Colorado Abduction - By Cassie Miles & Marie Ferrarella Page 0,20
won’t get hurt.”
Chapter Seven
The last thing Carolyn expected was a call from the kidnapper. Corelli had all the equipment for this call set up at the house, and this squeaky voice was nothing like the whisper from last night. “Who is this?”
“Nicole is wearing a plaid shirt, red and blue. Wrangler jeans. The inside of her wedding ring says My horizon.”
Carolyn felt the blood drain from her face. Very few people knew about the inscription on the wedding rings. “Is Nicole there? Let me talk to her.”
“I want five hundred thousand in cash. By Monday night.”
“Half a million?” Why had the amount dropped? Why was the deadline changed?
“You’ll pay.”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “Don’t hurt her. Please don’t hurt her.”
“I’ll call again, Carolyn.”
The phone went dead.
What just happened? Staring through the windshield, her vision blurred. It felt like she was going to pass out.
Gently, Burke took the phone from her hand. Her arm fell limp to the seat. All the strength left her body as she collapsed against the seat on the passenger side of the truck.
“Carolyn.” Burke sounded like he was a million miles away instead of sitting beside her. “Carolyn, look at me.”
She was too devastated to move, couldn’t even summon the will to turn her head. She mumbled, “I did all the wrong things. Didn’t ask for proof of life. Didn’t keep him on the phone. I messed up.”
Burke flipped back the center partition and pulled her across the seat toward him. Weak as a rag doll, she rested against him. The warmth of his body did little to melt the chill she felt inside. As if her heart had frozen. Why is this happening to my family? Why?
A sob tore from her lips. She fought desperately for control. I’m not the kind of woman who cries. She forced herself to hold back the storm of emotion that had been building inside her. Her hands clenched into fists and she held them against her mouth, pressing hard.
“It’s okay.” Burke stroked her trembling shoulders. “Let it out.”
Still she fought. If she turned all weepy, nobody would respect her. Hell, she wouldn’t respect herself.
“Go ahead and cry,” he whispered. “I won’t tell a soul.”
Another sob wrenched through her. Another agonizing gasp. Her body convulsed. The floodgates burst. Tears poured down her cheeks. She completely lost control. For a long moment, she clung to him, weeping and trembling.
“It wasn’t the same guy,” she said between sobs. “Not the same as last night.”
“Probably not.” He caressed her hair. “It wasn’t the same voice or phone number.”
“But he knew about the wedding ring.” Her tears streamed. “How could he know?”
“There were two men who abducted Nicole.” His calm, rational voice soothed her. “Maybe they had a falling out. Maybe they went their separate ways.”
“Why?”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
“You’re right.” And her outburst was wasting precious minutes. Ashamed and scared and angry, she pushed against his chest, separating herself from him. “What should we do?”
He held up his cell phone. “I’m calling Corelli. If that phone number from the call is listed, he can give us a name.”
Still shuddering from the outpouring of emotion, she sank back against the seat and listened to Burke’s end of the conversation. While he talked, he linked his hand with hers.
From the moment they met, he’d told her that he didn’t come to Carlisle Ranch to make friends. He’d warned her that some of his advice would seem cold and hard. But she’d felt his compassion. With her free hand, she pulled her shirt collar out of her jacket and dabbed the moisture from her cheeks. It had been years since anyone saw her weep. Even when her father died, she’d kept her tears to herself.
Ending his call, he squeezed her hand. “Are you okay?”
“I blubbered all over you, and I don’t even know your first name. What does the J.D. stand for?”
“Jeremiah Davenport.”
She could understand why he went by initials. “You’re definitely not a Jerry.”
“Or a Davenport,” he said. “Let’s get back to business. Who would call you on that phone? Who has that number?”
“This is my personal phone,” she said. “It’s not the PDA I use for business. Some people in Denver have this number, but very few. That’s why I used this phone to contact my financial people. I wanted to keep the line clear.”
“Here at the ranch,” he said, “who knows the number?”
“Only Dylan.” But somehow the kidnapper knew.
“Last night when we heard the gunshots, where was your phone?”