Chapter Eight
They found their attackers’ car parked on the side of the road a quarter mile away, the keys in the ignition. A quick search of the backseat found ammunition for the weapons, some rope, a roll of duct tape and a couple blankets. The trunk contained two suitcases, an empty gas can and a spare tire. “Looks like they planned to tie you up and cover you with the blanket,” Patrick said, tossing her one of the coverlets. “Wrap yourself up in this. You must be freezing.”
“Maybe they were just going to wrap up my body until they could dispose of it,” she said.
“It would have been easier to leave you for dead back on that deserted road.” He slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. The deeper they got into this, the less sense it made. Kidnappers took the boy, but left Stacy unharmed. Then different men came back for Stacy. They hadn’t killed her outright, which seemed to indicate they had intended to take her somewhere alive. The anonymous female caller threatened to kill Carlo if Stacy and Patrick kept coming after them, yet someone had set up an ambush on the most obvious secondary route for them to take. Once again, the attackers hadn’t killed Stacy, but had seemed to want her alive.
When he’d come upon the two thugs they’d been firing into the underbrush, shouting for Stacy. He took up his position behind a rock and called to them and they turned their attention to him. He’d been close enough to pick them off before they killed him.
He turned the car around and set the heater to run full blast. By the time they reached the highway he was starting to feel his feet again.
Stacy stirred and rearranged the blanket more tightly around her. “I recognized one of those men back there,” she said. “The tall one with the pale eyes. He worked for Sam.”
He hadn’t expected this; so far everyone they’d encountered had been a stranger to her. He slowed the car and glanced at her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’d never forget a face like that.” She pulled the blanket more tightly around her. “He creeped me out. He was always staring at me.”
“What did he do for Sam? Do you know?”
“He was just another thug. Muscle. An enforcer.”
“Was he at the house the day Sam was killed?”
“No. He didn’t come to Colorado with us. He worked in New York. He wasn’t one of the family bodyguards, or anyone who spent a lot of time around the house. He was just, you know, an employee. He came to the house a few times to meet with Sam.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“A couple months ago?” She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe a little longer. Whenever he showed up I always left the room, so I have no idea why he was there.”
“Who could he be working for now?”
“I have no idea about that, either.”
“Do you remember his name?”
“No. I don’t think I ever heard it. It’s not like Sam introduced me to the people he worked with.”
“My people will run his fingerprints—maybe they’ll come up with a match. Did he say anything about why they wanted to kidnap you?”
Her face went a shade paler. “He said a lot of things about what he wanted to do to me—but nothing beyond threats. I thought he wanted to kill me, though I think he planned to...to hurt me first.” She swallowed, visibly gaining control of her emotions.
He covered her hand with his own. “I don’t think they—or whoever they were working for—wanted you dead. If that was the case, it would have been so much easier to leave your body in the canyon. Safer, too.”
“But the caller said I was to stay away, and I thought since we hadn’t, they wanted to punish me.”
“We don’t even know if the caller and these guys are connected. Or maybe the call was just a ploy to get us to take a different route. There aren’t that many ways to get to Crested Butte. Whoever wants you could have reasoned it would be easier to stop us and separate us in a remote canyon. Did either of those men say anything to let you know what they were up to? Or who they worked for?”
“No. They never mentioned Carlo or where they were taking me or who they were working for or anything useful.”
“What about the other guy? Did you recognize him?”
“Not really. But I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the men who came and went at the house. I only remember the one guy with the pale eyes because he was so creepy.”
Her voice shook, all the fear and terror of her ordeal condensed in those few words. “You did great,” he said, hoping to bolster her spirits. “You kept your head and you didn’t stop fighting. You got away.”
“Thanks to you. I was afraid they’d found you first and killed you.”
“They never saw me until it was too late.”
“Well...I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad I’m not trying to find Carlo on my own.”
She slumped against the car door, weariness in every inch of her posture. Fatigue dragged at him as well, the long hours and constant tension catching up with him. “You look exhausted,” he said. “Even if we make it to Crested Butte, there’s no way we can locate the ranch tonight. I think we should stop and rest before we go on.”
“No, we have to keep going. If we can just get some coffee, I’ll feel better.”
“All right.” Maybe coffee would help. And something to eat, though he wasn’t hungry.
Over an hour passed before he spotted the gas station/convenience store set back from the highway. A sign advertised Beer and Bait and Clean Restrooms. “I’ll fill up the car while we’re here,” he said, pulling up to the gas pumps. “This looks like the only place for miles.”
“All right. I’ll get some coffee and try to clean up a little in the ladies’ room.” She started to open the door, but he put a hand out to stop her.
“Here.” He slipped out of his coat. “Your jacket’s torn and muddy. Put this on.”
“It’s miles too big.”
“Then it will cover more of you.”
She looked down at her clothes, which were all but in tatters after her dash through the briars in the canyon. “I guess I am a mess. All right. Thanks.”
She tossed the blanket in the backseat and pulled on his coat. She pushed the sleeves up and wrapped it around her as tightly as she could. She looked like a high school girl wearing her boyfriend’s letter jacket. Cute.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked.
He hadn’t even realized he’d been smiling. “Nothing. You go in and get what you want. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done filling the tank.”
When he came inside she was adding cream and sugar to a large cup of coffee. “You should get something to eat, too,” he said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know. But we’ll both feel better if we eat.”
She selected a couple granola bars while he added a ham sandwich to their purchases. While he waited for the clerk to tell him the total, he suppressed a yawn.
“I know the feeling,” the clerk said. “I come on shift at three this morning—I was supposed to get off at eleven, but the other woman didn’t come in, so I had to work a double.”
“I’m going to go on outside to wait,” Stacy said, gathering up her coffee and snacks.
“I’ll be right out,” he said. He handed a twenty to the clerk. “When you were working this morning, did you see a little boy, about three years old, with blond hair? He was probably with a man.”
She counted out his change. “Who wants to know?”
He took out his ID. Showing it was a risk; if she’d seen the bulletins saying Durango police were wanting to question him, she might conclude he was a fraud or somehow on the wrong side of the law and contact the authorities. He didn’t have time to waste straightening out this mess. But if she had seen Carlo and his captors it would confirm he was on the right track.
He decided to risk it, and flipped open the leather folder. She studied it and nodded. “Who is it you’re looking for, again?”
He took out his phone and clicked on Carlo’s picture. “This is the boy I’m looking for. His name is Carlo. He was taken from his mother last night. We think the men who took him headed this way.”
She leaned close to study the picture, then nodded. “I saw him. At least I’m pretty sure it was him. He was crying, kind of throwing a temper tantrum, the way kids do when they’re so tired. The man brought him in to go to the bathroom and the boy didn’t want to go back out to the car. He sat down on the floor over there and the man had to drag him away. All the while he was crying and calling for his mommy.” She looked stricken. “I wish I’d known. I thought he was just being a brat. I always watch for those AMBER Alerts and such. I haven’t seen anything about this kid.”
“It’s a sensitive case. We’re trying to keep it quiet for now. Can you describe the man he was with?”
She frowned, concentrating. “He was maybe six feet, kind of thin, dark clothes. He was bent over the boy, so I never really saw his face.”
Patrick slid the phone back into his pocket and checked her name tag. “Thank you, Marne. You’ve been very helpful. Did you see what kind of car they were in?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. They parked around on the side and it was dark over there.”
“If you remember anything else, call this number. Let them know you spoke to me.” He handed her his card.
“I will. I hope you find him.”
“Thank you.”
He waited until he’d driven away to tell Stacy. “We’re on the right track,” he said. “The clerk back at the store thinks she saw Carlo early this morning. He was with a man who sounds like the one who snatched him from your room.”
“She did? Why didn’t you tell me before?” She turned to look back the way they’d come. “We have to go back. I have to talk to her.”
“There’s no need for that. She already told me all she knew.”
“Turn this car around now! I want to talk to her.”
The intensity of her anger hit him like a wave. He held on to the steering wheel more tightly, half believing she’d rip it from his hands. “Will talking to her really make you feel better, or only upset you more?” he asked, trying to make his voice as calming and gentle as possible. “It would definitely upset you. Isn’t it enough to know we’re on the right track?”
She wilted back against the seat. “Nothing will be enough until he’s safe again. But if I could just talk to her....” She looked back again, twisting her hands in her lap.
Common sense and all his training told him turning around to talk to the clerk again would be a waste of time they could better use finding the uncle’s ranch. But her longing to cling to even this tenuous contact with her son tore at him. He slowed the car, then pulled to the side of the road and headed back the way they’d come.
He pulled up to the front of the building and Stacy had unhooked her seat belt and opened the door before he’d even shut off the engine. He followed her into the store, where a pasty-faced young man looked up from behind the front counter. “Where’s the woman who was working here a few minutes ago?” Stacy asked.
The man shook his head. “There’s no woman working here,” he said.
“Her name was Marne.” Patrick approached the counter and showed the clerk his marshal’s ID. “She was working a double shift. I spoke to her for several minutes.”
“You must have the wrong store,” the clerk said. “I don’t know any Marne, and I’m the only one working today. I came on at seven this morning.”
“You’re lying.” Stacy gripped the edge of the countertop and stood on tiptoe, leaning toward the taller young man. “We were just here and Marne was here. If this is your idea of a joke, it isn’t funny.”
“I swear, there’s no one named Marne here. There’s no one else here at all.”
Patrick glanced at the camera mounted over the front camera. “You have security tapes. I want to see them.”
“You’ll have to talk to the manager about that. And he’ll want a subpoena.” The clerk raised his chin defiantly, but his gaze didn’t meet the marshal’s.
“Where’s the manager?” Stacy asked. “I want to speak to him.”
“He isn’t here. He won’t be in until tomorrow. But if you want to leave a name and number, I’ll tell him to call you.”
Patrick gently took Stacy’s arm. “We’re wasting our time here,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“But he’s lying! I know that woman was here. I saw her. You talked to her. Why is he lying?”
“Come on.” Patrick urged her toward the door. “We’ll figure this out, I promise.”
Back in the car, he locked the doors, half-afraid Stacy would rush back into the store and physically attack the clerk. “He’s lying,” she repeated, sending a murderous look toward the clerk, who watched them with a sullen expression.
“Yes, he is.” Patrick started the car and backed out of the parking space.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “Are you just going to let him get away with that? Maybe he’s holding Marne hostage in a back room. Maybe she’s in trouble because she talked to you.”
“I think Marne is probably fine,” he said. “Though her name likely isn’t really Marne.” He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial button for his office.
“Who are you calling?” Stacy asked. “What are you going to do?”
“Give me Special Agent Sullivan.” He pulled the car into a lay by about a mile from the store. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he said to Stacy. “Give me a little bit.”
“Sullivan.” The lieutenant’s voice was brisk and confident.
“Thompson here. I need you to send a team out to Lakeside Grocery in Lakeside, Colorado, about two hours outside of Durango on Highway 50. Get a subpoena for the front counter surveillance tapes. I want to know the details and background on every clerk who worked there last night and today, and anyone who came in. I’m especially interested in an older female clerk with a name tag that says Marne, and a man who may have come in with the little boy we’re looking for, Carlo Giardino. While you’re at it, you should also get a team out to County Road 7N in the same area. We had a shootout with a couple guys who tried to kidnap Stacy.”
“Any casualties?”
“Two.”
Sullivan swore under his breath. “What is going on with this case?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Focus on the gas station first—those guys in the canyon aren’t going anywhere.”
“Sure thing,” Sullivan said. “What’s up?”
“I talked to the clerk, Marne, a few minutes ago, and she told me she was working this morning when a man brought Carlo into the store to use the restroom. But when Stacy Giardino went back there to talk to her just now, there’s a clerk—with no name tag—who swears there’s no one named Marne there, and he’s the only one on duty.”
“You think someone set you up?”
“I do. See what you can find out and let me know.”
“Where will you be?”
“We’re headed to Crested Butte. I’m more and more convinced the boy is there.”
“You could be headed into a trap,” Sullivan said.
“It feels that way, but I’ll be careful. Something big is going on here, and I want to know what.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
He ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket, then turned to Stacy. “You should have threatened that clerk,” she said. “Made him tell you where Marne was.”
“I’m sure that’s what Sammy would have done.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “It would have worked. The clerk would have talked.”
“Maybe. Or someone watching in the back room would have opened fire and killed us all.”
She pressed both palms to her forehead and moaned. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” she said.
“I’m not sure,” Patrick said. “But I think Marne was a plant. Someone told her to tell us about seeing Carlo and one of the kidnappers. Once she’d done her job, she was paid off and sent away.”
“But why do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to make sure we headed in the right direction. To lure us. All of this seems orchestrated to keep us eager to get to Crested Butte.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. Those men in the canyon tried to kill us. They must have been waiting to ambush us. And before that, we got the phone call warning us away.”
“They tried to kill me. They wanted you alive. They tried to kidnap you. And maybe the warning was really to get me away—they still wanted you, but they needed to find a way to separate us.”
“They threatened me. I think they wanted to take me away and torture you.”
“Men like that think threats will make a captive more compliant and easier to handle. I’ll admit, I’m impressed you got away from them.”
“I’ll do anything to save my son.” She shifted in her seat and looked away.
“Since they couldn’t kill me and they failed to bring you in, maybe plan B is to lure us to where they can try again.”
“Are you saying the kidnappers want us to find them?”
“I think they want us where they can pick us off and shut us up,” he said. “Whether or not Carlo is being held at his great-uncle’s ranch, a remote property in a rural area sounds like an ideal place to get rid of the two people who have been interfering with the kidnappers’ plans.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Are you saying the woman was lying, too—that she never saw Carlo?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she saw him and maybe she didn’t. Her job was to make us believe Carlo and the kidnapper passed through here so we’d keep following the trail of breadcrumbs.”
“And are we going to keep following it?”
“I think we have to, but I want more information first.”
“What kind of information?”
“I want to know who’s behind this, for one thing.”
“I thought we’d decided Uncle Abel was behind it. Isn’t that why we’re headed to Crested Butte?”
“But why would Abel want Carlo? He doesn’t need him to step in and take control of the Giardino business. He’s the only surviving Giardino male. He could just show up and start giving orders.”
“I don’t care why he’s doing this—I just want my son.”
“I want your son, too. But we can’t go barging into an ambush. We need to know more about what we’re dealing with.”
“You’re dealing with an old man who hasn’t had anything to do with the family for years.”
“But you said Sam threatened to turn the business over to him, passing over Sammy. That could mean the brothers had been in touch.”
She shifted in her seat. “Maybe. Or maybe we’re looking at this all wrong and Abel isn’t the one behind this at all.”
“If not Abel, who do you think it is?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the old woman—his mother.”
“You think Carlo’s great-grandmother kidnapped him?”
“I think that woman is capable of anything.” She shivered. “The one time I met her, she gave me the creeps. She was a regular witch, and she ordered everyone—including Sam—around like they were slaves.”
“Maybe, but my instinct is that someone bigger is behind this.” An eighteen-wheeler rocketed past on the highway, shaking the car.
“What do you mean, bigger?” Stacy asked.
“Think about it. Someone is going to a lot of trouble here—planting witnesses, tailing us. That takes manpower, and vehicles and weapons—all that adds up to a lot of money.”
“Abel and his mother have money, I’m sure.”
“Not that kind of money.”
“So who do you think is behind this?”
“Do you remember I asked you about Senator Nordley?”
She nodded. “You think a senator masterminded all this? Why?”
“Power? Money? Because he has secrets he wants to stay secret?” Patrick shook his head. “I don’t know, but word is that Nordley was behind Sam’s escape from prison last year. And Anne—Elizabeth Giardino—said she saw him at the house right before our raid.”
“But if Nordley was working with Sam, whatever secret he had died with Sam.”
“Maybe. But maybe it’s not about secrets. Maybe it’s all about money. Politics is an expensive business. If an ambitious man like Nordley wanted to, say, run for president, he’d need a great deal of money to do so. The Giardinos have that kind of money. If he did a favor for the family, they would want to reward him.”
She considered this. He was glad now he’d brought up the subject. He’d been a little worried she’d become hysterical, or more distraught, but he should have known better. She was sharp, and talking with her was helping him to organize his own thoughts and theories. She’d said she wanted to be a lawyer, but she would have made a good agent, too.
“So you think Nordley helped kidnap Carlo for Uncle Abel? But why? It still doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it’s doesn’t,” he admitted. “But I’m going to keep working at it until it does make sense. After that, we’ll know the best move to make.” He put the car into gear.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“We need to find a place to hole up for a while, to plan our next move.”
“No!” The fierceness of her objection—the sudden change from calm to agitated—unsettled him. Yes, she’d been through a lot, and her emotions were on edge, but she’d never struck him as the hysterical type. He hesitated, his hand on the gearshift.
“The more we delay, the more danger Carlo may be in,” she said. “We have to go to him now.”
“We don’t even know for sure he’s at the ranch—or where the ranch is, exactly,” he said. “We’ll be putting him in greater danger if we barge in without a plan. And we’ll be putting ourselves at risk, too.” He turned his attention back to the road and prepared to pull the car out onto the highway.
“Stop!”
He groaned. This was not an argument he wanted to have. What had happened to the reasonable woman he’d been admiring only seconds before? “Look, Stacy—” He turned to her and the words died on his lips.
She held a gun in both hands and it was aimed right at him. “I won’t let you keep me from my son,” she said.