Colorado Abduction - By Cassie Miles & Marie Ferrarella Page 0,23
the sake of their grudges. Even if Miller had nothing to do with Nicole’s kidnapping, he was taking great pleasure from the pain this caused Dylan and Carolyn.
“This morning,” Burke said, “when you drove into town on your way to the café, did you pass the gas station?”
He gave a nod. “I did.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“Matter of fact, I did. I noticed because I needed a fill-up, and I thought O’Toole might have opened early. But it was just a guy using the phone.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“Sure. It was Sam Logan.”
Chapter Eight
Burke and Carolyn, who continued talking into her cell phone, returned to the gas station—which still wasn’t open for business. Sheriff Trainer had parked beside the Carlisle truck, and Trainer himself leaned against the wall beside the phone. When he saw them coming, he stubbed out his cigarette and tossed the butt in a trash can.
“Is this the phone?” the sheriff asked.
Burke nodded. “Be sure to check the coins inside for prints.”
“You got it. Anything else?”
“Do you know Nate Miller?”
“He’s a mean son of a gun. When his wife separated from him, she had to take out a restraining order. I guess they patched things up since then because she withdrew the order and, from what I understand, she lets him visit with his kid.”
“I want you to search his house.”
The sheriff showed very little surprise. “You think he kidnapped Nicole?”
“He’s a suspect.” And a man without an alibi. “He claims he was alone all day yesterday. Difficult to verify, but see if you can find anyone who saw him. After that, I’d appreciate if you could come out to the ranch house.”
“I’ll be there.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and took out a toothpick wrapped in cellophane, which he peeled. He stuck the pick in the corner of his mouth. “I sure wish I’d done things different. The first time Dylan called me about the sabotage, I should have undertaken a serious investigation, maybe even called in the state cops.”
“Do you think the kidnappers are the same guys?”
“Don’t you?”
“The obvious conclusion isn’t always correct.” As an investigator, Burke kept an open mind to all the possibilities. “This investigation is going to be a whole lot easier when our eyewitness can make an ID.”
“The security guard,” Trainer said. “How’s he doing?”
“Still unconscious. The doctors expect him to wake up, but they won’t say when.” He returned to more positive action. “I want a detailed, thorough search at Miller’s house. Copy the hard drive of his computer. Search his files. Check for footprints and fingerprints. If there’s a single hair from Nicole’s head, I want you to find it.”
Trainer bit down hard on his toothpick. “We’ve got the forensic equipment and the training. But I can’t guarantee that we won’t miss something. We’re not as experienced as the Colorado Bureau of Investigation.”
Burke didn’t want to involve another law enforcement agency. Last night he’d arranged for other FBI investigation teams—a chopper and tracker dogs. All of whom would answer directly to him. “I’ll send Agent Smith over to Miller’s place to give you a hand. See you back at the ranch.”
In the truck, Burke held off on telling Carolyn about Miller’s supposed sighting of Logan at the public phone. Nate Miller was an unreliable witness. And she appeared to have her hands full with bank negotiations. Since the moment she’d answered that call in Winnie’s Café, her cell had been glued to her ear.
His suspicions turned toward the inside man at the ranch. Someone—one of those supposedly loyal cowboys—had taken her phone and passed the number to the kidnappers. Burke considered gathering up all the cell phones and running a check on recent numbers called. But that still wasn’t proof. The inside man could have used somebody else’s phone. It was better not to alert the traitor that they were looking for him.
Carolyn disconnected her call, sank back against the seat and exhaled in a long whoosh. “I’ve got the ransom.”
“How’s it going to work?”
“With reams of paperwork, transfers of funds and a friendly contact at the Federal Reserve Bank. One million in cash.”
“I’m impressed.” Truly he was. Not many people could summon up a million in cash on a few hours’ notice.
“In our business, we regularly handle large transactions,” she said. “In addition to our own herd, we work with sixty other cattle ranches of various sizes.”
He remembered her earlier explanation of their international business. “Other producers of certified organic beef. They’re contracted with you for distribution.”
“We pay them