by Cassie Miles
Jesse strode past her, inserting himself as mediator. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. What the hell do you want?”
Clinton straightened the lapel on his tailored Harris tweed jacket and stuck his nose in the air. “We have a warrant to search this house for stolen property.”
“Stolen?” She choked on the word. “In what twisted universe would you think I stole anything from you?”
“My father’s property,” he said smugly, “belongs to me and my sister.”
“Do you think your father would be proud, Clinton?” If she’d had Jesse’s gun in her hand, she wouldn’t have hesitated to drill a neat little hole in the middle of his handsome forehead. “Do you think he’d applaud your greed?”
“You’re stalling,” he said. “Like when you accused me of breaking into your house.”
“I’m not so sure you didn’t.”
“Don’t push me, Fiona.”
When Clinton took a threatening step toward her, she noticed that Agent Burke made a corresponding move. If this confrontation turned physical, she knew that Burke and Jesse would be on her side. A reassuring thought.
But this wasn’t their battle, and she refused to hide behind them. The time had come for her to fight. Not for the objects Clinton had listed on his inventory but for her reputation. “I’m not a thief.”
Clinton scoffed.
Jesse slipped his arm out of the sling and flexed his fingers into a fist in a not-so-subtle threat. “I suggest you show some respect to the widow.”
“Settle down,” the sheriff said. “We’re here with a legal warrant.”
“Show it to me,” she said.
The sheriff placed the faxed warrant in her hand. Attached was Clinton’s inventory. Blinded by anger, she needed a moment for her eyes to focus. “It’s signed by a Denver judge. Does he have jurisdiction in this district?”
“That’s a valid question,” Jesse said. “I’m sure Special Agent Burke can clear this up with a couple of phone calls to his bosses in the FBI. What is it that you’re looking to seize? A Tiffany lamp?”
“And a pink tiara,” she said, glancing at Clinton’s list.
“A tiara, huh?” Jesse shot a glare in the direction of the sheriff. “That sounds like a threat to national security. Maybe we should call the NSA.”
Burke juggled his cell phone. “I can start with the state attorney’s office. Or the governor. He’s a personal friend of Carolyn’s.”
“I’m just doing my job,” Sheriff Trainer muttered.
He looked so cowed and miserable that Fiona might have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t been so hostile toward her. She stated, “I want this issue settled. Immediately. We have much more important things to worry about than Clinton’s petty claims.”
“Like what?” Clinton said.
She focused on the sheriff. “Making sure Nicole is all right. Finding the missing ransom.”
“Not my problem,” Clinton said. “I’m not backing down.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Her anger solidified into a hard mass in her chest, blocking her lungs. She had to speak her piece or explode. “Ever since your father died, you and your mother have made your demands exceedingly clear. With the help of your lawyers, you grabbed my house, my car and my bank accounts. But you can never take my most important possession.”
“What’s that?”
“Memories.” If all she had left was the remembrance of her years with Wyatt, their love and their happiness, she’d be a wealthy woman.
She paused to inhale a breath. Now that she’d spoken of her pathetic financial condition in front of both the sheriff and Burke, her secret would be common knowledge. Humiliating, but probably for the best. She couldn’t hide the fact that she was running out of money for much longer; soon she needed to look for a job.
She handed her house keys to Burke. “Would you please accompany Clinton while he searches? I’d appreciate if he makes as little mess as possible.”
“I understand,” Burke said. “This won’t take long.”
She watched Clinton stalk toward her house. Any hope of reconciliation with that side of Wyatt’s family was gone. It pained her to realize that Abby would never know many of her blood relatives.
Jesse stood close beside her, and she was glad for his presence. She’d handled Clinton on her own, but it didn’t hurt to have a strong shoulder to lean against for comfort after he was gone.
Sheriff Trainer cleared his throat. “Was all that true? You lost everything after your husband died?”
“Pretty much,” she said. “I have a clear deed to this house, but that’s about all.”
“That explains why you moved here.” He took out his cigarettes and tapped the top of the pack. “I didn’t understand why a city gal like you would want to live in this cabin. Now I know the truth. You’re broke.”
“That’s enough,” Jesse said.
“I haven’t even gotten started.” He gestured with his unlit cigarette. “There was one thing I couldn’t figure out about Fiona and her connection to the kidnapping. I didn’t know why a rich woman would get involved. But you aren’t rich, are you? You have a motive.”
“So do you,” Jesse said coldly.
“What?” His voice was a squawk.
“That million-dollar ransom is a big motivator. I’ve got to ask myself, how were the kidnappers always able to keep one step ahead of the investigation? They must have somebody on the inside. You?”
“That’s just plain—”
“The way I figure, you’ve got a lot on your plate—Butch’s unsolved murder, locating Nicole and finding the missing ransom. Yet you made time to personally serve Clinton Grant’s warrant. It looks like you’re trying to point us in the wrong direction.”
“I’ve got no leads.”
“Why not?” Jesse asked. “Richter is no genius. He must have left clues. Unless you’re covering up for him.”
The sheriff fired up his cigarette. “I don’t have to stand here and take this.”
Fiona spoke up. “Then leave. Get off my property.”
Without another word, he went to his vehicle and got behind the wheel.
Her heart was beating faster as she watched him drive away. She clasped Jesse’s hand. “Thanks for backing me up.”
“You could have thrown that weasel off your land without my help.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re a lot stronger than you realize.”
With adrenaline surging through her veins, she felt strong and capable, felt as if she could take on the world…as long as Jesse was there to encourage her. “Those things you said to the sheriff. Did you mean them?”
“I’ve got no evidence that points to him, but I’m pretty good at reading people. Sheriff Trainer has a larcenous streak. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Clinton paid him a little something to come here and enforce that warrant.”
That thought hadn’t occurred to her, but it made sense. “And if he took a bribe from Clinton, he might be susceptible to a really big payoff from the kidnappers.”
“Like I said, a million in cash is a big temptation.”
And so was he. His gleaming white smile drew her toward him. If Clinton hadn’t been nearby, she would have gone up on tiptoe and kissed the smile off Jesse’s face, capturing it for herself.
Worried that she couldn’t resist him, she quickly looked away. “If we can’t count on the sheriff, we have to investigate on our own.”
“We?”
“You said it yourself. I’m stronger than I look.”
She stretched to her full height—five feet three inches of unmitigated self-confidence. She had no intention of living under a cloud of suspicion. If the sheriff thought she was guilty of working with kidnappers, others might think so, too. And Clinton had been quick to call her a thief.
There was no shame in being broke, but she wouldn’t stand for attacks on her character. She was a good person. If it meant tracking down a kidnapper to prove her integrity, she stood ready fo
r the challenge.
Jesse was a professional bodyguard, and he knew his business. When the people who hired him wanted to carry their own weapon or show him how they knew enough karate to defeat an attacker, trouble ensued. The client got arrogant and took risks.
As he stood beside Fiona, waiting for Burke and Clinton to emerge from her house, he launched into his standard lecture to clients regarding their safety.
“The reason I’m here,” he said, “is to protect you.”
“And I appreciate that more than you know.”
Her soft gray eyes reminded him of the skies before dawn when the light thinned and the world paused in restful silence before the new day. Though he acknowledged her inner strength, she was gentleness personified. An artist. A doting mother.
“I don’t want you to be physically involved in investigating,” he said. “Your job is to stay safe.”
“But I’ve already been helping you,” she said. “We searched my property together.”
Apparently, she hadn’t noticed his precautions. He’d been armed and alert. Wentworth had been within shouting distance. If he had sensed a threat, he would have stepped forward.
Or would he? Remembering the moment when they entered the barn, he’d been apprehensive. The shadows in that old structure seemed to have form and menace. Instinctively, his hand had gone to his gun. But he hadn’t turned back, hadn’t returned her to the safety of her house.
A serious lapse in judgment. It worried him. While focusing on the investigation, he hadn’t been an efficient bodyguard. That had to change. Though they hadn’t yet encountered a direct threat to Fiona’s safety, Richter was still at large. Still dangerous.
Burke held open the door to her house, and Clinton marched through, scowling and imperious at the same time. Jesse guessed that he hadn’t found what he was looking for.
“No tiara,” Burke announced gleefully. “We didn’t find a single item on the inventory list.”
“Because I don’t have them,” Fiona said clearly.
A more honorable man than Clinton would have offered an apology. He gave a sniff and looked away. “My business here is concluded.”
“Fine with me,” she said. “If I never see you again, I’ll have no regrets. But don’t forget Abby, your half sister. She deserves a chance to know her family.”
Unsmiling, he said, “I suppose.”
“You and your sister are welcome to see her. Any time.”
“Maybe,” he said grudgingly. “Someday.”
As Clinton drove away, Jesse looked up to the sky. There were only a few hours of daylight left. Time seemed to be slipping through his fingers. Today’s investigation had filled in a few blanks, but they hadn’t made much forward progress.
Jesse wasn’t playing to his strengths. He didn’t have the logical skills of a detective or the glib cleverness of an interrogator. He was a hunter. If he hoped to find the ransom and learn what had really happened to Nicole, he needed to trust his instincts.
Fiona looked at him expectantly. “What do we do next?”
There was that word again. We. “I want you to hook up with Wentworth at the Carlisle place. He’ll drive you into town to pick up Abby. Then back here.”
“I don’t want to hide,” she said. “I need to be involved. There must be something I can do. Some way I can help with the investigation.”
Everything about her—from the glow in her eyes to the way her expressive hands held out a plea—was an invitation. Dealing with Clinton brought out the feistiness in her; she was ready for action.
“You don’t have any experience in hunting,” he said.
“None.”
“And you can’t handle a firearm.”
“But I’m a really good observer,” she said. “I have an artist’s eye for detail.”
“That’s one point in your favor.”
“And I’m good at following orders. I’ll do whatever you tell me. Except for stay home.”
He frankly thought the risk was minimal. And he didn’t want to disappoint her. He turned to Burke. “We’re going to need two horses.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jesse preferred hunting alone. When he was a boy, his grandfather showed him the value of quiet observation. He learned when to wait and how to pursue his quarry, not only by following the tracks but also by listening and sensing. It was his nature to hunt. He never killed for sport, only for food. His grandfather taught him to respect all living things—the wapiti, the hare, the quail—that provided nourishment.
This hunting expedition was different. His prey was a criminal, who he held in low regard. And he was most definitely not alone.
According to Burke’s notes, the ransom was delivered at the same time the FBI operation was under way and while Dylan was meeting with his wife for the last time.
The ransom was delivered by Carolyn to a field west of the Carlisle ranch house. That would be their starting place. He and Fiona rode with Burke and Carolyn. As was her habit, Carolyn took the lead.
The terrain beyond the Carlisle ranch house spread from a vast, open valley covered with dry winter grasses and sagebrush to forested foothills. As the sun dipped lower, the shadows grew longer.
He rode close to Fiona. Her long brown hair streamed down her back under her fawn-colored cowboy hat. Though small and wiry, she handled her gray horse with skill. In spite of her sneakers, the former California girl looked as though she belonged in the saddle.
They slowed as they approached the barbed-wire fence surrounding a pasture. She gazed toward him with sparkling eyes. “Thanks for letting me come.”
He liked having her here. Wherever she went, Fiona had a calming effect. “I want you to use your powers of observation. Your artist’s eye might notice a detail that escapes the rest of us.”
Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the surrounding forest. “What kind of detail?”
“What do you see?”
“The big picture,” she said. “Vast and wide open. Faraway peaks covered with snow. This landscape is spectacular but subtle as well, with a monochromatic palette ranging from sandstone pink to khaki grasses to deep, rich mahogany shadows.” She breathed a reverent sigh. “I love being here.”
“Wait until it snows,” he warned.
“I’m looking forward to it. A white Christmas.”
Carolyn stopped at the gate in the barbed-wire fence. With a flick of her reins, her horse, Elvis, wheeled around to face them. “The kidnapper told me to bring the ransom here. I had the money in one of those huge mountaineering backpacks. He told me to leave it by La Rana.”
“What’s that?” Fiona asked.
Carolyn pointed to a fat rock formation in the middle of the field. It resembled a giant toad. “La Rana, the frog.”
Inside the barbed wire were water troughs and feeding stations. The earth had been trampled to a mix of dirt and hay.
“When she delivered the ransom,” Burke said, “there were three hundred head of Black Angus in this field. We moved them to get a better look at the crime scene.”
A man had been shot and killed at this site. The ranch foreman. He was a traitor, had been feeding information to the kidnappers. But his last act on this earth had been one of loyalty—trying to protect Carolyn.
Jesse dismounted, went to the gate and unlatched it. “Show me what you did, Carolyn.”
She rode through the gate, swung down from Elvis and joined him. “I went through here, dodging around the cattle.”
Fiona followed in Carolyn’s footsteps, leaving her horse behind. “That must have been terrifying. Those cattle are huge.”
“Over a thousand pounds each. This field is the last stop before the slaughterhouse, so these cattle were fully grown.”
“She wasn’t scared,” Burke said. “Carolyn loves her cows.”
“They’re beautiful creatures,” she said. “But when the gunfire started and the herd got spooked, I was plenty worried.”
“How did you get out of here alive?
”
“Burke.” She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a grin. “He rode in here and saved me. My hero.”
“Aw, shucks,” he said. “Any decent cowboy would have done the same.”
Carolyn laughed. “As if you’re a cowboy? What kind of cowboy wears a Cubs cap?”
“A cowboy from Chicago.”
Jesse strode across the dirt toward the boulder, La Rana. “Where was the kidnapper?”
“I never actually saw him. But he was near the rocks. That’s where the gunshots came from. And the ransom was gone almost as quickly as I left it.”
Burke, still on horseback, rode up beside him. “We tried to gather evidence, but there was nothing. The cattle obliterated everything. Didn’t even find a footprint.”
The kidnapper had come up with a simple and effective plan for grabbing the money. He lured Carolyn into the pen, fired his weapon and spooked the cattle. She was too busy trying to make it to the fence to go after him. “How fast did Burke get here?”
“Five to ten minutes.”
“In the confusion,” Burke said, “the kidnapper made his getaway.”
Jesse leaned his back against the rocks and surveyed the area. Hundreds of cattle and dozens of horses trod this patch of earth. Picking out the track of the kidnapper inside the enclosure would be impossible.
Beyond the fence, a couple of dirt truck paths crossed back and forth, providing access for delivering feed to the pasture. The forest reached almost to the edge of the fence on the north side of the barbed wire.
If Jesse had been planning a getaway, he would have preferred the mobility of being on horseback to using a vehicle. “Did you see his horse?”
“Afraid not,” Carolyn said. “I was dancing as fast as I could, trying not to get squashed.”
Jesse returned to his horse, stuck his boot into the stirrup and braced himself for the jab of pain that came from using his shoulder. The stress on his body was taking a toll, but he couldn’t take the time to sit back and recuperate. The fastest route to full recovery would be to find the ransom.
“Where are we going?” Fiona asked. “We’ll search along the perimeter of the barbed wire on the north side,” he said. “The kidnapper had to get out of this enclosure, carrying a ransom. His horse must have been tethered in the trees.”