Colorado Abduction Page 8

  “Planning,” she said. “I’m good at planning.”

  “Think about what you’re going to say to Logan.” His voice was calm. “Concentrate on what steps we need to take. Once we’re inside the SOF compound, we need to assess the area. Make a mental map of the buildings. If they’re holding Nicole, where is she? Who would know where she is? Somebody must be bringing her food and water. Which person is most likely to help us?”

  “Think of the end goal.”

  “We need names,” he said. “Usually, I can count on Corelli to pull up this kind of information, but the SOF is too insignificant to be on the FBI radar. If we have individual names, we can run them through our database.”

  “I’m good at remembering names.”

  “Me, too.” He caressed her chin. “You’re trembling.”

  “Holding back my anger.” She needed an immediate release—a way to express the raging emotion that rushed through her veins.

  “How can I help?”

  Without thinking of the consequences, she slid out from behind the steering wheel and across the bench seat of the truck. She moved into his arms, pressing against him.

  They kissed, hard and fierce. She willingly surrendered to her passion. Her body arched toward him. The pressure of his mouth against hers sparked a fire within her. It felt good. A controlled burn. Like the kind the forest rangers set to stop a wider conflagration.

  Her lips parted. She drew his tongue into her mouth. Her senses went wild. Every cell in her body responded to him.

  When he separated from her, she was breathing in gasps. She hadn’t cooled down. In fact, the opposite. But this fire made her stronger, braver, better. She felt like she could take on the world. One creepy ex-boyfriend like Sam Logan was no problem.

  She turned the key in the ignition and drove to the gate outside the Circle M. Between sturdy gateposts, a double-wide gate—about five feet tall with horizontal white slats—was latched and locked with a chain. A dusty-looking cowboy ambled toward them, rifle in hand.

  Carolyn parked at the side of the road, hopped down from the truck and strode toward him. “Tell Sam Logan that Carolyn Carlisle has come calling.”

  “Don’t care,” he said defiantly. “Nobody gets in. No trespassing.”

  “Use your cell phone.” She wasn’t about to let some half-baked guard stand in her way. “Tell Logan I’m here.”

  Burke had gotten out of the truck and stood behind her. The cowboy glanced toward him, then back to her. “I’ll call.”

  She and Burke stepped back. His kiss still burned on her lips, and she was incredibly attuned to his presence. If they’d been alone, she would have been all over this tall, handsome fed, but that wasn’t an option. She was here to gather information from the SOF, to find Nicole.

  She leaned against the hood of the truck and watched as the cowboy returned to his guard position and took out his cell phone. Burke stood beside her.

  “Logan will be out here in a minute,” she said. “You were right about his ego. He won’t be able to resist bragging about how he’s the big shot leader of a gang of crazies.”

  “After he shows, what’s your plan?”

  “I’ll get him to invite us in.”

  Though she kept her focus on logic, she couldn’t think of a single rational reason why Logan should open his doors to her. Her method of persuasion had to be based on emotion. She’d mention their past relationship. “Have you ever been in love, Burke?”

  “Have you?”

  “You’re doing that negotiator thing,” she said. “Answering my question with a question of your own.”

  “Yes, I’ve been in love. It changed my life.” Through his sunglasses, he looked at her. “And you?”

  “Not with Logan. When we were together, it seemed like the right time to get married and settle down on the ranch. But I didn’t love him.”

  “How did he feel about you?”

  “It might have been love.” She’d had years to analyze this failed relationship. “Or he might have been in love with the idea of getting a piece of Carlisle Ranch. My father liked him. If we’d married, Logan would be a rich man today.”

  “Maybe,” Burke said, “he was using you.”

  A rueful awareness seeped into her thoughts. Years ago, when she broke up with Logan, he’d seemed shattered. He’d tried everything to win her back. “You think he was only after my money?”

  “It fits the profile for a cult leader—someone who’s manipulative, egotistical and uncaring about the needs of others. With SOF as his power base, Logan has found a way to use these people and, apparently, to provide himself with an income.”

  “All these years,” she said. “I’ve felt guilty for rejecting him.”

  “Which is how he wanted you to feel.”

  The road on the opposite side of the gate led to a barn. A stand of trees blocked the view of the house and the other outbuildings. Logan rode toward them on that road. A majestic sight on his pure white horse. His dark brown leather vest looked like a doublet. He was bareheaded, and his long blond hair flowed past his shoulders and glistened in the sunlight.

  At the gate, he reined his horse and looked down at her. In the six years since she’d seen him, she’d forgotten how truly good-looking he was. Not as tall as Burke, but broad-shouldered and lean. His features were as picture-perfect as a movie star’s. No wonder she’d fallen for him.

  Carolyn ambled toward the gate. She climbed the slats to the top rung, making her nearly as tall as Logan on horseback. She looked directly into his baby blue eyes. “Well? Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”

  “You look good, Carolyn. City life agrees with you.”

  Instead of giving him the satisfaction of telling him that he was still as gorgeous as ever, she patted his horse’s neck. “This is a fine-looking stallion.”

  “I’m keeping him for stud.”

  “Is that what you do here?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking. “Stud service?”

  “We train horses. One of my men is Butch Thurgood, a rodeo champion bronc rider.”

  She’d never heard of Thurgood, but Carolyn didn’t keep up with the latest rodeo news. “I’d like to meet him.”

  “I remember when you used to be the queen of the barrel race.” He glanced toward the guard with the rifle. “Back in the day, me and Carolyn were a couple. I considered marrying this young woman, joining with her to become part of the all-powerful Carlisle family. Imagine that. Me, being a corporate, capitalist stooge?” He gave a completely phony laugh. “I came to my senses and saw the error in my ways.”

  Spare me the sermon. “Last night, when my brother and the sheriff came by, your men wouldn’t allow them to enter.”

  “We don’t recognize the law represented by Sheriff Trainer.” He looked past her to Burke. “Or by your friend over there. FBI?”

  “Special Agent J. D. Burke.” He took a step forward. “I haven’t come here to accuse you, Logan.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t have a search warrant or a judge’s order,” Burke said. “Carolyn and I are merely looking for information. We want to talk to your people. To find out if anyone saw anything suspicious last night when Nicole Carlisle was kidnapped.”

  Logan sneered. “The government and the agents of the government are liars.”

  “I’m not armed.” Burke held his coat open, showing his empty shoulder holster. Apparently, he’d left his handgun in the truck. “I just want to ask questions.”

  “We’re neighbors,” Carolyn said. “Aren’t neighbors supposed to help each other in times of need?”

  “Carlisle Ranch represents the establishment. You and your brother are the nemesis of freedom.”

  She tamped down her anger. It wouldn’t do any good to insult him. “You knew my father, Logan. He liked you, believed in you.”

  “Sterling Carlisle was a good man.”

  “I’m not your enemy.” Not yet, anyway. “Please let me
come inside. I’m worried about Nicole. Maybe one of your people saw something. Maybe they can help me find her.”

  He dismounted, passed the reins to the guard and unlocked the gate. With a sweeping gesture, he announced, “I have nothing to hide.”

  Entering the Circle M, she strode down the road, flanked by Logan and Burke.

  In her younger days, she’d been satisfied in a relationship with a handsome cowboy like Logan. Now, she needed more complexity, more depth and a hundred times more honesty—qualities Burke had in abundance.

  In a conversational tone, Burke asked, “How many people live here at the Circle M?”

  “Gathering information for your FBI database?”

  “We keep track of groups like yours,” Burke admitted. “But I’ll tell you the truth, Logan. We don’t have a listing for Sons of Freedom. You’re not dangerous enough to be on the radar.”

  “Just because you haven’t heard of me,” Logan said, “doesn’t mean I’m not important.”

  “The FBI has bigger fish to fry. Terrorists. Hijackers. The Russian Mafia. Those are the real enemies of the state.”

  Logan puffed out his chest, possibly hoping to inflate his bruised ego. “You have no idea who you’re talking to.”

  “How many people have you got here? Ten or fifteen?”

  “Twice that. Twelve men and fifteen women and children.”

  “Husbands and wives?” Burke asked.

  “We don’t believe in the overregulated institution of marriage.”

  “How does that work?” Carolyn asked.

  “If a couple chooses to be monogamous, their decision is respected. If not, that’s accepted.”

  “Are you monogamous?”

  “Not at present.” His blue-eyed gaze slid over her body. “Sorry, Carolyn. You already missed your chance to be with me.”

  Silently, she thanked her lucky stars.

  Burke asked, “How much acreage do you have?”

  “Enough to live on. Nate Miller is trying to sell the rest of his land. Hasn’t had much luck.”

  “And how do you pay the bills?”

  “The Sons of Freedom are establishing a new way of life, based on the real foundations of America. Self-sufficiency, simplicity and old-fashioned hard work.” He glanced toward Carolyn. “I’m writing a book.”

  The World According to Peabrain? “I didn’t know you could write.”

  “A man can do anything he sets his mind to.”

  They were within sight of the main buildings. Compared to the Carlisle ranch house, the Circle M was plain and shabby. The house was a simple, one-story structure with beat-up siding the color of soured milk and a shingled roof in need of repair. The other outbuildings were equally ugly. A shiny, new double-wide mobile home was parked near the ramshackle barn.

  She saw two women walking together. Each of the women’s hair was pulled back in a bun. Beneath their jackets, shapeless dresses hung to their ankles.

  “Interesting fashion statement,” she said. “You say that a man can do anything. What about a woman?”

  “Our women are respected and revered,” he said. “They’re the glue that holds civilization together. They raise our children, provide sustenance and create a healthful environment.”

  To Carolyn’s ears, his language was code for cooking, cleaning and popping out babies. “That doesn’t sound like much of a life.”

  “Not to someone like you.” His upper lip curled in a sneer. “A career woman.”

  What did I ever see in this jerk? His golden hair, broad shoulders and perfect features didn’t make up for his ridiculous, misogynistic ideas. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Because I’ve always been right.” His sneer turned into a dazzling white smile. “Our women are happy here. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to talk to them and hear for yourself.”

  “Wonderful.” The way she figured, some of these respected, revered ladies had to be dissatisfied. They were probably the best lead to finding Nicole.

  Two cowboys stalked toward them. Unlike their leader, they weren’t smiling.

  Logan motioned to the taller of the two and issued an order. “Escort Carolyn to the kitchen. She can help the ladies prepare lunch.”

  She hadn’t come here to peel potatoes. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather—”

  “I do mind,” Logan said. “We have a division of labor. The men discuss business. And the ladies…”

  “Prepare lunch?”

  “I’m glad you understand. Run along now.”

  Nobody, but nobody, told her to run along. She was the CEO of an international corporation. She negotiated with heads of state. She knew the governor.

  But this wasn’t about her. She was here to get information about Nicole. And the women would probably be more sympathetic than the men.

  Baring her teeth in a false smile, she said, “You boys have a good time. Don’t tire yourself out with too much heavy thinking.”

  She pivoted and strode toward the ranch house.

  Chapter Ten

  Burke watched as Carolyn stormed toward the house. The cowboy who accompanied her tried to take her arm and she yanked away so fast that he stepped back, giving her plenty of space. Smart move. After Logan’s women-belong-in-the-kitchen comments, Carolyn was volatile.

  Though she could probably take care of herself, Burke still didn’t like the idea of being separated from her. When entering a dangerous situation, partners should stick together.

  “I see the way you’re looking at her,” Logan said.

  “I’m concerned,” Burke said. “She’s a victim. A kidnapping hurts the family almost as much as it hurts the person who has been abducted.”

  “Carolyn’s a fine looking woman.”

  Burke lied, “She’s not my type. She’d just as soon kick my ass as kiss me.”

  The short cowboy who stood with them chuckled. Burke introduced himself and got the other man’s name—Wesley Tindall. If he got enough names for Corelli to investigate through criminal databases, they might have a clue about what actually went on at the Circle M.

  He looked toward the bunkhouse where two guys were working on a huge piece of machinery. “Installing a generator?”

  “I told you. We want to be self-sufficient. Except for the house, all our heat comes from propane.”

  “But you still have to buy the propane tanks.”

  “We have a big stockpile.”

  Burke cringed inside. If it came to a showdown with the SOF, a stray bullet could penetrate the stockpile of propane tanks and cause an explosion that would rock the mountains. “Let’s get down to business, Logan. I’d like to interview your men. Someone might have noticed something unusual last night.”

  “Like what?”

  Logan’s voice sounded suspicious. The best way to get information from this guy was to constantly feed his giant ego. “Damned if I know. This case has me baffled. You might have some ideas.”

  The handsome blond cowboy shrugged. “Ask your questions.”

  “First, I’d like to get my bearings.” Burke took a couple of steps and looked beyond the bunkhouse to the west. “I’m a city guy. Pretty much lost in all this wide-open space.”

  “I’ve lived here all my life,” Logan said smugly. “I know every rock and tree.”

  Burke deliberately pointed in the wrong direction. “Is the Carlisle Ranch that way?”

  “Not even close.” Logan aimed his forefinger like a gun. “The house is over there—only about four miles away as the crow flies. Following roads, it’s more than that.”

  “And where’s the Widow Grant’s place?”

  “Do you see that break in the hills? It’s an old Indian trail. Widow Grant lives just south of there.”

  Carolyn had mentioned the Indian Trail at the edge of the south pasture where all the sabotage had taken place. Burke wondered if it was significant.

  Logan asked, “Why are you interested?”

  “Nicole was kidnapped by two men on hors
eback somewhere between the Widow Grant’s place and the Carlisle ranch house. Do you think the kidnappers came this way? Toward the Circle M?”

  “Our land is fenced with barbed wire. Nobody came through here on horseback.”

  “Why is it fenced? You’re not running cattle.”

  “Horses,” Logan said. “We keep them in the barn at night and let them run free during the day.”

  Looking toward the barn, Burke noticed a surveillance camera attached above the door. Another lens was visible on the mobile home. No attempt had been made to hide the cameras. “You have electronic surveillance.”

  “State-of-the-art, equipped with night vision,” Logan drawled. “Some people don’t like us. We need to keep ourselves protected.”

  Were the fences and the surveillance used to keep people out? Or to keep the Sons of Freedom in? “Any chance that I could take a look at the footage from last night? The cameras might have picked up something that would help me find Nicole.”

  Logan showed no sign of being worried. “What time was she kidnapped?”

  “Before dark. Somewhere between five and six o’clock.”

  “You’re out of luck,” Logan said. “During the day, we have enough people around to make sure nobody breaks in. We generally don’t turn on the surveillance until after dinner. That’s around seven or eight. Too late to show anything that would be useful to you.”

  He’d answered quickly, almost as if he knew the time of Nicole’s kidnapping before Burke had told him. Was she here? In addition to the mobile home, the house, two bunkhouses and the barn, there were several smaller buildings. Storage sheds. A smokehouse. Other motor homes and trailers. There was probably a root cellar under the house.

  Altogether, there were too many damn places for Logan to hide a kidnap victim…if she was still alive.

  IN THE RANCH HOUSE KITCHEN, Carolyn was the only woman wearing jeans and boots. Her clothing wasn’t the only thing that made her different. She stood taller. She had energy, fire and ambition.

  These three women—dressed in shapeless frocks, limp sweaters and leggings—seemed like the life had been drained from them. After they politely introduced themselves using only their first names, they returned to their chores, quietly performing their tasks with dedication and zero enthusiasm. Like prisoners, they seemed robbed of their will, caught in an endless cycle of boredom. What could possibly cause these young women to come to this place? Why did they stay?