Chapter Eighteen

After driving to the other three locations Sammy had pinpointed, Evan was no closer to obtaining a search warrant. Seemed like this area really did have as many llama farms as Georgia had peach orchards. He had his own reasons for thinking Noah was right about the first location they'd been to. That place pinged his radar louder than a brass band belting out "Jingle Bells."

The call box he could go with. In fact, the third farm they'd been to had one, and no one had answered that one, either. But none of the other farms had security cameras. What he hadn't told Marlie about was the pressure pad hidden beneath his feet in front of the gate. From the moment he'd stepped on the pressure pad and pressed the button, someone could have been watching them, taking their photos or videoing them the entire time. Maybe both.

Having a heightened security system wasn't a crime, and it wasn't enough to convince the U.S. Attorney's Office or a federal magistrate he had probable cause for a search warrant. It was a start, but he needed more than just Noah's and his hunches.

He turned onto 18 th Street in the center of Cheyenne. Reception was so bad he'd called Brett three times before finally getting through to notify him they'd be stopping by the local PD. He backed in next to a cruiser and threw a police placard on the dashboard. "I'm leaving Blue with you. Brett will stay outside." He pointed to Brett's SUV backing in next to them.

"Okay." Marlie gave him a half-hearted smile that drew his attention to her lips. Lips he needed to stay away from.

His stomach growled with emptiness as he jogged up the stairs to the front door. In the lobby, a uniformed officer sat at a raised desk behind a glass window. Evan flashed his creds and asked to see the duty sergeant. A minute later, a heavy metal door at one side of the lobby opened, and a stocky sergeant with graying brown hair and a brass name pin on his chest that said T. Browning lifted his chin in Evan's direction.

Again, he flashed his creds for the sergeant to see.

Browning glanced down. "You new here?"

"No." He shook his head, understanding the sergeant's curiosity. The FBI had five offices in Wyoming, two of which were in Cheyenne. "I'm from the Denver office. All our Wyoming agents are down there on a case." His case, to be precise.

"What can I help you with?" Browning asked, still propping open the door.

"I'm working a missing children's case." He pocketed his creds. "There may be a Wyoming connection. I'd like to pick your brain on a few things."

Browning waved Evan through. He followed the sergeant down a gray hallway and into a small office. The radio on the credenza behind the desk crackled with routine patrol calls. Browning indicated a folding metal chair next to the desk. "Pick away."

He wasn't sure how much to reveal. Even in a landlocked state, loose lips had sunk many a ship. He dug out Manello's BOLO printout. "Have you seen this guy around?"

Browning took the printout and shook his head. "No, but I have seen this BOLO. It came over the wire about a week ago." He handed the sheet back to Evan.

"Have any children gone missing from your jurisdiction in the last few years? Including runaways?"

Browning scratched his chin. "We do have a few runaways here and there, but they always come home. Had a kidnapping last year, but the father turned out to be the culprit. Grabbed his daughter, took her to Mexico. We got the kid back."

Interesting . Could be the camp ringleaders were smart enough not to arouse local suspicion by poaching in their own backyard. "Do you know the owners of the gated farm at the end of Painted Sky Road?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Never met 'em. Not sure anyone in this department actually has."

"How long have they owned that property?"

"About twenty-five years now."

"You looked it up?"

"Yep." He nodded. "At least twenty years ago. I remember because it was one of my first cases. A couple of guys in a bar were bragging about working on a pot farm out there, so we looked into it."

Evan leaned in. "And?"

"And nothing. We couldn't get on the property and couldn't prove a thing."

"Did you do any flyovers?"

"Nah." He shrugged. "With everything else going on in the city, it wasn't worth our time or the money it takes to put a bird in the air."

"What about the two guys in the bar, did you interview them?"

"Tried to. They up and disappeared before we could talk to them. They didn't have any family in town, so we let it go and closed out the case. No witnesses, no case."

"Have you heard of anyone named Evelyn or Adama associated with that farm?" Browning shook his head. "John and Margaret?"

"Nope."

The probable cause he'd been hoping to squeeze from the sergeant was slipping from slim to none. "Are there a lot of llama farms in the area?"

"Sure are. In the last ten years, three new ones opened up just outside Cheyenne. Tourists love 'em, and they love buying a genuine"—Browning hooked his fingers into quotation marks—"Wyoming llama sweater. My wife got me one for Christmas. Darned thing itched so much I nearly scratched the skin off my bones."

Evan understood why the PD hadn't pursued the case. They had an entire city to protect. But he wasn't about to leave any stone unturned. "Do you still have pedigree information on those two guys who disappeared?"

"You bet." He tapped on his keyboard for a few minutes, then flipped the screen around for Evan to see. "Once they disappeared, so did the rumors. Something I should know about?"

How convenient . Too convenient, in Evan's book. "Not yet."

Pedro Cordova and Harrison Grimes . He snapped a shot of the screen, making sure to include both men's DOBs and social security numbers. Workers were the best source of information about their place of work. If anyone could find them, it would be Sammy.

"Thanks for your help." In reality, Browning hadn't added much to Evan's case.

After shaking hands, he followed the sergeant back to the lobby.

Browning handed him a business card. "Don't hesitate to call if you need anything else or if there's something I should be aware of."

"Will do." He pocketed the card and reciprocated with one of his own. He was about to leave, when something else occurred to him. "Do you know anyone who currently works at the farm on Painted Sky Road?"

Browning thought for a moment. "As a matter of fact, I don't. I can ask my officers. If I hear of anyone, I'll let you know."

"Thanks." He pushed through the heavy door into the lobby. His gut told him the reason Browning didn't know anyone who worked at that farm was because all the workers were children.

Now he just had to find a way to prove it.

…

Marlie lowered the window to let in fresh air. The breeze blowing against her face was warm, yet cooler than in Denver, with hints of the winter season not far off.

She looked over her shoulder. "Was that game already loaded on the tablet?"

"No." Noah had the tablet propped on his lap, his attention riveted on a video baseball game. Blue's big head occasionally jerked left then right as players raced around the bases. "Evan bought it for me."

"That was nice of him." Especially since Noah's mitt was probably sitting in an FBI evidence locker. The man was not only a good lover but unexpectedly thoughtful. "When did he do that?"

"This morning while you were in the shower," he said, his eyes still glued to the screen.

Right. The shower . While she'd been washing parts of her body that hadn't been touched in over three years and were so tender, she'd flinched when the hot spray hit them.

Noah's eyes glittered as he tapped the screen like a video game pro. Her chest tightened at the thought of sending him off to a new family, but he needed a home, a family, and stability she wasn't capable of providing. Not yet, anyway.

"I think he likes you." Noah looked up from the tablet for the first time since they'd arrived at the police station.

"Who does?"

"Evan. I think he wants to kiss you." Noah puckered his lips and made smoochy noises.

Marlie nearly snorted. That ship already sailed. "What makes you think that?" Lordy, was she really pumping an eleven-year-old for information on a guy?

Oh, yeah . She really was.

He rolled his eyes. "Jeez, anyone can see it. He watches you. A lot." His grin widened.

"I hadn't noticed." Except for last night. In his bed, while he'd watched her orgasming. The memory of all the delicious things he'd done to her body made that still-tender spot between her legs spasm as if she were reliving the moment.

Blue jerked his head up and huffed.

"I just talked to Evan," Brett said.

Marlie gasped. She'd officially met Evan's friend only that morning. Now he stood right outside her open window.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't." Liar . "I was just…" Fantasizing about Evan. Even now, she felt the heat blooming in her cheeks.

"You okay?" Brett frowned. "You look flushed."

"Um." She cleared her throat. "I'm fine. It was getting hot in here, so I lowered the window." Good recovery. "What did Evan have to say?"

"He's staying inside to check his email and make a few calls. Cell service is marginal up here. Email's worse." Brett's dark blue eyes watched her with something more than professional curiosity. "So, are you coming to Deck's wedding this Saturday? I heard you say ‘no.'"

"I said I'd think about it." Stupidly .

"You should come." He smiled, nodding. "It's gonna be a great party. I hear you already know Tori, Deck's fiancé. You can meet my girlfriend, Gemma."

"Yeah, c'mon, Marlie." Noah leaned over the edge of the seat. "I wanna go to a wedding."

"I don't know." She swallowed at the thought of being around so many people. "Evan is in the wedding party. He'll be busy. He won't have time to—"

"Don't worry," Brett cut her off. "We'll all take care of you."

"You don't have to do that," she countered. "He's only inviting us because he wants to keep an eye on Noah."

"That's part of it." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But I don't think he would have invited you unless he wanted you to be there, too."

"Why would he want me to be there?" Lord . Was there anyone she wouldn't pump for information?

He grunted. "Can't say. That's for you guys to figure out. You really should come."

"See, Marlie?" Noah grabbed her sleeve, shaking her arm. " Pleeze , say yes."

One look into his animated green eyes, and she was lost. "Fine," she said on a heavy sigh. "We'll go." She was such a sucker. Noah had her twisted around his finger.

"Yesss." Noah stuck his fist through the window for Brett to fist-bump.

"Here he comes." Brett hitched his head.

Evan came down the front steps and started across the asphalt. His long legs—legs she'd wrapped hers around as he'd thrust deep inside her last night—quickly ate up the distance. She really needed to stop thinking about last night.

Brett chuckled as he swung his gaze from Evan back to her. "Yeah. You should definitely come to the wedding."

Wonderful. He'd caught her ogling Evan. For the second time in five minutes, heat flamed her cheeks.

"Problem?" Brett asked.

"I spoke with Brian." Evan rested his hand on the window ledge. His jaw clenched so hard she thought it would crack. "Lakewood PD just reported another boy missing."