again. Managing time gave him the illusion that he was in control, even though he knew that the only agenda that really mattered was dictated by the kidnappers. “If we leave now, we can get back by the time the banks open.”

“I suppose I could take you over to the south pasture. Actually, I wouldn’t mind getting outside.”

Dylan dug into his pocket, took out a set of keys and held them out. “Use my truck. It’s parked in front.”

“Burke, you can drive,” Carolyn said as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “That way I’ll have my hands free to get started with my phone calls.”

They made their way past the two cowboy bodyguards with their walkie-talkies and rifles on the porch, and then drove to the front gate where they encountered two more cowboy guards. Both of them tipped their hats to Carolyn.

“Take a right, Burke.” She cast a rueful gaze at the guards. “With all these guns and the surveillance, it feels like we’re conducting some kind of military operation. Baghdad in Colorado.”

He appreciated the protection, even if it was excessive. But that wasn’t what he wanted to discuss with her.

Burke needed to get inside the SOF compound and take a look around. Using force was out of the question. Survivalist groups were notoriously volatile, and he didn’t want to provide an armed standoff. Carolyn had a natural inroad. She could use her influence with Sam Logan to set up a meeting. Unfortunately, from what she’d said yesterday, he didn’t think she’d be too keen on talking to her former boyfriend.

The two-lane road curved around a thick stand of pines. When they came around the trees, the view took his breath away. Snowcapped peaks reached into a cloudless sky of pure blue. Forested foothills bordered a terrain of brownish grass and shrubs. The leveled, cultivated earth beside the barbed wire fence was surprisingly verdant with long rows of two to three inch shoots. “Green? In December?”

“Winter wheat,” Carolyn said.

When Burke was growing up with his single mother in Chicago, he’d spent several summers in Wisconsin dairy-farming country with his grandparents. They were schoolteachers and lived in town, but he’d spent enough time with local kids to learn the basics of riding horses and life on a farm. “I’ve never seen the winter wheat.”

“Soon enough this crop will go dormant when we get more snow, but I love the way it looks right now. The green promises new life. And hope.”

They were approaching the herd. Across an open space, he saw the boxy black silhouettes of Angus cattle. He’d been told there were only a couple of hundred head on this pasture.
Only?
It looked like a lot of cattle to him. The magnitude of this sprawling ranch operation impressed the hell out of him. “How far does your property extend?”

“Far enough,” she said. “Slow down. Here’s where we turn.”

He made a right onto an unpaved gravel road. The truck tires bounced over a cattle guard. At the metal fence, Carolyn hopped out to unlatch the gate for the truck to drive through and closed it behind them. Though she was bundled up in a black shearling coat and wearing a flat-brimmed hat, he’d never confuse her with a cowboy. Her gait was purely female.

She climbed back into the truck. Her eyes were bright. “Thanks for bringing me out here, Burke. I needed to smell the land, to hear the cattle lowing. Music to my ears.”

“Another golden oldie?”

“How about ‘Moo-oo-oon River?’”

“Very funny,” he said. “There’s another reason I wanted to get you alone. I need your help, Carolyn.”

“Hold that thought,” she said. “We’ve got another gate to go through.”

As she repeated the opening and closing procedure on the second gate, he reconsidered his plan. He had no right to ask her to get involved with Logan and the SOF. She wasn’t a trained investigator, and he might be leading her into danger.

Instead of getting back into the truck, she motioned for him to drive forward and get out. “Come with me, Burke.”

She strolled through the field toward the herd.

In Wisconsin, he’d seen plenty of cows, but those were friendly black-and-white-spotted Holsteins. These heavy-shouldered Black Angus looked rugged and undomesticated. Beef cattle. Western cattle.

Her cell phone rang, and while she answered, he stroked the solid flank of a steer that turned, glared and ambled toward a water trough. The south pasture wasn’t open range. A barbed wire fence ran from the road to the rugged cliffs of the foothills. He noticed a trail outside the fence.

Carolyn finished her call and joined him. “That was my attorney. He’s not happy about paying a ransom.”

“Neither am I,” he admitted.

“There might not be a choice.”

Her tone was crisp and matter-of-fact, as if she were discussing a business transaction instead of a kidnapping. He wondered how long her strict self-control would last. How much pressure could she take?

As she casually smoothed the hide of another massive steer, she asked, “Why are we here?”

“I wanted to see the field where the sabotage took place so I could figure out why it happened here.”

“Easy access,” she suggested. “It’s close to the road.”

“But still hidden from direct sight of the ranch house.” He pointed to the trail at the edge of the fence. “Where does that lead?”

“They call it the Indian Trail. It connects with a pass through the mountains.” She tipped back the brim of her hat and looked up at him. “You said you needed my help.”

He nodded. “You know who I consider my number one suspect.”