Книга - Missing In Blue Mesa

Missing In Blue Mesa
Cindi Myers


A cult, a missing infant…And a fearless lawmanTo prove her sister’s murder, Michelle Munson infiltrates the cult led by Daniel Metwater. But when her baby disappears, Michelle knows she's too close to their secrets and turns to Ethan Reynolds. This lawman will fight to protect the woman he loves…







A cult, a missing infant... And a fearless lawman

To prove her sister’s murder, Michelle Munson infiltrates the cult led by “Prophet” Daniel Metwater. Having endured a tough life in foster care, she’s fiercely independent and distrustful of police. But when her baby disappears, she knows she’s come too close to learning Metwater’s secrets, and turns to Ranger Ethan Reynolds for justice. Facing down harrowing danger in Colorado’s wilderness, the resolute lawman fights to protect Michelle...and open her heart.

The Ranger Brigade: Family Secrets


CINDI MYERS is the author of more than fifty novels. When she’s not crafting new romance plots, she enjoys skiing, gardening, cooking, crafting and daydreaming. A lover of small-town life, she lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in the Colorado mountains.


Also available by Cindi Myers

Murder in Black Canyon

Undercover Husband

Manhunt on Mystic Mesa

Soldier’s Promise

The Guardian

Lawman Protection

Colorado Bodyguard

Black Canyon Conspiracy

Rocky Mountain Revenge

Rocky Mountain Rescue

Visit millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more information


Missing in Blue Mesa

Cindi Myers






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07858-0

MISSING IN BLUE MESA

© 2018 Cynthia Myers

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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For Vicki


Contents

Cover (#u848157ce-c305-53d1-bf62-eb31d9ca8d7e)

Back Cover Text (#udb8381aa-758f-5c79-9421-902af1699117)

Author Bio (#ue620a320-112e-58a9-beab-ff33dd3be2b0)

Booklist (#u68883cb8-a590-5856-9dc9-e9dc95140247)

Title Page (#u5d7767f1-fd67-5200-8ae8-fd5c5f5ce6e9)

Copyright (#ud015b078-4935-50c0-84c1-1d281c00cf5a)

Dedication (#u9ef7f088-8c63-5d2e-9b01-cf3705ae6286)

Chapter One (#u65ba85a1-04cc-58c1-a453-beb535a58ac5)

Chapter Two (#u4d3d101c-8e82-531d-a82a-3d915f4d6c1e)

Chapter Three (#u7e805d50-3600-528f-9fd2-190e3a7353a8)

Chapter Four (#u4babcc7c-2694-594e-bad4-b64d521d0920)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u6340eaef-e5e7-554b-8f25-e033b5cc8ce4)

She didn’t have much time. No more than twenty minutes—probably less. No telling what would happen if he caught her in here. Everyone said he wasn’t like his brother, but how could they be sure? The two were twins—identical twins. If one of them was a murderer, who was to say the other one wasn’t capable of that, too?

Michelle jammed the piece of wire into the keyhole on the door to the motor home again and felt the catch give. She could thank Mom for that particular skill. How many times had she locked little Michelle out of their trailer while she was entertaining her boyfriend, or when she was sick of the kid? Then she’d get drunk and forget to let her back in.

Or that was what she said.

Better to thank Joey Staskavitch for teaching her how to pick the lock to get back in on her own. She wondered whatever happened to Joey. He was probably in jail, or dead. That was where most of the boys from her neighborhood had ended up.

Starfall—her real name was Michelle Munson, though nobody here knew that—pushed open the door to Daniel Metwater’s motor home and stepped into the darkened living room. The noise from the festivities in the center of the encampment faded, though orange light from the bonfire cast grasping shadows across the walls and furniture. “Prophet” Daniel Metwater was dancing around the bonfire, leading his followers in mesmerizing chanting. They loved it. They could listen for hours to their Prophet’s words about how they were special and better. Most of them had never been special to or better than anyone, but he made them believe it.

Michelle tiptoed across the room, headed for the back of the motor home, and Metwater’s bedroom. That was where he would keep anything private. Anything he didn’t want his adoring followers to know about.

The bedroom door, at least, wasn’t locked. No one but his closest disciples were allowed in here—and the women he bedded, who considered it a privilege to sleep with the Prophet. Michelle wasn’t one of those women. He had tried to seduce her when she first joined his little cult, but she’d put him off with a chilling stare. The gorgeous Daniel Metwater, like his twin, David, wasn’t used to being turned down, but he must have seen something in her that made him wary, because after that he left her alone.

Alert for any sounds outside the room, she eased open the top dresser drawer and riffled through the contents. She worked quickly, passing over the clothing and toiletries. The bedside table held only books and sex toys. She wrinkled her nose. Not going to go there. She shut the drawer and hurried to the closet. Dropping to her knees, she felt along the floor and the back wall. That was where she would stick a safe, but all she encountered was two pairs of shoes and a pile of dirty clothes.

After glancing over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone, she flicked on the penlight she had tucked into the pocket of her jeans and swept the beam along the floor and up the walls. Nothing interesting there. Frowning, she rose. Where was the locket? Her tent mate, Asteria, Metwater’s “secretary” and the person closest to him, had described it in such detail. “Gold, with a pear-shaped diamond in the center that is at least two carats,” Asteria had said. She would know. Before hooking up with Metwater, she had been Andi Matheson, wealthy socialite and only daughter of a high-profile senator. She had seen her share of two-carat diamonds, though she claimed to now prefer the simple, nonmaterialistic life of following the Prophet through the wilderness. Right. Only people who had spent all their life around money could make a spiritual discipline out of giving it up.

“It looked old,” Andi had said about the locket. “He said it was a family heirloom. He plans to give it to the baby after she’s born.” She had cradled her eight-months-pregnant belly and smiled. “To think that he loves her so much already that he’d want to give her something so valuable.”

Michelle had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from pointing out that Daniel Metwater didn’t love anyone but himself. The locket was an heirloom, all right—but not from his family. Michelle’s foster sister, Cass, had inherited the necklace from her grandmother. She had been wearing it the night she was murdered by David Metwater.

Michelle left the closet and returned to the front room. She should have asked Asteria about a desk. Metwater probably had one, and maybe he kept the locket there. Maybe he had other things that had belonged to his brother, too—papers or a diary or anything Michelle might be able to use to prove that David had killed Cass.

The police said Cass had died of an accidental heroin overdose, but that wasn’t true. She didn’t do drugs. The night before she died, she had confided to Michelle that she had learned some things about her new boyfriend, David, that upset her. “I’m going to confront him,” she said. “I need to know the truth.”

The truth was, David Metwater had murdered Cass so that whatever she had learned about him wouldn’t get out.

Michelle spotted the desk between the living and dining areas—a built-in shelf with a couple of drawers. A laptop sat open on the shelf, and her fingers itched to take it. She’d probably find all kinds of interesting information on that...

She shook her head. Too risky. She had come here for the locket, and time was running out. The drums outside had quieted, which meant the evening “services” were winding down. She pulled open the desk’s center drawer and swept the beam of the penlight over the contents—paper clips, pencils, pens, business cards, a tube of lip balm—no locket. She shut the drawer and was reaching for another when light flooded the room. She froze, heart hammering painfully, unable to breathe.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Daniel Metwater demanded.

Michelle turned to face him, but before she could reply, he crossed the room in four strides and grabbed her by the shoulders. His normally handsome face was a mask of rage. He shook her so hard she bit her tongue, tasting blood. I’m dead, she thought, as she stared into his cold, hard eyes. I’ll never see my son again.

* * *

SPECIAL AGENT ETHAN REYNOLDS, FBI, stared down at the collection of half a dozen battered metal license plates arranged on the conference table at the headquarters of the Ranger Brigade, the multi-agency task force he was attached to. Before joining the Rangers, who were responsible for dealing with crime on the vast stretches of federal land in southwestern Colorado, Ethan had never realized how many criminals operated in the relatively deserted interior of national parks, wilderness preserves and protected recreation areas.

“You’ve verified these are all from stolen cars?” he asked his fellow agent, Immigration and Customs Enforcement Officer Simon Woolridge.

“Every one,” Simon said. “A wildlife biologist with the Forest Service found them in an abandoned badger den near the end of Redvale Road. The Forest Service laid down a traffic counter on that road a couple of weeks ago and noticed heavier-than-expected traffic, so they were on the lookout for anything unusual.”

“That’s right about when this latest rash of thefts started,” Ethan said. “So the thieves take the stolen cars to that remote area and strip the plates—then what?”

“Replace them with new tags,” Simon said. “Probably forged dealer tags. They could print those up on any laser printer. Then they wait until dark and drive them out again, to a chop shop or even straight to Mexico.”

“Then we need to stake out the site and grab them when they show up again,” Ethan said.

“Unless they’ve moved on to a different location,” Simon said. “The heavy rains two days ago washed out the road pretty badly. It doesn’t look as if anyone has been up there since that storm. My guess is they’re still in the area, but they’ve relocated.”

Ethan glanced toward the large map of the Rangers’ territory that filled one wall of the conference room. “How do we find that location?”

“We’ve alerted the park Rangers and the Forest Service, and anyone else who’s likely to be in the area to be on the lookout for cars with dealer tags and anything meeting the description of the stolen vehicles,” Simon said. He stabbed a finger at a point on the map. “The biologist found the license plates here. Does the location make you think of anything?”

“It’s very near Daniel Metwater’s camp at the base of Mystic Mesa.” Ethan nodded to the red flag someone had positioned on the map. Metwater, scion of a wealthy industrialist and self-styled Prophet, had finagled a long-term camping permit for himself and roughly twenty followers in the Curecanti National Recreation area.

“It’s less than ten miles by road,” Simon said. “You could travel between the two sites over a network of old logging roads without ever having to risk being seen on the highway.”

“That doesn’t mean Metwater or any of his people had anything to do with the car thefts,” Ethan said.

“No, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t,” Simon said. “I find it interesting how many recent crimes have a connection to that bunch.”

“Metwater would point out that he’s never been convicted of a crime,” Ethan said. Not that he didn’t agree with Simon. He had made a study of cults as part of his FBI training and he knew that groups like Metwater’s attracted the disaffected and disenfranchised. Some people in the group would have less respect for laws and authority. A certain smaller percentage would be criminally dangerous.

“My mother thinks I never swear,” Simon said. “That doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Do you plan on questioning Metwater?” Ethan asked.

“I thought we should drive over to his camp tonight and see if anyone is missing—someone who might be out boosting cars in the dark.”

“I like the way you think,” Ethan said. He hadn’t been to the camp in a few weeks. The Rangers were under orders not to harass Metwater and his followers, though each side had different definitions of what constituted harassment. Metwater felt the presence of any member of the Ranger Brigade anywhere near his camp infringed on his rights to live as he pleased. The Rangers contended Metwater and his followers were potential witnesses to any of the many crimes that occurred on public lands, by virtue of being the only people living in the area.

They took Simon’s FJ Cruiser, heading out of the national park and into the adjacent Curecanti National Recreation Area, toward the distinctive mesa where Metwater had made his camp. Forty minutes later Simon parked the cruiser between a rusting pickup and a doorless Jeep in the lot outside Metwater’s camp. He switched off the headlights, and inky blackness closed around them. The moon hadn’t yet risen, and though what looked like a million stars sparkled overhead, they didn’t give much light. The two men waited a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Ethan breathed in deeply the scents of sagebrush and wood smoke. “Ready?” Simon asked.

“Ready.”

They made their way up a narrow path toward the camp. Something skittered into the underbrush to Ethan’s left and he flinched, hand on the butt of the Glock on his hip, then forced himself to relax when he realized it was only an animal—maybe a fox or a raccoon. Voices drifted to them as they neared the camp. They emerged into a clearing surrounded by more than a dozen trailers, tents and cobbled-together shacks. The remains of a bonfire glowed in a stone-lined pit in the center of the area, and the shadows of adults and children flitted about the dwellings, voices rising at the officers’ approach.

Metwater lived in the large, modern motor home at one end of the camp. A pregnant young woman with long blond hair emerged from the white tent next to the motor home, a flashlight in one hand. Ethan recognized Andi Matheson, a former socialite and senator’s daughter, who had taken the name Asteria when she moved in with Metwater.

“Miss Matheson.”

She jerked her head up when Simon addressed her, and froze. “Is something wrong, Officers?” she asked.

“Just a routine patrol.” Simon stopped in front of her, his lanky frame towering over her.

“At this time of night?” she asked, her expression angry.

“People think they can get away with things with the darkness to hide them,” Simon said. “We like to catch them by surprise.”

“You won’t find anyone trying to get away with anything here.” She tried to move around him, but he took a step to the side, blocking her.

“So everyone is tucked tight in their beds?” Simon asked. “No one missing?”

“I don’t keep track of everyone.” She darted around him and walked past Ethan. The two men turned and followed her to the motor home. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked at them. “You can’t see the Prophet without an appointment,” she said.

“We know Mr. Metwater is always happy to cooperate with an investigation,” Simon said. Did Asteria note the sarcasm in his voice?

“What investigation?” she asked.

“Have you seen any strange cars around camp?” Ethan asked. “Newer models? Anybody in the group get a new ride recently?”

“No. What is this about?”

“Maybe Metwater will know.” Ethan had started to move past her when the door burst open and a woman stumbled out. She caught her foot on the top step and fell—right into Ethan’s arms.

He staggered under the impact, but managed to stay upright and hold on to the woman. She stared up at him, eyes wide and full of terror, dark, curly hair a tangle around her sharp-featured face. Blood trickled from one corner of her mouth.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Ethan spoke softly. “What happened?”

The terror in her eyes didn’t abate. “Help me,” she whispered, before slipping into unconsciousness.


Chapter Two (#u6340eaef-e5e7-554b-8f25-e033b5cc8ce4)

Michelle fought past the fog that surrounded her, struggling back into consciousness. She had to flee or something terrible would happen. She opened her eyes and stared into the face of a man she didn’t know. A new wave of fear revved her heart and she tried to pull away from him.

“Shh. It’s okay.” His voice was soft, his hands gentle, even as he continued to hold her arm. “Look at me,” he said. “My name is Ethan. Ethan Reynolds. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She stared into moss-green eyes so full of compassion and tenderness, tears burned at the back of her throat. She never cried. Crying was a sign of weakness and she couldn’t afford to be weak. Especially not now.

She pushed herself into a sitting position on the cot where she had been lying, though he kept one hand on her arm, steadying her. They were in the tent she shared with Asteria. Someone had lit the big oil lamp that hung from a post in the center of the room, a wavering circle of yellow light shining down on them. She had only a vague memory of rushing out of the motor home and falling... A fresh shudder of terror rocked her at the recollection.

“You must have hurt your head when you fell,” Asteria said. She sat on the cot beside Michelle and pressed a wet washrag to the side of her face.

Michelle winced as pain radiated across her cheek and jaw. “I don’t remember,” she lied.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the man, Ethan. He had released his hold on her and moved to sit at the end of the cot. He had short, dark hair and good shoulders that filled out his khaki uniform shirt in a way she would have admired if she had been less distracted. As it was, he studied her with an intensity that sent a tremor through her. His eyes reflected compassion, but danger, too. “You didn’t fall,” he said. “Someone hit you. Was it Daniel Metwater?”

She closed her eyes, but she couldn’t shut out the memory of Daniel Metwater’s handsome face twisted in rage, his fists slamming into her over and over, pummeling her toward the door. He had demanded to know why she was in his trailer and she had foolishly blurted the truth. “I want the locket,” she said. “Cass’s locket. I know you have it.”

After that she had been sure he would beat her to death. What if he came after her again? The thought made her stomach flip.

“The Prophet would never hurt anyone,” Asteria protested. She stood, the damp cloth she had been holding to Michelle’s face landing on the rug beside the cot with a soft plop. “He doesn’t believe in violence.”

“Tell anyone about this and you’re dead.” Metwater’s parting words came back to Michelle. “You’ll go out for a walk one day and no one will ever see you again. Mention that locket again and your son will die. You’ll never see him again.”

Part of her had been as naive as Asteria, believing Metwater would never hit her. She had been so wrong. “Hunter!” Suddenly frantic, she looked around for the child. “Where is Hunter?”

“He’s right here.” Michelle hadn’t realized that a fourth person was in the room, another in the circle of women who had been drawn to Metwater. Sarah stepped forward, the smiling little boy in her arms. He held out his chubby arms to Michelle and she gathered him close, burying her nose against his neck and inhaling that sweet baby smell.

“What’s your name?” Ethan asked. “Your real name?”

They were supposed to only use their Family names with the cops. It was one of Metwater’s rules. “You have a new identity now,” he had preached. “The police don’t need to know anything about your past.” She was done with obeying his rules.

“It’s Michelle,” she said. “Michelle Munson.”

Ethan stood and began pacing. He stopped in front of her, taller than she had thought before, radiating masculine power and suppressed anger—anger not at her but on her behalf. “Did Daniel Metwater hit you?” he asked again.

She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Hunter’s face. He was the only good thing that had ever happened to her and she would do anything to protect him. “I fell,” she said.

Ethan pressed his lips together, clearly not pleased with her answer. “If he hit you, I can arrest him and charge him with assault.”

And he would be back in camp before lunchtime tomorrow. Daniel Metwater had plenty of money to pay a top lawyer. He would come back, and he would make sure Michelle paid for her betrayal. She raised her eyes to meet Ethan’s, her gaze steady, giving away nothing. “The Prophet doesn’t believe in violence,” she said.

“What were you doing at the Prophet’s place, anyway?” Asteria asked. “You were supposed to be at the fire circle with the rest of us.”

Did Ethan hear the fear behind the question? Asteria worried she was losing her position as the Prophet’s favorite.

“I went to him for counseling,” Michelle said, though she knew the answer wouldn’t ease Asteria’s fears. Daniel Metwater sometimes “counseled” young women in his bed. He had never pretended to be faithful to Asteria, or to anyone else, but the poor girl apparently couldn’t stop hoping.

Ethan sat beside Michelle on the cot once more. Hunter turned his head to look at the man, the little boy’s eyes wide with curiosity. “How old is he?” Ethan asked. He offered his finger and, grinning, Hunter took hold of it.

His question caught her off guard. Was he really interested in her son, or only trying to lull her into trusting him? “Nine months,” she answered.

“Taking care of a child by yourself is a big responsibility,” Ethan said.

“I can handle it.” She pulled Hunter closer.

“Looks like you’re doing a great job.” He freed his finger from the little boy’s grasp, and his eyes met hers once more. “If you get hurt you won’t be able to look after him.”

She ignored the shudder that went up her spine at his words. She didn’t need this cop warning her about how to behave. She had been looking after herself for a long time. She jutted out her chin. “I’ll be fine.”

“Be careful, that’s all.” He took a business card from his shirt pocket and held it out to her. “If you ever need help, or just want to talk, call me. Anytime.”

She took the card and closed her fingers around it. People said things like that all the time, but they almost never meant it. But maybe Ethan Reynolds did.

He touched the cut on her lip, the lightest brush of his fingers, sending a shimmer of heat through her. “If you tell me who did this, I promise I won’t let him hurt you again,” he murmured.

“It was just clumsiness,” she said. Clumsy of her not to guess how Metwater would react to her taunts about the locket. “It won’t happen again.” She wouldn’t make the mistake of being alone with the Prophet again. He had lashed out so fiercely he had taken her by surprise, but next time she would be smarter. She would find a way to get the proof she needed that his brother had killed Cass. When she did, she would do everything in her power to make sure he never hit a woman again.

* * *

ETHAN EMERGED FROM the tent to find Simon waiting for him. “I was about ready to come in there after you,” Simon said. He glanced over Ethan’s shoulder. “What happened? How is Asteria and the other one—Stardust or whatever she calls herself?”

“Starfall. Michelle. Her real name is Michelle. She’s pretty bruised up, and obviously terrified, though she’s trying not to show it. Asteria is fine. Concerned for her friend, of course.”

“What happened to her?” Simon asked. “To Starfall?”

“She says she fell, but I think somebody beat her.” He shifted his gaze to Metwater’s motor home. No light shone from inside the dwelling.

“I didn’t get anything out of any of the people who were still standing around here,” Simon said. “They say they were at the bonfire and didn’t see or hear anything.”

“Let’s see what Metwater has to say.” Ethan started toward the motor home.

“I knocked, but no one answered,” Simon said, falling in step beside Ethan. “I figured I’d wait for backup before I broke down the door.”

“Maybe it won’t come to that.” Ethan pounded the door, a thunderous sound in the still darkness. “Open up!” he shouted. “Police!”

No answer.

Ethan glanced back at Simon, who had already drawn his weapon. “Metwater has a license for a handgun,” Simon said. “I’d just as soon not give him a chance to use it.”

Ethan nodded and drew his Glock. “On three,” he said. “One. Two. Three.” He hit the door hard, landing a fierce kick beside the lock, the metal crumpling under the blow. He hit it again with his shoulder and it burst inward. He immediately ducked around the jamb, waiting for an explosion of gunfire that didn’t come.

Simon’s eyes met his and he nodded. Ethan went in first, gun at the ready, Simon at his back. Simon hit the light switch, illuminating a sofa, recliner, table and lamp. Nothing out of order and no obvious place for anyone to hide. Adrenaline making him hyperalert, Ethan pounded down the hallway to another door. He didn’t bother knocking, but burst in, onto a scene of chaos.

A man cursed and a woman screamed—and kept on screaming. Ethan flicked the wall switch to the left of the door, and a single bedside lamp glowed, revealing a young woman standing in the corner, frantically trying to cover herself with a sheet she had dragged from the bed. Her mouth was open, and tears streamed down her face.

Daniel Metwater, naked and red-faced, sat up on the side of the bed. “Freeze!” Simon ordered, and fixed his weapon on him.

Metwater glared at them. “What is the meaning of this? The district attorney has ordered you people to leave me alone. I’ll have your jobs, and then I’ll sue you for everything you own. I—”

“Shut up,” Ethan said. “And keep your hands where we can see them.”

Metwater looked as if he might argue, but finally raised his hands to shoulder level. But he didn’t stop talking. “You can’t bust into a man’s home in the middle of the night for no reason,” he said.

“Shut up.” Simon gave the order this time.

Ethan addressed the woman. “Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked.

She closed her mouth and swallowed, then nodded.

“What’s your name?” Ethan asked.

“Sunshine.”

“What’s your full name?” he asked. “Your real name.”

“Sunshine is my real name. Sunshine Hartford.”

She looked barely eighteen, with strawberry-blond curls and freckles. “Ms. Hartford, how long have you been here with Mr. Metwater?” Ethan asked.

“N...not long.” She pulled the sheet up higher over her breasts.

“How long?” Ethan asked. “Give me your best estimate.”

“She’s been here almost an hour,” Metwater said.

“I told you to be quiet,” Simon said.

“How long have you been here?” Ethan asked again.

“I guess like he said.” She bit her bottom lip and glanced at Metwater. “About an hour?”

She was lying, but there wasn’t much Ethan could do about it now. Confident Simon had Metwater under control, he holstered his Glock and took out a small notebook. “Give me your contact information and then you can get dressed and wait for us outside,” he said.

He waited until the young woman had gathered her clothing and left the room, the sheet still wrapped around her. Then he turned to Metwater again. “Get up and put on some pants,” he ordered.

With a sneering look, Metwater scooped a pair of loose-fitting white trousers from the floor and tugged them on. He tied the cord at the waist. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“What happened between you and one of your followers—a woman called Starfall?” Ethan asked.

The expression in Metwater’s icy brown eyes never changed. “What about her? If she’s gotten into some kind of trouble, that’s her problem, not mine.”

“Not very sympathetic for a man who claims to be the head of a family,” Simon said.

“We witnessed her coming out of this motor home less than half an hour ago,” Ethan said. “She was bruised and bleeding. She fainted.”

“I don’t know why she would be here.” Metwater looked around, found a shirt and pulled it on, but didn’t button it.

“I didn’t ask if you knew why she was here,” Ethan said. “What happened while she was here? How was she hurt?”

“I have no idea.”

“Where were you when she was hurt?” Simon asked.

Metwater shrugged. “Since I don’t know when she was hurt, or even if she was hurt, I can’t answer that.”

“Where were you thirty minutes ago?” Ethan asked.

“I already told you—I was here with Miss Hartford.”

“So you admit you were here, in this motor home, at the time Starfall was hurt,” Ethan said. “Yet you don’t know how she was hurt?”

Metwater’s smile held no warmth. “I was otherwise occupied. With Miss Hartford.”

“Is Miss Hartford one of your followers?” Simon asked. “I don’t remember seeing her around before.”

“She’s an aspiring disciple,” Metwater said.

“We’re going to question Ms. Hartford,” Ethan said. “Are you sure she’ll confirm your story?”

“She will.”

Ethan fought the urge to knock the smug look off Metwater’s face. “Did you have an argument with Starfall?” he asked.

“No.” His smile faded. “Does she say that we did?”

“She’s too upset to question right now,” Ethan said. He wanted to keep Metwater off guard as much as possible.

“She’ll confirm we didn’t argue,” Metwater said. “Unless she lies. She sometimes has a problem with honesty. It’s something we’re working on.”

“I’ll find out the truth,” Ethan said. “And I’ll make sure the person who hurt Starfall is charged and prosecuted.”

“Knock yourself out, Officer.” Metwater stood. “But now it’s time for you to leave. Expect to hear from my lawyers.”

Ethan took a step toward Metwater. If this so-called Prophet thought Ethan was going to be intimidated by empty threats, he was in for a rude awakening.

“Come on.” Simon’s voice snapped Ethan out of his rage. “We’re wasting our time here.”

Ethan turned and led the way out of the motor home. “I wanted to deck him, too,” Simon said when they were outside. “But it wouldn’t be worth the hassle the suits would put you through later.”

Ethan nodded and took a deep, calming breath. “We should talk to Ms. Hartford,” he said.

“She’s long gone.” Simon looked around at the empty campground. The only light was from the few dying embers of the bonfire, and a thin glow of gold showing at the entrance to Asteria and Starfall’s tent. “We’ll track her down tomorrow.”

“I want to check on Starfall one more time,” Ethan said.

Asteria met them at the door of the tent. “She’s sleeping,” she said, in answer to Ethan’s unvoiced question. “She was pretty shaken up, but I think she’ll be okay. She’s pretty tough.”

“Did she tell you anything about what happened?” Ethan asked.

Asteria tucked her hair behind one ear. Deep shadows hollowed her eyes and she looked exhausted. “She wouldn’t say anything. She got angry when I asked her about it.”

“Has Daniel Metwater ever hit any of the women in camp before?” Ethan asked.

Asteria gaped at them, wide-eyed. “No! He would never do that! It isn’t possible.” She smoothed back her hair. “I should go to him now. He’ll be very upset about your accusations, and he’s expecting me. I was on my way to him when all this happened.” She waved a hand toward the cot where Starfall slept.

She started to move past them, but Simon put out a hand to stop her. “What do you mean, Metwater is expecting you?” he asked.

Defiance shone behind the fatigue. “I was going to spend the night with him. I often do.”

“If he was expecting you, what was Sunshine Hartford doing there?” Simon asked.

“Sunshine? Do you mean that girl who’s been hanging around here?” Asteria furrowed her brow. “I thought I saw her at the fire circle tonight, but she wasn’t with the Prophet.”

“She was with him a few minutes ago,” Ethan said.

“She was with him in his bed,” Simon added.

Asteria stared at him. “What?”

“He told us he and Ms. Hartford had been together for the last hour,” Simon said.

“That can’t be right,” she said.

“Why can’t it be right?” Ethan asked.

“Because...” She bit her lower lip, then shook her head. “Just, because.” She looked back toward the cot. Starfall lay on her side, the blanket pulled up past her ears. Only the tumble of her brown curls showed against the white of the pillow.

Simon touched Asteria’s elbow, turning her attention back to him. “Why can’t it be right?” he asked.

“He was supposed to be alone!” The words burst from her, and her eyes shone wetly. “Not with Starfall or Sunshine or anyone else. He asked me to come to him.”

“Maybe he had something else in mind for tonight,” Simon said.

She shook her head. “No. He isn’t like that. You don’t know him at all or you wouldn’t say something like that.”

“Maybe you don’t know him that well, either,” Simon said.

She stepped back into the tent. “Go away and leave us alone,” she said. “You’re not welcome here.”

“We’ll leave for now,” Simon said. “But think about what’s happened tonight. If Daniel Metwater would lie to you about being alone tonight, what else has he lied to you about?”

Ethan gave her a hard look. “And what are you going to do to stop the lying?”


Chapter Three (#u6340eaef-e5e7-554b-8f25-e033b5cc8ce4)

Michelle was still on Ethan’s mind the next morning as he made his way down the quiet residential street on Montrose’s south side. Staying emotionally distant from victims was a necessary part of the job—let yourself get too wound up about the things people did to each other and you’d never sleep at night. But Michelle got to him. She looked so wounded and fragile, yet he sensed real strength in her.

He turned onto his parents’ street and nodded to a jogger on the sidewalk. The neighbor’s sprinkler sent a shimmer of water over the perfectly trimmed yard, and the aroma of wet grass and pavement drifted in through his partially open window. He pulled into the driveway, wondering how long it would be before he stopped expecting to see his father waiting at the front door. Dad had been gone six months now, but every time Ethan came to the house he experienced that jolt of expectation followed by disappointment.

His mother came to the front door and held open the screen, waiting for him. She wore pale blue scrubs and white clogs, ready for her nursing shift at Montrose Hospital. She looked so small to him—smaller than she had been when he was a boy, and smaller than when his dad had been alive. She smiled as he approached and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “This is a nice surprise,” she said. “What brings you out so early?”

“I just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine. I went shopping yesterday and they had some nice melon. Would you like some?”

“That’s okay, Mom. I already had breakfast.” He looked back at the neighbor’s sprinkler. “I’ll try to come over this afternoon and mow the lawn,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I can hire someone. Mrs. Douglas across the street has someone. I can ask her who she uses.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mom. I’ll take care of it.” His dad had kept the place immaculate when he was alive—grass cut every week, hedges trimmed, flowers mulched. Dad paid all the bills and took care of the cars and even drove Mom shopping once a week. Now she was having to do all those things herself. Ethan wondered if it was too much for her.

“First chance I get, I’ll change the oil in your car,” he said as he followed her into the house. “It’s probably past time for that.”

“I can take it to one of those quick oil change places,” she said. “You have enough to do without worrying about me.”

But Ethan did worry. One of the reasons he had jumped at the chance to join the Ranger Brigade was that the new position would allow him to live close to his mom—to look after her.

“Do you have time for coffee?” she asked as she led the way to the kitchen. “I was just going to pour myself a cup.”

“Coffee would be nice.” He sat at the kitchen table—his usual spot, to the left of the chair where his father had always sat. From this position, he had a good view of the backyard, and the patio he and his dad had put in during Ethan’s senior year of high school—a patio currently occupied by a trio of tabby cats, busy devouring a dish of crumpets.

“Still feeding the neighborhood strays, I see,” he said.

“They’re not strays.” His mother slid a blue mug of coffee in front of him, then took her seat in her usual place across from Ethan. “They’re feral cats. They’ve never had a home, but grew up in the wild.”

One cat finished and retreated to a fence post to groom itself in the sun. “You planning on adopting them?” Ethan asked. A pet might be good for her, keep her company.

“That’s not how it works with ferals,” she said. “You can’t really tame them. They’ll never give up their independence. The best I can do is feed them and provide a sheltered spot for them to get out of the weather.” She indicated a pile of blankets in a corner of the covered patio.

“Sounds like a good way to end up with a whole zoo of wild cats,” Ethan said.

“Oh, no. They’ve all been neutered. See how their ears are notched? That tells everyone they were fixed.”

The cat on the post did indeed have a notch cut out of its right ear. “Maybe you should think about adopting a domestic cat, then,” he said. “Wouldn’t you enjoy the company?”

“I enjoy feeding the ferals and having them around, without the commitment to a full-time cat,” she said.

“Just be careful, Mom,” he said. “Don’t let one of them bite you or anything.”

“You sound just like your father.”

Though she was smiling, the remark pained him. The reaction must have shown on his face, because she quickly changed the subject. “How is your new job going?” she asked. “Are you working on anything interesting?”

“We’re trying to track down some car thieves we think might be operating on public land.” He sipped the coffee. “We were out at Daniel Metwater’s camp last night, seeing if they knew anything.”

“He’s that good-looking preacher fellow, isn’t he?” His mom shook a packet of sweetener into her coffee and stirred. “I’ve read things about him in the paper—all those young people camping out with him. Just like the hippies back when I was that age.” She laughed. “One summer your father decided to grow his hair long and your grandmother was worried to death that he was going to become one of those flower children.”

“Dad had long hair?” Ethan couldn’t picture it. For most of his life, his dad hadn’t had much hair at all.

“Oh, it was just one summer,” she said. “Then he got a job in the oil fields and he had to cut it. I quite liked it, though. He had prettier hair than I did.” She laughed again. “What are they like, the followers of that Prophet?”

“Mostly young,” he said. “Some men, but a lot of women and children. Most of them are probably harmless, but he’s attracted his share of people who are running from something—including the law.”

“I can’t think the children have much of a life, camping in the woods like that,” she said.

“We try to monitor them, make sure there’s no abuse or neglect.” He frowned, remembering the bruises on Michelle’s face.

“What is it, dear?” his mother asked. “You look upset.”

“Last night when we were out there, we ran into a woman,” he said. “Or rather, she ran into us. She’d been beaten—pretty badly. But she insisted she had fallen and wouldn’t tell us who had hit her.”

“Oh, no.” His mom made a tsking noise. “We get women like that in the emergency room sometimes. They’re too afraid to tell the truth, I think.”

“This woman was afraid.” He pushed his half-empty cup aside. “I’m going to go out there this morning and talk to her again. Maybe I can persuade her to file charges.”

“I hope you can help her,” his mom said. “No woman should be treated that way. Your father would have died before he raised his hand against me.”

“Yeah, Dad was a great guy.” He pushed his chair back. “I’d better get going. I’ll be over later to take care of the lawn.”

His mom walked with him to the door. “Thanks, sweetie.” She kissed his cheek again. “And don’t worry about me. That’s my job.”

It was his job, too, now that his dad wasn’t around. Trying to ignore the heaviness in his chest, he returned to his cruiser. He couldn’t take away his mom’s or his own grief, but he could do whatever he could to make her life easier. She wasn’t like Michelle—alone with no one to defend her.

* * *

MICHELLE WOKE TO Hunter’s crying—a reassuring sound, since she had been having a dream in which he was lost and she couldn’t find him. She sat up on the side of her cot, groaning as pain radiated through her body, and the memory of last night returned, like a fresh blow. She put a hand to the tender, swollen flesh around her mouth, and carefully stood, then shuffled toward the crib.

The baby was soaking wet, so she changed him, then sat on the side of the cot once more to nurse him. She was weaning him, but right now she needed this closeness, giving him something only she could provide. Asteria was nowhere in sight—not surprising, since she spent most of her nights lately with Daniel Metwater. Michelle held her son closely and replayed the events of last night in her head.

She had been stupid to think Metwater wouldn’t lash out at her. Stupid to believe he would hand over the locket in exchange for her promise of silence. Not that she intended to keep that promise, but she was good at conning people. She had been doing it most of her life.

But Metwater was a con, too. He knew how the game was played. And now that he knew she was on to him, she would have to be careful. She would have to make sure Hunter stayed safe.

She brushed the hair from the baby’s forehead and he smiled up at her. Her heart clenched. Until she had had Hunter, she had had nothing—no one.

She slipped a hand into her pocket and felt the business card the Ranger had given her. Ethan. A high-class-sounding name. Someone named Ethan probably wouldn’t drop out of school or end up in jail for boosting cars or dealing drugs, the way the boys from her neighborhood did. Ethan went to college. He got a job upholding the law instead of breaking it.

Ethan didn’t look twice at Michelle Munson from the wrong side of town. But Ethan Reynolds had looked at her. She had stared into his eyes and felt that he was seeing her—not the cool, smart-talking tough girl role she had assumed before her age reached double digits, but the real her—the woman who had been hurt, who was fearful of a future she couldn’t control. Most of the time she forgot that woman even existed anymore, but somehow this cop had seen it.

The knowledge made her feel vulnerable—a sensation she didn’t like. She was the only person she could rely on to look after herself and her son. That meant she couldn’t let anyone make her feel helpless. Daniel Metwater controlled people by making them believe they weren’t capable of making the right choices for their lives. They needed him to make those choices for them—to control their money and tell them when to eat and what to think. When she had first come here, she was amazed at how many people were willing to give up everything to someone who promised to make them feel good.

The flap of the tent pushed open and Asteria ducked inside. She carried a cup of coffee and handed it to Michelle. “I thought you might need this,” she said.

“Yes. You’re a saint.” Michelle took the cup and drained a third of it in one long swallow. At least the Prophet hadn’t made them give up coffee, the way he had talked them into giving up meat two days a week and cell phones and movies, and she had lost track of how much else. If she hadn’t promised herself she would do whatever she had to in order to prove that Cass was murdered, she would have left this place a long time ago.

“How are you feeling?” Asteria sat on the cot beside her.

“A little sore.” She watched Asteria out of the corner of her eye as she spoke. She had to be careful here. She couldn’t afford to upset Metwater’s biggest fan. “That was some fall.”

“What were you doing at the Prophet’s trailer?” Asteria asked. “And don’t give me that lie about counseling.”

“Why don’t you believe I went to him for counseling?” Michelle asked.

“Because you’re not the counseling type. You don’t confide in people.”

No, she didn’t. And even if she did, she wouldn’t reveal anything personal to a man like Metwater. She didn’t want him to know so much as her shoe size, in case he could find a way to use it against her. “I went there to complain,” she said. “The men in this camp are lazy bums who don’t do their share of the work. He needs to put some of them on kitchen duty, instead of making us look after the children and prepare all the meals while they sit around and wait to be fed.” She had no trouble getting into this rant, since it was one she had voiced before. The other women agreed with her, but none of them were willing to do anything about it.

Most of the tension went out of Asteria’s shoulders. “You shouldn’t bother him with something like that,” she said. “Not late at night.”

“It wasn’t that late.” She shifted Hunter to her other arm and took another drink of coffee. “Anyway, he wasn’t there.”

“If he wasn’t there, why did you go inside?”

“The door was unlocked. I only stepped into the living room and called for him. I mean, it wasn’t like I was going to go into his bedroom or anything.” She held her breath, hoping Asteria would believe her.

“So you didn’t see him at all?”

“No. I waited a few seconds, then turned and left. I must have caught my foot on the step on my way out.” The cop, Ethan, hadn’t believed that lame story for even a minute, but Asteria was buying it the way the former socialite would once have snagged a coveted designer gown in her size.

“Did you see anyone else?” Asteria asked. “Either in the motor home or on your way there?”

Someone else? That was an interesting development. “Who?” she asked.

“Did you see Sunshine?”

“Sunshine?” Starfall tried and failed to match a face to that name.

“The girl who’s been hanging around lately.”

Ah! The girl who had been shamelessly flirting with Metwater. Starfall saw where this was going now. “No, I didn’t see her,” she said. She hadn’t seen anyone but Metwater and his fist.

“I knew those Rangers were lying,” Asteria said. “They told me that when they questioned the Prophet about what had happened to you, he told them he was with Sunshine. They were just trying to upset me so that I would tell lies about the Prophet.”

If you’re sleeping with a guy, it’s probably okay to call him by his first name, Michelle thought, but she kept quiet. Asteria—the former Andi Matheson—had bought Metwater’s line about being a holy seer one hundred percent. She was his favorite follower—and also his wealthiest—and she couldn’t even see the connection between his favoritism and her money. “What kind of lies did they want you to tell?” she asked.

“That he hit you. Which is ridiculous, because you know how much he hates violence.”

Right. “I’ve heard him say several times that he hates violence,” she agreed. Though he had had no trouble trying to beat her brains in last night. She still wasn’t sure how she had managed to break free and run for the door. If the two Rangers hadn’t been standing right outside, would he have pursued her and maybe even killed her?

She set down her coffee mug, suddenly sick to her stomach. “I need to take a shower,” she said. Some of the men had built a shower shack at the other end of camp. Water came from a plastic barrel that sat on top of the shack. The sun heated the water, and the plastic showerhead had an on-off switch that allowed the person showering to control the flow. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it wasn’t bad.

“Do you want me to watch Hunter while you do that?” Asteria asked.

“That’s okay. I’ll take him in with me.” Hunter liked to sit on the floor and play in the puddles that collected around her feet. Until she was sure she was safe, she wasn’t going to let the baby out of her sight.

She finished the coffee, then collected a towel, soap and shampoo, and picked up Hunter. “Let’s go take a shower, buddy,” she said, bouncing him on her hip. He giggled, dimples forming on either side of his mouth. Smiling in return, she headed toward the shower shack.

She had just turned onto the path to the shower when Daniel Metwater stepped out in front of her. She stumbled to a halt, heart racing, searching for a way out. But the woods grew close to the path on either side and Metwater blocked the way forward. She could turn and run, but he might be able to catch her.

She stood, frozen, as he approached and put a hand on her shoulder. “I heard you had a bad fall,” he said, gaze focused on her bruises. “Are you all right?”

The absurdity of his words, and the false concern in his voice, shocked her out of her fear. She stumbled back, wrenching away from him. “No, I am not all right.” She checked to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them. “And I didn’t fall. You and I both know it.”

“As long as no one else knows.” He wrapped his hand around Hunter’s arm. Now if she tried to pull away, the baby would be hurt. “I meant what I told you,” he said. “If you want Hunter to stay safe, you won’t say a word about this—or about that locket—to anyone.”

She wanted to spit in his face—to tell him that she was going to expose his brother as a murderer and him as a fraud. But she couldn’t do that. She had to protect her son, and find a way to keep them both safe until she could get the proof she needed. “I know how to keep my mouth shut,” she said. “I haven’t told anyone about what I know, and I’ve been here for months.”

“Make sure you don’t.”

She left, wanting to run but forcing herself to walk. She could feel his gaze boring into her back all the way to the shower shack, and when she reached the shack and glanced back, he was still watching, the hatred in his expression making her tremble all the way to her toes.

* * *

SUNSHINE HARTFORD VIBRATED like a terrified rabbit. Her left leg bounced and her upper lip twitched as she stared, wide-eyed, at the trio of officers gathered around her at Ranger Brigade Headquarters. Ethan and Agent Carmen Redhorse had picked her up at her apartment in Montrose and brought her in for questioning, thinking if they could rattle her a little she would be more likely to confess the truth.

But Ethan hadn’t intended to frighten her so badly she couldn’t speak. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Miss Hartford,” he tried to reassure her. “You haven’t done anything wrong. We only want your help in drawing a clear picture of what happened last night at Daniel Metwater’s motor home.”

“A woman was injured.” Carmen leaned toward the young woman, her voice soft but firm. “You can help us find who hurt her.”

“I... I was with the Prophet,” she stammered. “You saw me there.”

“How long had you been with him?” Ethan asked.

“He told you. We had been there an hour.”

“Yes, that’s what he told us, but that can’t be right, can it?” Ethan tried to keep his tone conversational, nonaccusatory. “Was the bonfire even over that long?”

She squirmed like a kid who had to go to the bathroom. “I didn’t have a watch with me.”

“Did you hear or see anyone else in the motor home while you were there?” Ethan asked. “Maybe someone in another room?”

She shook her head. “No. When you’re with the Prophet, it’s as if no one else is around.”

Out of view of Sunshine, Carmen rolled her eyes. “Did he say anything to you about anyone else?” Ethan asked. “Did he mention anyone by name?”

“He said if I saw Asteria, I had to pretend I hadn’t been with him,” she said.

“And you were okay with that?” Carmen asked. “Lying to another woman?”

“It wouldn’t be lying, exactly,” Sunshine said. “And I would be obeying the Prophet. You can’t be a good disciple if you aren’t obedient.”

A classic manipulator’s line, Ethan thought.

“Did you know that lying to the police is against the law?” Ethan asked.

“The Prophet answers to the highest law. I’m sure he wouldn’t ask me to do anything harmful.”

“So you admit you’re lying,” Ethan said.

Her expression clouded. “I haven’t seen or spoken to Asteria,” she said. “So I haven’t had to lie about anything.”

“What about how much time you spent with Metwater?” Carmen asked. “Are you lying about that?”

She wrinkled her nose, and her voice took on a strident edge. “I told you—I don’t wear a watch. I wasn’t keeping track of the time. He said it was an hour, so it must be an hour.”

“All right,” Ethan said. “Take me through the sequence of events last night. When did you arrive at camp?”

“The fire circle is always at dusk, so I got to the camp a little before—about eight thirty.”

“What next?”

“I walked into camp. The bonfire was going and a lot of Family members were already there. I found some women I knew and stood with them. We waited about fifteen minutes and then the Prophet came out.” A smile transformed her from sulky teen to beautiful woman. “He was wearing a loincloth and had painted his face. He was beautiful.”

“And he does what at these fire circles?” Every cult had its rituals. The researcher in Ethan was curious about Metwater’s rituals.

“First, he gave us a message about how we should live. He talked about sharing—about how the rest of the world lives in an economy based on hoarding, but in the Family, everyone shares, and that makes everyone better off, instead of only a few people.”

Carmen made a snorting noise. Sunshine gave her a sharp look. “Go on,” Carmen said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“After the message, the drummers started up, and the Prophet led us in a chant. Then he began to dance. It was mesmerizing.”

“What do the rest of you do while he dances?” Ethan asked.

“We chant. And sometimes the Prophet asks other people to dance with him.” Her cheeks glowed pink. “Last night he asked me to dance with him. I was so excited I couldn’t even feel my feet touch the ground.”

“How long did you dance?” Ethan asked.

“Not long. We went around the fire and when we reached my place in the circle, the Prophet kissed my cheek. Everyone was watching and I felt so special.” Her eyes shone with the memory. Metwater certainly had her under his spell.

“What happened next?” Ethan prompted.

“The chanting and dancing went on for a little while longer. Then the drums quieted and the Prophet gave us his blessing. Then everyone left the fire circle and went to bed.”

“Where did you go?” Carmen asked. “Did you go with the Prophet?”

“Not right away. I stood around talking with some of the other women—Sarah and Moonglow—and a guy named Alex.”

“What did you talk about?” Ethan asked.

“Nothing in particular. I wanted to know more about what it was like to live in the Family. I want to join, but the Prophet says they aren’t taking any new members right now. Apparently, they had trouble with some cops pretending to be interested in joining and using that to spy on the group. Can you believe that?”

Ethan’s eyes met Carmen’s and he suppressed a smile. She had lived with Metwater and his followers for a couple of weeks last month, by pretending to be a prospective member. Her undercover work hadn’t revealed any evidence of criminal activity in the group, but it had led to contact with a Fish and Game officer tracking smugglers. Carmen had helped with the case and now she and the Fish and Game cop were engaged.

“So you didn’t go to Metwater’s motor home with him right away?” he asked Sunshine.

“No. I stood around and talked for a while. I was thinking I should probably go back to my car when the Prophet walked over and asked me to come back to his motor home with him.” She blushed again. “Just like that, he singled me out. It was amazing.”

“Did you see anyone or talk to anyone on your way to the motor home?” Ethan asked.

“No. He took my hand and practically dragged me back there with him.”

“What happened when you got inside the motor home?” Ethan asked. “What did you see?”

“Nothing, really. He had all the lights turned off. He took me to his bedroom and told me to undress. He started undressing, too. We got under the covers and started making out. And then you interrupted.”

“That doesn’t sound like it would take an hour to me,” Ethan said.

“I don’t see why the time matters so much,” Sunshine said. “The important thing is that we were together and I didn’t see anybody else—certainly not a hurt woman. I mean, I’m sorry she was hurt, but the Prophet wouldn’t do anything like that. He loves women.”

“He certainly loves to use them,” Carmen said.

Sunshine stood and brushed off her skirt. “Can I go now?” she asked.

“Yes, you can go,” Ethan said. “I’ll take you back home.” He dug in his pocket for his car keys but stopped when the front door of Ranger Headquarters burst open.

Starfall staggered inside, her face pale as death except for the bruising along her jaw and around her mouth. She stared at Ethan with haunted eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was a ragged gasp. “Hunter...my baby...he’s gone! You have to help me get him back!”


Chapter Four (#u6340eaef-e5e7-554b-8f25-e033b5cc8ce4)

Panic clawed at Michelle’s throat and clouded her vision. Every breath burned and her pulse pounded in her head. My baby’s gone. My baby’s gone. My baby’s gone!

A steadying hand gripped her arm and a man’s firm but gentle voice cut through the clamor of her thoughts. “Take a deep breath. I’m going to help you. Sit down over here and tell me everything that happened.”

Ethan Reynolds led her to a chair and someone brought her a cup of water. She drank it and struggled to control her breathing. “My little boy, Hunter, is missing,” she said. “Daniel Metwater took him, I know he did. He threatened to hurt him and now he’s done it.” She choked back a sob.

Ethan sat in a chair across from her, his knees almost touching hers, his hand firm on her shoulder. “Michelle, look at me,” he said.

She looked into brown eyes so full of concern and compassion that a fresh flood of tears filled her eyes. “I know it’s hard, but you have to be strong,” he said. “The more information you can tell us, the more we’ll have to use to find your baby. And we will do everything in our power to find him.”

He was right. She had to be strong. And she was strong. She wouldn’t have made it this long if she wasn’t. She took a deep breath and began. “I was in the shower,” she said. “We have this shower shack, with a plastic barrel of water on the roof. The sun warms the water and there’s a showerhead with a switch you can turn on and off. I took Hunter into the stall with me. He likes to play in the water and I wanted to keep an eye on him.” She had only turned away for a second...

“What happened then?” Ethan prompted, once more pulling her back from that awful abyss of panic.

“I had just turned on the water and was wetting my hair when someone dumped a bucket of paint over the side of the stall. The top is mostly open and I know there was some paint sitting around—the plan was to paint the shack, but no one had gotten around to it yet.” She was rambling, filling in too many details, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Who dumped the paint—do you know?” A woman’s voice this time. Michelle turned her head and recognized Carmen Redhorse—the cop who had lived with them for a while. She and Michelle hadn’t exactly gotten along—Michelle had tried to scam the cop Carmen was now engaged to.

“I don’t know who threw the paint,” she said. “I couldn’t see anything. That was the problem. I had paint all over me—in my hair and in my eyes. I screamed and I was trying to wash it all out. I was worried about it drying that way, in my hair and my eyelashes. I turned the water on full blast and grabbed the shampoo. I couldn’t see or hear anything. By the time I got it all rinsed out, Hunter was gone. Someone must have reached in and grabbed him while I was blinded. Either Metwater or someone he ordered to take Hunter.”

“Why do you think it was Metwater?” Ethan asked.

“Because he said he would hurt Hunter if I didn’t keep quiet about what happened last night, and about what I knew about his brother.”

“So he is the one who hurt you last night?” Ethan asked.

“Yes. But I couldn’t tell you about it. I couldn’t tell anyone. I kept quiet, the way he said.” But it hadn’t made any difference, apparently.

“What was that about his brother?” Ethan asked.

She sighed. How could she make this cop understand, when the story was so convoluted? But she had to try. “My sister, my foster sister, Cass, dated Daniel Metwater’s twin brother, David. She thought she was in love with him, but she was worried. She had found out something about him—something bad. She wouldn’t tell me what it was, but she told me she was going to confront him. She thought this bad thing couldn’t possibly be true, that he would prove it wasn’t true and they could go on. Instead, she died that night of an apparent heroin overdose. But Cass didn’t use drugs. I know she didn’t. He killed her so she wouldn’t reveal the bad thing she had found out about him. I’m sure of it.”

“That’s terrible,” Carmen said. “But what does it have to do with Daniel Metwater?”

“Cass had a locket—gold, with a big diamond. She inherited it from her grandmother. She was wearing it the night she disappeared, but when police found her body, the locket was missing. A few days ago Asteria told me Daniel had showed her a gold locket and promised to give it to her baby. It sounded like Cass’s locket. If I could get hold of that, it would help me prove that there was a connection between Cass and the Metwaters. It might be enough to get the police to dig deeper into her death. More than anything, I want to clear her name and prove David Metwater was a murderer. It’s why I joined up with the Family in the first place.”

“So you went to Metwater’s motor home last night to get the locket,” Ethan said.

“Yes. Only he came back earlier than I expected and he caught me looking for it. He was furious. He started hitting me and telling me he was going to hurt Hunter, too. I thought he was going to beat me to death. Somehow I broke free and ran out of the trailer—that’s when you found me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this last night?” Ethan asked. She heard the frustration in his voice—she couldn’t blame him.

“I was afraid of him,” she said. “The way he beat on me, I’m sure he was ready to kill me. And I had to protect Hunter.”

“Did Daniel Metwater specifically threaten to take Hunter?” Carmen asked.

“He said he would hurt him. He said it last night, and again this morning. He stopped me on the way to the showers and he said if I wanted Hunter to stay safe, I needed to keep my mouth shut. I told him I would, but I guess he didn’t believe me.”

“What did you do when you discovered Hunter was missing?” Ethan asked.

“I pulled on my clothes and ran out of the shower, calling for him. I thought maybe he wandered off. I stopped everyone I met and asked if they had seen him, but no one had. Then I went to Metwater’s motor home and pounded on the door. I screamed that I wanted my baby. He said he didn’t know anything about my baby and I needed to stop being so hysterical.” She could have killed Metwater in that moment. She had tried to push past him, to search for Hunter, but he had two of his bodyguards hold her back. “I accused him of taking Hunter and he told everyone I had lost my mind. After that no one would help me, so I came here.” She slumped forward, head in her hands. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“We’ll help you.” Ethan took one hand and gently pulled it away from her face. “We’ll put out an Amber Alert for Hunter. Everyone will be looking for him. We’ll search the camp and we’ll question Metwater. We’ll find your son.”

She nodded. If they acted quickly, maybe Metwater wouldn’t have had time to take Hunter away somewhere.

“All those articles you had collected about David and Daniel Metwater,” Carmen said. “The ones I found in your trunk—they were because of your sister?”

Michelle stared at the other woman for a moment, before she remembered that Carmen had, indeed, searched her trunk—and she had discovered the item Michelle had been using to blackmail the Fish and Game officer Carmen was now engaged to. “I didn’t know you had seen the articles,” she said.

“I didn’t read them all,” Carmen said. “But I looked through them enough to see they were all about Daniel and David Metwater. I thought maybe you were trying to blackmail him, too.”

“I wish,” Michelle said. “I saved every article I could find, hoping it would give me some clue as to what really happened to Cass that night. The local police wouldn’t believe she had been murdered, so they weren’t doing anything about it. It was up to me.”

“So you decided to join Daniel Metwater’s family,” Ethan said.

“Yes. I called myself Starfall because I didn’t want to risk Metwater recognizing the name. Cass and I weren’t related by blood—her family took me in as their foster child when I was a teenager, but Cass might have mentioned me, so I thought it was safer to assume a fake name. A lot of the people who join his family do that. Asteria did it. She used to be some wealthy socialite.”

“Do you mind if I call you Michelle?” Ethan asked. “At least when Metwater isn’t around?”

She nodded. “I’d like that. Since he took my baby, I don’t want to have anything to do with him.” She sat up straighter. “And I don’t care if he knows who I really am now. I’m not going to let him get away with this.”

“Neither are we.” Ethan’s expression was grim. “I promise you—neither are we.”

* * *

HALF AN HOUR later Ethan glanced over at the woman who sat in the passenger seat of his FJ Cruiser. Starfall—Michelle—was still pale, the bruises around her mouth from where Metwater had hit her last night a painful-looking purple. “You hanging in there?” he asked.

She nodded and turned toward him. “What do you think he’s done with Hunter?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was all he had to give her. “Would Hunter have gone with him willingly, do you think?”

“Probably. He’s a friendly boy, and he’s never had any reason to be afraid of anyone or anything. I made sure of that.”

“What about his father?”

She stiffened. “What about him?”

“Is it possible he would take the boy? That happens sometimes with custody disputes.”

“No.” She shook her head, curls bouncing. “He’s been out of the picture for months now. He was a mistake.”

“Still, he might decide he wants his son.” Ethan couldn’t imagine having a child who wasn’t a part of his life. “What’s his name? We can check his whereabouts.”

“It’s Greg Warbush. The last I heard he was in Seattle. But you’re wasting your time looking for him. He wouldn’t take Hunter. Greg was never even interested in him. He even said he wasn’t sure Hunter was his.” She shrugged. “Maybe he was right.”

Ethan tried not to let his feelings show on his face, but his expression must have betrayed something, because she said, “I was in a bad place after Cass died. She was the only family I really had—the only person I was close to. I went off the deep end, drinking and sleeping around. I snapped out of it when I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t want my kid growing up the way I had—unwanted. I straightened up and tried to make it work with Greg, but I guess when you start out that way, the relationship is doomed.”

The way she said that word—unwanted—as if it was just another fact in her life—sent a chill through him. Ethan’s parents had always been there for him. He couldn’t imagine living a life where the only person you cared about—the only person you thought cared about you—was a foster sibling.

“Is there anyone else who might want to harm you or your son?” he asked. “Someone with a grudge against you? Someone who is angry with you, for whatever reason?”

She sighed and tilted her head back to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m sure you’ve talked to Officer Redhorse. If you have, you know I’m not the most popular person in camp. I’m not the kind of person who gets close to other people, and I’ve done things to make enemies.”

“What kind of things?”

“I find out people’s secrets and use that to get them to do what I want.” Her eyes flashed, defiant.

“You mean blackmail?”

“Nobody in camp has any money. And most people don’t have big secrets, either. But if I need a guy to fix my car and he says no, I’ll snoop around until I catch him doing something like siphoning gas out of the Prophet’s ride and I’ll threaten to tell unless he make the repairs I need. I’m not saying I’m proud of it, but I do what I have to do to survive.”

Part of him could admire her resourcefulness, even if he didn’t approve of her methods. “By your silence, I can tell you don’t approve,” she said. “But don’t worry. I promise I won’t try to scam you.”

“I think I’m smart enough to spot a scam,” he said.

“Did I mention that I’m very, very good?”

Her teasing tone gave him hope—she was holding it together under horrendous circumstances. That told him more about her strength than any show of force. “Thanks for warning me,” he said.

* * *

ONLY A COUPLE of vehicles sat in the parking area outside Metwater’s camp. Ethan parked his vehicle, and two other Ranger units slid in beside him. Task force members Carmen Redhorse, Simon Woolridge, Marco Cruz and Michael Dance fell in behind Ethan as Michelle led the way up the trail through the woods. She was practically running as she neared the compound. They emerged into the clearing and the first thing that struck him was the silence. No children played, no one lounged in front of the camps, no groups stood around talking. “Where is everyone?” Michelle asked, looking around.

“We’ll spread out and check things out,” Marco said.

“I’ll see if Metwater is home,” Ethan said. He headed for the motor home and rapped on the door. It opened quickly. Asteria scowled at him. “If you’re looking for the Prophet, he’s not here,” she said. “He’s with the others, searching for Hunter.” She frowned at Michelle. “Why did you bring the cops here? Why aren’t you searching for your boy?”

Michelle shoved past Asteria, into the motor home. “Was Hunter here?” she asked. “Did you see him?”

Asteria looked confused. “What do you mean? Of course he wasn’t here.”

“Daniel Metwater threatened to hurt him,” Michelle said. “He was near the shower shack before I went in. He must have seen his chance and snatched my baby to frighten me.”

Asteria took a step back until she was pressed against the wall. “You need to leave,” she said. “The Prophet told us you were crazy and I didn’t want to believe him, but I see it’s true.”

Ethan put his hand on Michelle’s shoulder—she practically vibrated with anger, and he was sure if he hadn’t been there to hold her back she would have launched herself at Asteria. “Where is Metwater now?” he asked.

Asteria didn’t take her eyes off Michelle as she answered, “He and the others are searching the woods just outside camp past the shower shack. We thought Hunter might have wandered into there—he’s barely crawling, so he couldn’t have gone far.”

“Let’s go.” Ethan led Michelle toward the door. “Maybe they’ve found something.”

That bit of hope got her moving. But when they were outside, she glanced over her shoulder, back toward the motor home. “She would lie for him,” she said. “But I can’t believe she would do anything to harm Hunter. She loved him.”

“Maybe she really doesn’t know anything.” He put a hand at her back. “Show me this shower shack.”

She led him across the clearing, past a cluster of tents, to another narrow path that cut through thick underbrush. Halfway along, she stopped. “Metwater threatened me here,” she said, halting a few dozen yards down the path, where trees closed in on either side. “He must have cut through the underbrush and been waiting for me.”

“Did he follow you after he talked to you?” Ethan asked.

“He started walking back toward camp, but he could have turned around when he was out of sight.”

They continued to a wooden hut, open at the top except for a platform, on which sat a blue plastic barrel. The door to the hut was open A bearded young man was inside, painting the walls a light blue-gray. “What are you doing?” Michelle demanded.

He stopped in mid-brushstroke. “The Prophet told me to paint in here,” he said.

“Why aren’t you out searching with everyone else?” she asked.

“He told me it was more important to paint.”

“Were there any paint marks on the walls before you started?” Ethan asked. The young man must have been working for a while—all four walls were mostly coated with paint.

The man scratched his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t pay any attention. Anyway, I’m almost finished.”

Ethan nudged Michelle. “Let’s find Metwater,” he said. He could hear voices now, perhaps a sign the searchers were nearby.

“That’s the same color paint that was dumped on me,” she said. “Metwater must have ordered it painted to hide the evidence.”

“Maybe.” The voices grew louder and they emerged into a second clearing, this one empty of dwellings, but full of people. Ethan spotted Metwater right away—with his long, dark hair and all-white clothing, he stood out amidst his ragtag group of followers. “Metwater, I want to talk to you,” he called.

Metwater raised his head and fixed his gaze first on Michelle. Ethan couldn’t read his expression. When his gaze shifted to Ethan, Metwater looked calm—too calm. “I understand a child went missing from camp,” Ethan said as he and Michelle approached the self-appointed Prophet.

“His mother reported him missing,” Metwater said. “We haven’t found any sign of foul play—and no sign of the child.”





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