She wasn’t suited to our lifestyle.”
Carolyn rested her elbows on the counter beside Lisa and spoke quietly. “I’ve lost someone, too. My sister-in-law, Nicole. Yesterday, she was knocked unconscious and kidnapped. I’m trying to—”
“I know who you are,” Sharon said. “Carolyn Carlisle of the fancy-pants Carlisle Ranch. You own half the county. Why should we help you?”
“Because it’s the decent thing to do. Like it or not, we’re your neighbors. We need your help.”
In her business, Carolyn was accustomed to tense negotiations with international distributors and local ranchers. These three women were the most hostile group she’d ever encountered.
“Let me tell you about Nicole,” Carolyn said. “She’s a good and decent person. She’s worked all her life as a large-animal veterinarian. The first time I met her, she’d spent the night in the stall with a horse that had colic. She was exhausted, barely able to walk. But she was grinning because the horse recovered. A good person.”
“We don’t care,” Sharon said.
Carolyn continued, “Nicole married my brother five years ago. They’re deeply in love, trying to have a baby.” She went to stand beside Sunny. “It’s hard for Nicole to get pregnant. She’s had internal injuries.”
Sunny frowned. “That’s too bad.”
“When are you due?”
“In a couple of weeks, I think.”
“You’re seeing a doctor, aren’t you? Or a midwife?”
Sharon stepped between them, positioning herself as a shield and precluding any further conversation. This tall blonde, who would have been stunning with makeup, looked Carolyn in the eye. “You should leave. Now.”
Her pupils were dilated, and she licked the corner of her mouth. Was she on drugs? Carolyn said, “Logan wanted me to help you with lunch preparations.”
“Fine,” Sharon said. “Then you need an apron.”
“Right.” I need an apron like I need a toe growing out of my forehead.
THE INTERIOR of Logan’s double-wide mobile home was an office with fairly high-end equipment. Apparently, the SOF goal to live like pioneers didn’t preclude the use of computers, scanners and GPS mapping instruments.
Burke operated under the assumption that Logan’s survivalist philosophy was a convenient cover story for some other endeavor. Probably criminal and lucrative. If Corelli could hack into these computers, they could decipher the real basis for the SOF in about five minutes.
Under Logan’s supervision, he’d spoken to ten different men, most of whom were typical taciturn cowboys. The notable exception was a guy with a thick Brooklyn accent who admitted that the only cowboys he’d seen before moving to Colorado were in the movies.
“That’s everybody,” Logan said. He sat behind his big oak desk with his chair tilted back and his boots propped up on top. “Like I told you, nobody saw anything out of the ordinary.”
“You said there were twelve men.” Though Burke hadn’t taken notes, he’d memorized every name. “I counted only ten. And I didn’t meet that rodeo star you mentioned. Butch Thurgood?”
Logan’s gaze sharpened. He didn’t like being caught in a lie. “Butch and Pete are in Denver for a couple of days.”
“And what about the ladies? I’d like to talk to them, too.”
“The women keep busy. They didn’t see anything.”
“Never can tell,” Burke said. “Sometimes, women notice more details than men.”
Logan stuck out his lower lip. Petulant, like a child. “I don’t encourage gossiping and nosiness.”
Or independent thinking? For the life of him, Burke couldn’t figure out what Carolyn had ever seen in this petty tyrant. Sure, Logan was handsome, but so was a tiger before it ripped your arm out of the socket.
Logan continued, “The women who live here are grateful to have a roof over their heads. Some of them came from the streets. SOF is a fresh start for them, and they’re happy to be obedient and hardworking.”
Burke sensed an undercurrent to this speech. Was there dissatisfaction among the ladies? A rebellion brewing? If he wanted to find out what was really going on inside the SOF, he needed to listen to the women. Maybe Carolyn was having some luck in talking to them.
He rose from the straight-back chair beside the desk. He’d already affixed one bug under the lip of Logan’s desk, but he had another listening device that he wanted to get inside the house. “Let’s pick up Carolyn at the house, and you can show us around.”
“Nothing special to see.”
“Looks like you’ve added a lot of improvements.”
“Nothing special,” Logan repeated.
“What about a meeting place?” He was hoping for a big room with slogans on the wall or other traceable clues. “It’s like you’re running a little town here.”
“That’s right,” he drawled. “And