Free Stone Cold by Dean Crawford

on her death,’ Maietta said as she leafed through her notes. ‘There’s motive there, at least.’
    ‘And she owns that gallery, right?’ Griffin asked.
    ‘Has the freehold,’ Maietta replied. ‘I figure it’s a half million or more of prime retail space.’
    Griffin frowned. ‘Even if the abductors got everything, including the McKenzie’s house, they wouldn’t get much past five million bucks. It doesn’t figure, unless the husband’s playing some kind of elaborate game here.’
    ‘Good time to find out,’ Maietta said. ‘Half the damned state’s on alert.’
    Because the abduction had occurred within the Great Falls city limits, the case had become a GFPD responsibility, but the FBI had immediately been notified of the incident and investigation. The popular TV drama notion of police departments and Federal agencies being at loggerheads over jurisdictional control of cases was a fallacy: upon notification of the abduction, virtually every agency had leaped at the chance to offer assistance.
    BOLOs, Be On the Look Out reports, had been sent state–wide and regionally by teletype. Border Patrol and Customs and Border Protection, CBP, for the Canadian Border had also been notified in case the abductors made a run north for Canada, just over a hundred miles away. A Missing and Endangered Persons Alert would be sent out and the Criminal Justice Information Network, National Crime Information Center and Rocky Mountain Information Network all utilized to disseminate info to law enforcement agencies. To add to that, Homeland Security had been informed and US Marshals Service were being kept apprised of the situation. Cascade County’s Sheriff’s Office and the Montana Highway Patrol had been issued with images of Sheila McKenzie, and although Great Falls no longer had an FBI Field Office, the Bureau was also discreetly sending out images of the victim across the country.
    In short, whoever was holding Sheila McKenzie against her will would find it almost impossible to move her about the country without somebody seeing something.
    ‘Tight as a mosquito’s ass,’ Griffin agreed with some satisfaction. ‘Now we gotta hope they’re not smart enough to just stay put with her. What about Talbot, Sheila McKenzie’s former boss?’
    ‘She’s alibied out,’ Maietta replied almost apologetically. ‘She’s in the damned Bahamas, multiple witnesses, and apparently couldn’t care less about McKenzie. I guess she’s made her money and is out of the game.’
    ‘So much for Saira’s story of her being out for McKenzie’s blood,’ Griffin muttered. ‘We got anybody else?’
    ‘Nobody,’ Maietta replied.
    They walked into the main terminal and, following directions relayed to Maietta by Ventura Air’s staff, found their way past the bustle of the terminal and out to a remote storage facility away from the public buildings. A member of Ventura’s staff with a solid alibi for the abduction met them and led them to what Griffin figured was some kind of staff room: Formica table stranded alone in the centre, one shelf with a battered old microwave, a water cooler and stacked mugs grimy with age.
    The door closed behind them and a silence enveloped the room as they waited.
    ‘How’s Angela?’ Maietta asked as she leaned against the wall, her arms folded defensively as though bracing herself for the response.
    Griffin shrugged. ‘She’s fine. Why?’
    ‘You haven’t mentioned her much lately, is all.’
    ‘Not much to mention.’
    ‘Are you guys okay?’
    ‘Are you my counsellor now?’
    Maietta shrugged and fell silent. Griffin sighed.
    ‘She’s a little up–tight, you know?’ he said finally.
    Maietta raised a dark, delicately curved eyebrow but said nothing. Griffin looked at her. ‘What?’
    ‘Nothin’.’
    ‘Crap, I know that look,’ Griffin said. ‘What, you think I’m to blame?’
    ‘I didn’t say that. It’s none of my business.’
    ‘Damn right it’s not,’ Griffin snapped.