Rocky Mountain Rescue

“He and Sam’s mother—Sammy’s grandmother—live on a ranch somewhere in Colorado.”

The hairs on the back of Patrick’s neck stood up. There was something to this Abel Giardino. Maybe the Colorado connection they’d been looking for. “Did you ever meet Abel?”

“He and the grandmother came to our wedding. He looked like some old cowboy.”

“And the mother?”

“The mother was scarier than either of her sons. She didn’t approve of me and threatened to give me the evil eye if I wasn’t good to her only grandson.” Stacy shuddered, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “After meeting her, I know why Sam was so mean.”

“All the more reason for us to offer you protection.”

“I told you, I don’t want your protection!”

At the sound of her raised voice, Carlo stirred and whimpered. She bent over him and made soothing noises. In that instance she transformed from cold and angry to warm and tender. The contrast struck him, made him feel sympathy for her, though he didn’t want to. She was a member of a crime family, probably a criminal herself. She didn’t deserve his sympathy.

When the boy had settled back to sleep, she looked at Patrick again. “Please, just let us leave,” she said.

He stood. “I’ll have someone take you to your hotel.”

He left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He found Sullivan in his office down the hall. “Have you heard of Abel Giardino?” Patrick asked.

Sullivan shook his head. “Who is he?”

“Sam’s brother. He supposedly was never involved in the family’s crimes. He lives with his mother somewhere in Colorado.”

“Could he be the reason Sam was in the state?”

“It would be worth checking out. Stacy says Sam talked about choosing his brother to succeed him as head of the family, instead of Sam Junior.”

Sullivan made a note. “Did you get anything else out of her?”

“Only that she apparently hated her husband’s guts. And she doesn’t appear to have fond feelings for any of the rest of the family.”

“No confirmation on the senator?”

“She said she hadn’t seen him around.”

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

“Hard to say. She’s not one to give anything away. I’ll ask Sergeant Robinson to take her and the boy to the hotel for the night and we’ll try again in the morning.”

He called the sergeant’s extension and gave the officer his orders: take Mrs. Giardino and her son to the hotel they’d selected and stay on guard until someone else came to relieve him.

He returned to his office and sat back in his desk chair. He liked to review a witness’s answers while they were fresh in his mind. He looked for patterns and inconsistencies, for vulnerabilities he could exploit or new information he needed to explore further. Certainly, he wanted to know more about Abel. But he wanted to know more about Stacy, too, and how she fit into this sordid picture of a family of criminals.

Instead of thinking about what Stacy had said, his thoughts turned to everything she hadn’t said. Why had her father and Sam arranged for her to marry Sammy—if that had indeed happened? What had the Giardinos done to make her so afraid? Was she really as ignorant of their dealings as she claimed?

And why did she get to him, making him forget himself and want to comfort her? Protect her? Was she just a good actress, accomplished at manipulating men, or was something else going on here? He needed to understand so he could avoid making a wrong move in the future.

A sharp knock sounded on the door. “Come in.”

Sergeant Robinson, a thin, balding officer, leaned in. “Sir?”

“What is it, Sergeant? Why aren’t you with Mrs. Giardino?”

The sergeant’s gaze darted around the office, as if he expected to find Stacy Giardino standing in the corner. “She’s not with you?”

“No. She’s in interview room two. I told you that.”

The sergeant swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “The interview room is empty, sir. Mrs. Giardino is gone.”

Chapter Three

Stacy wasn’t about to wait around for Sergeant What’s-his-name to haul her off to a hotel room that would be little better than a prison. She’d had enough of men telling her what she could and couldn’t do and where she could and couldn’t go. Now that Sammy was dead, she had a chance to start life over, but she was going to do it on her own terms.

She checked the hall to make sure the coast was clear, then woke Carlo. “Time to go, honey,” she said, hoisting him onto one hip.

“Where are we going, Mama?” he asked.

“We’re going to stay in a hotel. Won’t that be fun?” She kept her voice to a whisper, but tried to sound excited for Carlo’s sake. “They’ll probably have a pool and you can go swimming.”

“Will Daddy be there?”

His face was so serious—too serious for a little boy. “No, Daddy can’t make it. But you and I will have a good time, won’t we?” Soon, when things were more settled, she’d have to tell him about his father. Though Stacy had long ago ceased to like, much less love, her late husband, Carlo adored his daddy, even though Sammy had spent less and less time with the boy in the past months. She wasn’t sure a three-year-old would understand death, but Carlo would be devastated once he accepted his father wasn’t coming back. She’d postpone that pain for him a little longer.

Once in the hallway, she headed for the door marked Stairs. Less chance of running into anyone than if she risked the elevator. Fortunately, she only had to go down two floors and there was a back door. Probably where all the smokers went to sneak a cigarette, she thought, and slipped out, praying an alarm wouldn’t sound.

The door opened into a parking lot at the back of the building. Only a few cars sat in the glow of overhead lights. A stiff breeze blew swirls of snow around her feet as she hurried across the concrete. She needed to find her way onto the main drag and lose herself in the crush of tourists.

She followed the sounds of voices and music to Telluride’s main street, where she fell into step behind a crowd of adults and children—a big family group on vacation, she guessed. A quick check over her shoulder told her the brawny marshal wasn’t following her—he was tall enough she’d have spotted him, even in this crowd. And he had the clean-cut good looks and alert attitude that pegged him as law enforcement from half a mile away.

She checked the shops along the street and spotted one that advertised children’s clothing. A woman with a kid wouldn’t stand out in there. She set Carlo down and pretended to look through the racks of clothing while he headed for the toy box against the wall. She needed a plan.

“Can I help you find something in particular?” an older woman in a black wool skirt, pink blouse and boots asked.

“You have such great stuff here,” Stacy gushed. “I wish I had more time to shop. I just ducked in here while I’m waiting for my husband. But I’ll be back tomorrow when I have more time.”

“Your son is adorable,” the woman said, and she and Stacy both turned to watch Carlo fitting big foam blocks together.

“Thank you.” Stacy offered her most dazzling smile. “He’s going through that phase where he just loves trains and buses and airplanes. Does Telluride have a bus station?”

“Not really. Some of the hotels run shuttle buses to the airports, and there are buses to the ski area.”

“Thanks. I was just curious.” She could rent a car to get away, but that required a credit card and ID and would be easy to trace. She pulled out her phone and pretended to read a text. “Got to go. Come on, son, we have to go.”

“But I want to stay here and play,” Carlo said.

“We’ll try to come back tomorrow and stay longer.” She held out her hand and Carlo took it.