Bodyguard Under the Mistletoe (13 page)

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.”

“We already searched,” Burke said. “None of the fencing was cut.”

Still, there might be a sign where the kidnapper slipped through. They left the enclosure and rode slowly along the fence line. Five horizontal strands of barbed wire stretched from weathered posts. The lower two feet were reinforced with chicken wire that would act as a break against snowdrifts.

Jesse knew from experience that climbing through a barbed wire fence was a lot harder than it looked. All it took was one snag to get hopelessly entangled. But these fences weren't impermeable.

Hoofprints at the edge of the fence showed the efforts of a search team, and also obscured any prints from the kidnapper. He wished he could have searched immediately after the ransom had been delivered. The ground was too dry and hard to take neat, perfect footprints. But there would have been broken twigs and shrubs.

He swung his horse around and started back again. “Who were your searchers, Burke?”

“The FBI team had their hands full, rounding up the survivalist gun smugglers. As soon as they were free, we sent the chopper over this area with a spotlight.”

That method was akin to using a monkey wrench when you needed a pair of tweezers. Tracking was about noticing the tiny details.

“And the sheriff,” Burke said. “He and his deputies looked over here.”

“Sheriff Trainer seems to be establishing a regular pattern of searching and not finding.”

He paused at a spot where the top strand of wire had been pulled loose from the staple attaching it to the post. In the packed earth outside the fence, he saw rectangular marks about eighteen inches apart.

“Over here.” He pointed to the sharp-edged tracks in the dried grass about ten feet away from the fence.

Carolyn dismounted and measured the distance between the two marks with her hands. “A ladder. He rested a ladder on the top wire and climbed over.”

“Consistent with his m.o.,” Burke said. “Low-tech.”

“But effective,” Carolyn said. “No wonder he got out of here so fast.”

Burke scowled. “How did we miss this?”

“Good question,” Jesse said. Once again, he was thinking of Sheriff Trainer. He'd been quick to point the finger of suspicion at Fiona. To divert it from himself?

“I don't get it,” Fiona said. “Did the kidnapper make a getaway on horseback while he was carrying the backpack with the ransom and a ladder, too?”

“He must have disposed of the ladder.” Jesse peered into the thick forest. “If they'd made a full search with one man posted every three feet, they would have found it.”

“And what would that prove?” she asked.

“Not a damn thing. We don't need the ladder. Finding this track is enough.”

“Enough for what?” She cocked her head, curious about his process. “We already know the kidnapper was here and took the ransom. So what are we looking for?”

“We want to pick up his trail, which probably starts
somewhere in those trees. Then we can track him, figure out where he went from here.”

She gave a quick nod. “Got it.”

“Spread out,” Jesse said. “Let's move into the trees.”

They dismounted and led their horses into the forest. Daylight was fading, and he hoped they could pick up the trail before dusk settled. Tracking at night presented a whole other set of problems.

It was Fiona who called out, “I found something.”

He hadn't expected her to be able to notice a track. She wasn't a hunter. “What is it?”

“Well, I stepped in it. There was a horse here, and he left behind a nasty little present.” She stood with her foot in the air above a dried pile of manure. “Can I wipe off my sneaker?”

“No way.” Jesse turned to Burke. “Those road apples are evidence, right?”

He stifled a chuckle. “Absolutely.”

Jesse took out his cell phone. “Stand right there, Fiona. I need a photo of this. Lift that foot up a little higher.”

Aware that she was being teased, she pointed her toe and posed. “How's this?”

He took the shot. Even with dried manure on her shoe, she was damned cute. “Okay, now let's zoom in for a close-up.”

“I'll zoom you.” Laughing, she dragged the sole of her shoe across the trunk of a tree. “Okay, smart guy. I found where the horse was. Let's see you do your tracking thing.”

His “tracking thing” turned out to be easier than he expected. He hunkered down and studied the hoof marks. Immediately, he noticed, “This horse was missing a right front shoe.”

“Like the horse at the Circle M,” Fiona said.

“The black mare that Abby wanted to ride.” That minor
irregularity meant this track would stand out from the many others. “Finally. We caught a break.”

“What break?” Carolyn demanded. “What are you two talking about?”

Fiona explained, “We were over at the Circle M earlier today. One of the horses owned by the SOF had thrown a shoe. The kidnapper must have been riding that horse when he picked up the ransom.”

“Which means,” Jesse said, “that we now have a trail.”

His instincts were leading them in the right direction. Though he wasn't a detective, he had found the key to this investigation by being true to himself. He should have done that from the start, followed the course of less thinking and more action.

 

T
HOUGH
F
IONA WOULD
have enjoyed staying with Jesse and Burke while they tracked, the trail got really complicated: uphill into the forest, then across a rocky area and down to a dirt path. It was obvious that they'd be tracking for hours, and she needed to pick up her daughter from Belinda's.

She and Carolyn returned to the Carlisle ranch house.

Inside, they were greeted by Carolyn's mother, Andrea. A tall, slim woman in denim and cashmere, Andrea greeted them with a warm smile. She didn't hug. Andrea was reserved.

She'd divorced Sterling Carlisle and left the ranch when Carolyn and Dylan were children. Fiona couldn't imagine ever leaving Abby, no matter what the circumstance. But she was sympathetic to Andrea, who—according to Carolyn—had wanted the children to move with her to New York City. Both Carolyn and Dylan had chosen the ranch.

As an adult, Carolyn had spent some time with her
mother, who was remarried and had a twelve-year-old daughter. Their relationship seemed okay. When Carolyn called her mother and told her that Nicole had been kidnapped, Andrea hopped on a plane and came to the ranch to offer her support in this time of family crisis.

Dylan hadn't been happy to see his mother.

“Good news,” Carolyn told her. “We found a track from the kidnapper's horse. Burke and Jesse are following the trail.”