Colorado Abduction - By Cassie Miles & Marie Ferrarella Page 0,22
nodded toward a wiry man in a beat-up Stetson. Like the hat, his face was weathered. Leathery brown skin stretched tight across high cheekbones and a sharp chin. Burke guessed that he was probably near forty.
Quietly, Carolyn said, “That’s Nate Miller.”
He remembered the name from the list of potential kidnappers. Miller blamed the Carlisles for the loss of his cattle ranching business. He had leased his property to the Sons of Freedom. “Introduce me.”
He could see her jaw tighten as she approached the square wood table where Nate sat reading the sports page of the Denver newspaper and sipping coffee.
Keeping her voice level, Carolyn greeted him. “Mind if we join you?”
“Suit yourself.” He squinted at Burke through hostile eyes. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Has this got something to do with what happened to Nicole?”
Though he obviously knew about the kidnapping, Nate hadn’t offered condolences or any expression of concern to Carolyn. That was cold. “What time did you get to the café this morning?”
“Same as every damn morning. Nine o’clock.”
That gave him enough time to stop at the gas station and make the ransom call. “Did you drive?”
“Must have.” He sneered. “That’s my truck sitting outside at the curb.”
Carolyn’s cell phone rang. She carefully checked the number before she said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to take this call.”
As she politely stepped away from the table, Burke watched for a reaction from the man who sat opposite him. Nate Miller didn’t move a muscle, didn’t betray any sign of his grudge. When he lifted his coffee mug to his lips, his hand was steady.
If Miller was one of the kidnappers, he had to be the coolest criminal Burke had ever encountered, and that list included professional hit men, bank robbers and terrorists.
“Do you live in town?” Burke asked.
“I’ve got a little place up the road near Delta. It belonged to my ma before she died.”
Nicole could be there. “Address?”
“I don’t have to tell you.”
Burke slid his FBI shield from his pocket and placed it on the table. “Yeah, you do.”
“FBI.” He sneered. “Of course, the high-and-mighty Carlisles would call in the feds. They know people. They’ve got more money than is right.”
“You know what happened to Nicole.”
“I heard about it. Everybody’s buzzing.” He set his mug down on the table. “It’s a shame. Nicole’s a nice woman. Can’t say the same for her husband.”
“Somebody might have kidnapped her to get back at him.”
Anger flared in his squinty eyes. “It’s no secret that I hate the Carlisles. Because of them, I lost my livestock and my livelihood. My wife left me. Took my son. If it wasn’t for Sam Logan paying me big bucks to rent my land, I’d have lost my ranch, as well.”
When he stood, Burke growled, “Sit down, Miller. I have more questions.”
“Here’s your answer.” Miller remained standing. “I didn’t kidnap Nicole.”
Burke had no intention of letting this guy walk away. He glanced around the café. There were only four other customers. Burke saw no reason to bust up this pleasant little establishment if this confrontation turned physical.
He took out his wallet, peeled off a twenty, dropped it on the table and stood. “Let’s take this outside.”
Miller made a beeline for the door and Burke followed.
Still on the phone, Carolyn watched with concern in her eyes. He gave her a wink. If it came down to a fight, he could take Miller without breaking a sweat. Not only was Burke six inches taller and probably forty pounds heavier, but he knew how to fight. He’d been taught by the best at Quantico. Before the FBI, he’d had five years on the street as a Chicago cop.
Truth be told, he almost wanted Miller to resist. Carolyn had eased her tension with tears. Burke would find a similar release in kicking butt.
On the sidewalk, Miller turned to face him. His thumbs hitched in his pockets. Not a fighting stance.
“Here’s my address.” He rattled off a street number. “Is that all you want from me?”
“Where were you last night?”
“Home in bed. Alone.”
“Before that?”
“I work as a handyman now that I don’t have a ranch to take care of. And I had a light day. I was done by two.”
“Can anyone verify your whereabouts?”
His thin mouth curved in a smirk. “I own a horse. You could talk to him.”
Burke had faced men like Miller before. Men who believed they’d been wronged and the world was against them. They expected the worst. And they lived their mean little lives for