Calder Pride (Calder Saga 5)

“Look around some more. I’ve already called the FBI. They’ll have agents here in the morning. Tell Cat to get some sleep if she can.”

“I will.”

Logan hit the disconnect switch on the mobile phone, then paused. He still had one more call to make—to Chase Calder. For the next few days at least, he wanted Quint and Cat installed at the Triple C, where they would be safer.

Nerves. Cat showed them as she raked fingers through her hair whipping it into place. But she had control of them, too, Logan observed with a touch of pride. That showed as well.

“Are you certain there were only two men, Mrs. Echohawk?” The question came from Matt Russell, the younger of the two agents. He sat in one of the den’s tall-backed chairs that usually faced the room’s massive desk. It was angled now toward the leather couch where Cat was seated.

“No, I am not certain.” Impatience surfaced in her voice. The question was another variation of a previous one as the agent went over the same ground from a different direction. Logan was familiar with the routine. He also knew that rewording a question sometimes elicited vital bits of information. “But I only saw two men,” Cat said again, then paused and released a heavy sigh. “In all honesty, I can’t swear they were even men. They were just two dark figures.”

“Do you recall if both ‘figures’ were approximately the same height and build?”

“I don’t recall anything about them. I have no idea whether they were tall or fat, thin or short. I wish I could give you a better description, but—when I realized the starlight wasn’t casting any sheen on their faces, that their heads were covered by some kind of ski mask, I knew I had to grab Quint and get out of there. I’m sorry. I know I’m not being very helpful.” Sighing again, Cat reached for the insulated coffeepot to refill her cup.

“On the contrary, you’re being very helpful,” Agent Russell assured her.

Temper flashed in her green eyes. “I know better, Agent Russell. Please don’t humor me.” She snapped open the lid to the coffeepot and tipped its spout over her cup. Only a trickle of coffee came out. Annoyed, she set the pot back on the serving tray and shot a quick look at her father. “Dad, would you ask Audrey to bring some more coffee?”

Chase sat behind his desk, a silent, impassive figure all through the lengthy questioning of his daughter. At Logan’s request, he had asked no questions of Cat when they arrived at the ranch early this morning, which meant he was hearing many of the details for the first time.

“I’ll get it,” Ty spoke, moving away from the fireplace before Chase could reach for his cane.

The empty coffeepot in hand, Ty crossed to the double doors and pushed one open. A telephone jangled in another part of the house, the strident sound intruding into the quiet of the den. The extension on the desk remained silent, its bell switched off.

Earlier in the morning, the press had gotten wind of the attempted kidnapping of—as they were putting it—the heir to the Calder empire. The telephones at both the sheriff’s office and the Triple C hadn’t stopped ringing since. Two reporters had already been politely escorted off the ranch, and Logan had posted a deputy at the entrance to the Circle Six to keep the media away. It was only a matter of time before the television crews arrived, and they would have to contend with helicopters buzzing overhead.

As soon as the door closed behind Ty, Russell resumed his questioning. “What made you feel so strongly that you had to get away?”

“Logan said to run—”

“How was he able to tell you that?” The second agent, an older man by the name of George Markus, turned from the window where he’d been standing, his sharp gaze locking on Cat. “The telephone line to the house had been cut.”

“I didn’t mean he told me that night. It was before then…after—”

Catching the hesitation in her voice, Logan stepped in to explain, “My wife was assaulted a few weeks ago. Afterward, I showed her a few self-defense tactics and stressed as strongly as I could that the best defense was to run.”

“This is that Lath Anderson you were telling us about?” Markus asked, seeking clarification.

“Yes.”

Chase rocked forward in his big chair, the movement drawing Cat’s glance. “I guess I should have mentioned it to you, Dad, but—nothing happened. I wasn’t hurt. He just had me trapped and I couldn’t get away. Then Uncle Culley came and—it was all over. He left. I—” Breaking off the sentence, she swung to Logan. “You don’t think it could have been Lath and his brother I saw?”

“I don’t know, Cat. I did see both of them last night, working alongside the other volunteers fighting the grass fire. But I couldn’t swear that they were there the whole time.”

“We’ll check that out.” Agent Markus thumbed an antacid tablet from the roll in his hand and popped it in his mouth.

Ty came back with the coffee. After filling C

at’s cup, Logan poured one for himself, then offered it to the agents. Both men shook their heads, and Markus turned back to the window.

After the agents were satisfied they had gleaned every grain of information from her about the actual kidnapping attempt itself, they asked the usual questions of everyone: Had they noticed anything suspicious the last few days? Seen anyone hanging around? Received any strange or unusual phone calls? What about enemies, disgruntled employees, anyone holding a grudge, recent hirings, recent firings, arrests, convictions?

From outside came the drone of a motor, overridden by the distinctive chop of helicopter blades. “A television crew getting some aerial footage of the ranch,” Markus remarked from his post at the window. Glancing sideways, he looked at Chase. “This is one time, Mr. Calder, when publicity can be an ally. If the spotlight is big enough and bright enough, it can scare them off completely.” He held up a hand, as if expecting a protest. “I’m not saying we aren’t going to do everything we can to catch these guys. But what we don’t want is for them to make another try for your grandson.”

Logan nodded. “You or Ty need to draft a formal statement, call a press conference and read it to them, show them a solid family front. Maybe offer a reward.”

“Not here on the ranch,” Chase stated. “I don’t want camera crews and photographers crawling around here.”