Page 29 of Not Our Daughter

“We can’t do that, Lisa. The police presence here in the valley will continue to grow. The longer we’re here, the more likely we’ll be found.”

“Okay, then what?”

“I could try to talk my way through a roadblock again.”

“No way. We got lucky the first time. We can’t risk it twice.”

“You’re probably right. Dammit.”

They both ducked down when another police vehicle with red and blue lights blinking sped past the gas station on Highway 40. Grand County Sheriff’s Department. The police were even coming in from Hot Sulphur Springs. That made him think of his friend, Jacob, who worked Animal Control for the sheriff’s department over there. He was a good guy. They’d fished together several times. An idea suddenly materialized in his head.

He quickly pulled back onto Highway 40 and drove the opposite direction.

“Where are you going?” Lisa asked.

“Fishing.”

“What?”

“Give me a second, and I’ll show you.”

Five miles up the road, Cole again passed a stationary police vehicle blocking a county road intersection. A hefty cop was currently talking to someone in an old truck. About two hundred yards down from the intersection, Cole pulled off onto a gravel entrance in front of wide-open ranchland. He stopped in front of a cattle gate and quickly got out. He needed to be quick, as to not be spotted from the highway. Theranch belonged to the wealthy father of one of his former students. It had a huge, stocked fishing pond on the property. Because he was a favored teacher, Cole had been invited to use it whenever he wanted—which he did quite often. There was a combination lock on the cattle gate. Cole had stored the number code in his old cell phone, but he’d have to somehow pull it from memory now. He spun the lock back and forth. Pulled. It stayed locked. He tried another set of numbers. It remained locked. He tried a third time without success. And then a fourth. Dammit! He had so many numbers running through his cluttered brain right now.

He looked back over to the van, where both Lisa and Jade watched him closely through the windshield. He could see the hopelessness in Lisa’s eyes. He had to remember this damn code already. It might be their only chance to escape from here. He studied the small lock, wondered if he could somehow break it off the gate with a rock or something. Not likely. He ran a hand over his shaved head, stared across the vast property.Come on, Cole. Think hard.Then another number set entered his mind, and he went back at it again. Bingo! He exhaled. After pulling open the gate, he got back into the van.

“Where are we?” Lisa asked him.

“The McNallys’ ranch, where I fish all the time. They have about five hundred acres here. I just remembered there’s a back entrance at the other end of the property. Cutting through the ranch will allow us to bypass the police roadblock.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “We’ll be able to get back on the county road on the other side.”

“And where will that take us?”

“All the way over to Parshall. Thirty miles away.”

“Thank God,” she whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nineteen

Burns pulled into a storage property on the outskirts of Granby, eighteen miles down the road from Winter Park. A sign at the front saidGilley’s Auto and Boat Storage. Two police cars were parked just inside the entrance. An officer sat inside one of the SUVs, while another leaned against the other vehicle and talked on his phone. A skinny older man wearing denim overalls and a gray ski cap and smoking a cigarette also stood there with the police officer. Burns immediately noticed the security gate for the property had been knocked off its hinges and lay in a crumpled metal mess on the pavement. The owner of the storage facility had apparently stopped in around midnight, found the wreckage, and called the police. They’d discovered a battered green Subaru Outback with license plates matching their search.

“You think they kept an extra vehicle here?” Davis asked, sitting in the passenger seat.

“I doubt they came here to get their boat tonight.”

“Right.”

Burns eased the Tahoe through the entrance and stopped next to the wrecked Subaru. The front end of the vehicle was completely smashed up. It looked undrivable, which was probably why it had been abandoned at the front of the property. They both got out and circled the damaged Subaru. Burns opened the driver door. There wasn’t muchinside the vehicle. A package of wipes in the console, some loose change, couple of pens and hair bands—that was about it. Nothing at all in the back seat. He reached under the steering wheel and pulled the lever for the hatchback. The only thing they found in the back of the vehicle was a blue sports bag with a girl’s T-shirt, shorts, socks, and athletic shoes.

They walked over to the officer standing beside his vehicle, made formalities.

Officer Marshall introduced the old man. “This is Jethro Gilley. He owns the facility.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” Burns asked him, urgency in his tone.

“Not much to it. Stopped in ’bout twenty minutes ago. Found the damn front gate smashed to hell. Called the police. That’s it.”

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