Colorado Abduction. Cassie Miles
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Pacing on the carpet, she snapped at her brother, “Don’t drink that coffee. Caffeine keeps you awake.”
“Somebody needs to be alert.” He leaned against the desk and faced the sofa where Burke sat. “Looks like we made a mistake.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“The kidnappers don’t want the FBI involved.”
“Of course they don’t.” Her temper flared. “That’s exactly why Burke and his men are staying here. We need their expertise.”
“Why? We’re paying the ransom. I’m not taking any chances with my wife’s safety.”
“You want reasons?” In spite of her brother’s distress, she had to be brutally honest. “I don’t think I can get my hands on a million dollars in cash by the deadline.”
“Why not? I’m sure there’s a way.”
“Even if we pay, there’s no guarantee that the kidnappers will bring Nicole back.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I know.”
“We’re ranchers, Dylan. We don’t know squat about crime. The best way to deal with these kidnappers is to follow the advice of experts. Right, Burke?”
He didn’t bother to nod. Instead, he sat in self-contained silence. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but hoped he had some kind of plan that involved more than sitting here waiting for the next call from the kidnappers.
Lucas Mann poked his head into the office. “I got a question for you, Carolyn. The men are asking if maybe you could see fit to give their guns back.”
“Seems to me that you’ve got plenty of other guns.”
“Well, sure.” He raked his fingers through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. “Most everybody has backup weapons. But we want all the firepower we can get. Especially since some polecat is shooting at us.”
“And I suppose you’re missing your pretty new Glock nine millimeter?”
“Ain’t she a beaut?” A proud smile stretched his face, and she noticed the wad of chewing tobacco that made a pouch in his cheek. “I bought it when all this sabotage started up. Gave my old piece to MacKenzie, that new kid.”
“I’m assuming,” Burke said from the sofa, “that you legally transferred ownership.”
“Speaking of sabotage,” Carolyn said, quickly changing the subject. If Burke got official about the paperwork for all the firearms on this ranch, there would be trouble. “What’s your opinion, Lucas? Who do you think is behind it?”
“Don’t know who,” he said, “and I don’t know why. But it all started when we moved a couple hundred head onto the south grazing pasture, near the Widow Grant’s property.”
Dylan grumbled, “Don’t start.”
“Carolyn asked a legitimate question,” Lucas said. “And she deserves an answer.”
Apparently, there had been a dispute between these two. “Please, Lucas, continue.”
“The first time I found a fence post torn down, I told Dylan that we should herd them cattle to a different area. He wouldn’t hear a word of it. Then we had another incident. And another. Dylan still wouldn’t change his mind. He sure can be pigheaded. Not meaning any disrespect.”
“I didn’t move the cattle,” Dylan explained, “because I’m trying a new system of rotating the herd.”
On the sofa, Burke leaned forward. His heels hit the floor with a loud thump—a subtle but effective way to get their attention. “Lucas, can you tell me why having cattle in that pasture might provoke vandalism?”
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