in that dank root cellar must have made her think differently about the darkness.
Her fingers curled loosely below her chin. He noticed the bruises at her wrists where the handcuffs had been. Seeing those marks infuriated him. He eased the sleeve of her nightgown higher up her arm, revealing more black and blue skin. Damn Nate Miller. The son of a bitch had escaped.
Dylan glanced at the bedside clock. It was only a few minutes past eleven o’clock. While Nicole was sleeping, he could slip downstairs and find out what was happening with the ongoing investigation into Nate’s whereabouts.
Leaving the bed, he tucked the covers up to her chin. She didn’t stir. Not a bit. Not even when he kissed the tip of her nose. His wife was an angel from heaven. And Nate deserved the tortures of hell for what he’d done to her.
Downstairs, he found his sister and FBI agent J. D. Burke sitting side by side at the dining-room table, staring at a computer screen. Burke had been the first federal agent on the scene when Carolyn called in the FBI to investigate the kidnapping. The rest of the FBI team had left after the ransom was paid, but he’d stayed—mostly because of his unexpected relationship with Carolyn. Burke wanted to marry her, God help him.
Carolyn stood. “How’s Nicole?”
“Sleeping. She doesn’t seem to be in bad shape, but it’s hard to tell.” He thought of the bruises and winced. “She’s never been a whiner.”
“I’m telling you,” Carolyn said. “She needs to be checked out by a doctor.”
“And if that’s what Nicole wants, I’ll drive her to the hospital.” He looked toward Burke. “What happened with Nate?”
“He’s gone.” Burke stood and stretched. He was a big man—a bit taller than Dylan and a lot heavier, all of it solid muscle. “When I’m done with this case, I will never again undertake another investigation in the mountains. People disappear around here like thistles on the wind.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Carolyn said. “People can hide in the city, too.”
“But cities have surveillance cameras. And other people who can give information.” He glowered. “The only eyewitnesses around here are the nighthawks and the cattle.”
“I want him found,” Dylan said. “I won’t rest easy until Nate Miller is either dead or behind bars.”
Burke turned the computer toward him. On the screen was a map of the area. “We’ve been trying to figure out where to look. Sheriff Trainer and his men are keeping an eye on Nate’s little house in Riverton. And a couple of other deputies are posted at the Circle M in case he returns there.”
“We should get the FBI back here,” Dylan said. “With surveillance choppers and sniffer dogs.”
“We tried that when we were first looking for Nicole,” Burke pointed out. “Not a real successful tactic.”
Though Dylan had grown up at the ranch and was familiar with this land, they were dealing with thousands of acres—much of it heavily forested. “Seems like the only person who’s had any luck with tracking is Jesse Longbridge.”
“Luck is what we need,” Carolyn said. “The forecast for tomorrow is snow.”
Snowfall and freezing temperatures would drive Nate out of hiding. “Do you think he’ll stay in this area?”
“It’s not logical for him to stick around,” Burke said. “Jesse and Fiona recovered most of the million-dollar ransom when they finally tracked down Pete Richter at Nate’s house, but there’s still over a hundred thousand missing. That’s enough money for Nate to start a new life somewhere else.”
But he had strong ties to this area. He’d lived here all his life, and his four-year-old son was here. Surely he’d never see the boy again. Nate’s ex-wife wouldn’t allow him to be get within a hundred yards of their child.
“If he goes somewhere else,” Dylan said, “how will we find him?”
“Nate’s in the law enforcement system now. There’s a warrant out for his arrest. And an APB. Any cop who sees him will pick him up.”
“And if he isn’t picked up?”
Burke lifted his coffee mug to his mouth and took a sip. “A lot of lawbreakers are never apprehended.”
Too easily, Dylan imagined Nate changing his name and hiring on as a handyman or cowboy at a ranch somewhere far away. Most ranchers weren’t particular about job history when they hired a new hand, and Nate had skills. In addition to ranching, he’d been working as a handyman for years. “He might get away with this.”
“It’s too bad Nicole’s asleep,” Carolyn said. “If Nate’s around here, she might have some idea where he’s hiding.”
“Nobody is going to question her.” Dylan was firm on this point. “She’s suffered enough. It’s best for her to just forget about what happened.”
“If she can forget,” Burke said. “That’s a big if.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not a profiler, but I know a thing or two about victims of violent crimes. It’s important for people who’ve gone through trauma to tell their stories.”
“I agree,” his sister said.
“Of course you do,” Dylan muttered.
Carolyn always complained about how cowboys kept their feelings bottled up. She’d rather have them sit around the campfire and have group therapy. “Nicole needs to talk about what happened.”
She reached up and tightened her ponytail. Her coloring, with black hair and green eyes, was the same as his. She was tall and lean, like him. The two of them looked like the male and female version of the same DNA pattern. They were both stubborn and competitive, constantly butting heads.
“I don’t want you interrogating her,” Dylan said. “Either of you.”
“Even if it’s for the best?” Carolyn asked.
“I’ll decide what’s best for my wife.”
He heard a soft footstep behind him and turned. Nicole, wearing a navy blue velour robe, stood behind him. “Actually,” she said, “I’ll make that decision.”
He wrapped an arm around her and escorted her to a chair. “I don’t want you to be pressured. Your only job is to get well.”
When she looked up at him, her gaze was sharp and determined. “Here’s what I want,” she said. “Nate Miller in jail.”
“We’re on the same page,” he said.
“If there’s any way I can help put him there, I’m ready.” She looked at Burke. “Ask your questions.”
Moments ago Nicole had
