ROCKY MOUNTAIN RESCUE by Cindi Myers Page A

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