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“Nothing. No lights on inside that I can see. No smoke from the fireplace in the dining room. No vehicles in the area and no tire tracks. If someone is in there, they took great pains not to be discovered.”
Another phone rang. Julia reached into her pocket. “That’s mine.” She frowned as she caught sight of the number. “I don’t recognize it.” She put it on the desk and answered it at Rosalie’s signal.
A hoarse cough rasped over the speaker. “Is this the cop who called my grandson?”
“Yes, this is Officer Ford of the Red Snow PD. Is this Hank Moore?”
“Yeah.” He coughed again, then cleared the sludge from his throat. “Why are you asking questions about the out-of-towner in my store? He has every right to buy cigarettes and whatever else he wants from me.”
“Moonshine,” Easton mouthed.
He rubbed his stomach as if he thought old Hank made good hooch. Rosalie noticed Cannon nod in agreement. She’d have to pay a visit to Mr. Moore before she left, not to bust his moonshine operation but to sample some herself.
Julia took a deep breath. “Mr. Moore, we have reason to believe that your customer is involved in the kidnapping of a little boy and is holding him in the area. The child is an eight-year-old male and was last seen in a Grand Pines ambulance.”
“Nope, haven’t seen it.”
“Please call this number if you see anything suspicious or think of something you forgot to tell us. Oh, and one morequestion, Mr. Moore. Do you know if there has been any activity at the old Emory diner?”
“What do you mean by activity?” He hacked again. And again.
Rosalie cringed. Maybe he should stop sellinghimselfcigarettes. “Mr. Moore, this is Special Agent Rosalie Zenner of the FBI. Have you seen anybody going in or out? Maybe that ambulance Officer Ford mentioned?” The chances of the kidnappers keeping the vehicle were slim, but if Aidan was still on a gurney, he’d have to be transported in something big enough to hold it.
“The FBI has no business with me.”
“We don’t, but we do with the missing boy.” In her experience, most people who thought the government was watching them had a reason to feel that way.
An illegal reason.
“Look, lady, I don’t know of any places around here big enough to hide a van, so leave me alone.”
Rosalie smiled. Catching a clue that a suspect didn’t mean to leave always gave her a rush. “I didn’t mention a van or ask you if you knew any place big enough to hide one. Do you, Mr. Moore, know of a place big enough for a van to hide?”
“I know what you’re up to. You’re twisting my words to get me to confess to something.”
“I don’t care what words you use or what you don’t want to confess. I just want to find the boy. Tell me what you know about such a place, or the FBI will be there to bust your tobacco sales to minors and your moonshine side hustle before you have time to light another cigarette.”
TWENTY-THREE
Rosalie glanced in the rearview mirror of the SUV. “I don’t like Ford being part of this operation.”
Paul switched on the high beams. “He’s not. He’s in the ambulance that will be a half mile out and will stay there until called. If we find Aidan alive in that diner, he’ll need immediate medical treatment. The kid knows Ford, and he can keep him calm.”
But who would keephercalm? She’d always called her dad for a confidence boost before working in the field. As a seasoned agent, he’d advised her what to do. As a father, he’d told her what she needed to hear. She snuck a look at Paul. He did a bang-up job at providing the former and tried his best at the latter, but…
The headlights from the van that transported Jimmy and a team from Denver glowed behind them in the predawn darkness. The ambulance followed behind.
“Let’s go over what we know one more time.” Talking about logistics always helped calm her before an operation. “Hank Moore bribed a city official to delay the demolition of the diner so he could use it for his moonshine operation. His nephews outfitted the side with a garage door so they could load theirproduct undetected. They also built a room in the center of the kitchen. No windows—again, to assure privacy—but adequate ventilation for a propane heater. If Aidan is in there, that is likely where he is being held.”
Paul touched her knee. “You usually reiterate a plan out loud two to three times, never four, which tells me you’re worried about something.”
“I’m fine.”
Paul glanced her way. “Your dad would approve, you know.”
“Approve of what?”
“You and Ford.”
