Colorado Abduction - By Cassie Miles & Marie Ferrarella Page 0,21
recent memory. “I was in the dining room, talking to you. The phone was in my hand. I set it down on the table.”
“And when we responded to the gunfire?”
“I left my phone on the table. Didn’t pick it up until much later.”
“After half the people on the ranch had come into the house. Any of them could have picked it up and gotten your private number.”
She didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking, but she couldn’t deny his logic. “Are you saying that someone on the ranch is working with the kidnappers?”
Burke’s cell phone jingled and he answered.
Dark thoughts of betrayal flooded her mind. When she’d learned of the many people who held grudges against the Carlisles, she’d been surprised and hurt. This was worse. Someone who worked for them—a trusted employee—was involved in Nicole’s kidnapping. Anger sparked inside her, burning away the last vestige of her tears. When she got her hands on that traitor, they would pay dearly.
“We’re in luck,” Burke said. “The kidnapper’s call came from a public telephone in Riverton.”
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Burke parked the truck at the only gas station in Riverton—a small town that was about ten miles from Delta and an equal distance from the Carlisle Ranch. He’d considered taking Carolyn back to the safety of the ranch house but decided it was more important to follow this lead as quickly as possible.
The public phone hung on a dingy brick wall beside the closed doors of the auto repair bays. The windows of the gas station were dark. “What time do they open?”
“Whenever Silas O’Toole gets around to it. Usually, that’s from about ten in the morning until six at night.”
When the kidnapper called Carolyn at a few minutes after nine, he had a reasonable expectation of privacy. Using the public phone was actually a clever move because their trace resulted in a dead end.
It seemed unlikely they’d find any witnesses in this dusty little western town. Main Street’s sidewalk stretched one block with storefronts and offices on either side. Limp red bows hung from the streetlights in a feeble attempt at Christmas decorating. At the other end of the block was a bar with a Closed sign hung on the door. The only activity appeared to be at Winnie’s Café where two vehicles were parked outside at the curb.
Burke had already put in a call to Sheriff Trainer in Delta, requesting a forensic team to take fingerprints from the phone. Not that he expected to find much in the way of evidence. Even amateur criminals knew enough to wear gloves.
“I don’t see many pedestrians,” he said.
“Most of the people who live here work in Delta. Even the kids are bussed to school.” She cracked her door open. “Shouldn’t we be poking around and asking questions? Someone might have seen the kidnapper using the phone.”
“I hate to have you involved in this.” Any kind of investigation carried a certain element of danger. And he was concerned about her emotional state.
“You need me,” she said. “People around here don’t like to talk to strangers, especially not to a big city guy in a leather jacket who’s carrying an FBI badge.”
“But they’ll talk to you.”
“They’d better.”
Her smile showed a cool determination that he hardly believed was possible after her torrential breakdown. In the space of fifteen minutes, Carolyn had not only recovered her poise, but actually seemed stronger.
Though there was something to be said for Western stoicism, he’d seen the passion that burned inside her. Reaching toward her, he wiped away a smudge the tears had left on her cheek. “You’re okay?”
“A hundred and ten percent.” Her long black lashes fluttered as she blinked. “I won’t fall apart again. My dad always used to say, ‘When you get thrown from your horse, the best thing is to get right back on.’”
He didn’t see how that advice applied. “What’s that mean?”
“Don’t waste time sitting on your butt and crying.”
She climbed out of the truck and he followed. He unzipped his leather jacket, allowing easy access to his shoulder holster.
They talked to two women on the street, an insurance agent and the owner of the feed store that was directly across the street from the gas station. Everybody was friendly to Carolyn, but none of them had seen anyone using the phone.
Their next stop was Winnie’s Café. The front window was painted with a Santa Claus and a snowman. As soon as they stepped through the door, he heard Carolyn curse under her breath. She