by Cindi Myers
“I still don’t like it.” He attacked another wonton. “I’d think you’d be afraid to stay here alone after what happened to you today.”
“I was fine until you came along with all these dire predictions of peril. Honestly, you’re blowing everything out of proportion.”
“Am I? You could have died today. I don’t like the idea of someone trying again.”
“I don’t like that idea, either, but it’s not going to do anyone any good for me to run around wringing my hands and fretting about it. I think I’m as safe here in my own home as I would be anywhere else. And I still think the attack on me was random—I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Those two wanted me out of the way so they could get into the hotel room. They were even dressed like workmen.”
“What did you find out when you talked to the maid?” Dylan asked.
“Not much,” she admitted. “She said she overheard Asher on the phone with someone. He was arguing, but she didn’t know what the argument was about.”
“Maybe Asher was arguing with his killer.”
“Maybe.” She spooned more fried rice onto her plate. “What did your search of Asher’s room turn up?”
He hesitated.
“Just tell me if you found anything to link him to Andi,” she said.
“We don’t know yet. He has files on his computer, but they’re all encrypted. We’ve got people working on it.” He dipped an egg roll in plum sauce and took a bite.
“Check his phone, too.”
He swallowed. “Thanks. I hadn’t thought of that.”
She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him. But perhaps they hadn’t descended into such juvenile sparring yet. “I’m going to keep digging,” she said.
“What did you learn about Andi and Asher?”
“How did you know I was researching them?”
“I saw the web page on your phone browser. Did you learn anything?”
She shook her head. “Asher has definitely kept a low profile, but maybe that’s usual for a federal agent. All the mentions I found about Andi had to do with her father, or some society do she attended. She’s certainly living a very different kind of life now.”
“I’m going back out to the camp tomorrow to talk to Andi,” he said. “I need to tell her about her father and find out if she’s heard anything, and I intend to ask her about Asher.”
“Let me go with you.”
“No.”
“She’ll talk to me. You just frighten her.”
“You make me sound like some kind of bully.”
“Let’s just say you can be pretty intimidating when you want to be.”
“Do I intimidate you?” His eyes met hers and she felt that jolt of attraction again. She wasn’t afraid of him, only of where these wild feelings she had for him might take her.
She wet her suddenly dry lips. “I don’t know, Lieutenant—do I intimidate you?”
“Intimidate isn’t the word I’d use.” He leaned across the table toward her and cupped his hand along the side of her injured cheek, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him. “You’re a puzzle I want to figure out,” he said.
She wanted to lean into him, to press her lips to his and learn if he would respond with the same boldness with which he questioned a suspect or faced down danger. But once she crossed that barrier with him, there wouldn’t be any going back. Neither of them was the type to back down from a challenge.
The loud strains of Fergie sounded from her phone, making her jump. Dylan sat back, arms crossed on his chest. She avoided his gaze, checking the phone’s screen instead. Not a number she recognized, but it could always be a new client—someone wanting her to spy on a cheating spouse or track down a long-lost relative. “Larimer Investigations,” she answered.
“Is this Kayla Larimer?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Yes.”
“I have a message for you from Andi Matheson.”
Kayla sat up straighter. “What is it?”
“She needs to talk to you. Can you meet her at the parking area for the Dead Horse Canyon Trail tomorrow afternoon at one?”
“What is this about?” Kayla asked. “Who is this?”
“I’m just a friend. I promised to call and give you this message. Can you meet her?”
“Yes, of course. But—”
The line went dead before she could ask any more questions. Kayla looked up and met Dylan’s eyes. “Andi wants to meet me in the morning,” she said.
“I’ll go with you,” he said.
“She said she wanted to talk to me—not you.”
“I’ll go with you.” His expression was grim. “I don’t trust these people. I’m not going to let you go alone.”
* * *
DYLAN PICKED UP Kayla from her house the next afternoon. He had been tempted to insist on staying with her overnight—on her couch, though he wouldn’t have turned her down if she had invited him into her bed. He didn’t trust whoever was responsible for the attack on her not to make another try. But in the end he had decided alienating her by pushing to get his way wasn’t worth the trouble. He had made her show him her gun and her locks, and he was satisfied both were adequate. Then he had touched base with the Montrose PD and impressed upon them the need to make a few extra passes by her house during the night.
He showed up a half hour early the next afternoon, since he didn’t entirely trust her not to slip off by herself. While he admired independence in a woman, she seemed to want to take it too far. He still got chills when he thought about how close she had come to dying yesterday.
She met him in her driveway, her purse slung over one shoulder, a steaming mug in her hand. “I could have driven myself,” she said.
Did he know her or what? “Good afternoon to you, too.” He opened the passenger door for her. “Look at it this way—you’re saving gas and wear and tear on your car.”
She slid into the seat and reached for the seat belt. “Just remember, Andi wants to talk to me.”
“I have to give her the news about her father and try to find out if she’s been in contact with him since he disappeared.” The FBI had handed that job off to the Rangers.
“So the senator is still missing?” she asked.
“Yes. Apparently, there’s no sign of a struggle at his home or office, and no one has seen or heard from him since he left work Thursday.” Dylan put the Cruiser in gear and backed out of her driveway.
“What about the man who attacked me? You said the van he was driving belonged to Senator Matheson? Does he know anything?”
“The senator used the van as a campaign vehicle when he ran for reelection two years ago, and some of his staff workers have used it occasionally since then,” Dylan said. “We still haven’t been able to interview the suspect, but our research hasn’t turned up a connection.” He glanced at her. “So we’re agreed that I’ll talk to Andi?”
“Fine. But let me talk to her first. I don’t want you scaring her off before I find out what she wants.”
“I thought we established last night that I’m not that scary.”
She flushed. Was she remembering that moment when he had almost kissed her? His fingertips tingled at the memory, remembering the heat of her against his skin, and the almost overwhelming need he had had to touch her.
“You don’t frighten me,” she said. “But Andi may be another story.”
He pulled to the stop sign at the end of her street. “Fine. You take the lead, but then I get to ask my questions.”
“I think we’ve already established that you’re good at questions.” The amused glint in her eyes took the sting out of her words.
“That’s right,” he said. “When I was a kid my dad threatened to gag me with my own bandanna whe
n we were out working and I’d pester him with too many questions.”
He turned onto the highway and she settled back into the seat and sipped from her mug. “Do you like ranching?” she asked after a moment.
“I like being out-of-doors. I like working with the animals. But it can be frustrating. There’s so much you can’t control, from weather to cattle prices. And sometimes it’s just a lot of hard work. I had to go away for a while to appreciate it.”
“Where did you go?”
“To Denver. I was in law enforcement there for ten years after college. But I missed all this.” He indicated the sweep of land out the windshield. “And my dad had some health problems and needed more help. When the opening for this job came up, I was glad to take it.”
She didn’t say anything and he wondered what she was thinking. From what little she had said about her past, he gathered she had never had a place she felt rooted to—a real home. She had come to Montrose almost by chance and had no ties here other than her job.
“This work must be different from what you did in the city,” she said. “This isn’t exactly a high-crime area.”
“More goes on here than you might think,” he said. “But a lot of it goes on behind the scene—drugs, theft of artifacts, smuggling. And a lot of people see public lands as a good place to hide out.”
“People like Daniel Metwater.”
“Yeah. How much do you know about him?”
“Not a lot,” she said. “He started calling himself a prophet and recruiting followers a little over a year ago. I take it he comes from money.”
“His father was an industrialist named Oscar Metwater. When he died, Daniel and his twin brother, David, inherited the family fortune. David was killed a few months later in what was likely a mob hit. He had a gambling habit and had embezzled money from the family firm and apparently borrowed from the wrong people.”
“In one of his official bios Daniel says something about his brother—about how his death made him see the futility of the life he had been leading and made him seek a better way.”
“I guess some people would see having a slew of followers turn over all their possessions to you and do your bidding as a better way of life,” Dylan said. “And from what I saw, the majority of those followers are beautiful young women.”
“While some religions teach the importance of caring for the poor and afflicted, I’m guessing Daniel Metwater isn’t one of them,” she said.
“What about your father?” he asked. “Was he like Metwater?”
“Oh, he could quote scripture about widows and orphans when he thought it would encourage people to put more in the collection plate,” she said. “But the only person he was really interested in looking out for was himself. Metwater strikes me as the same.” She shifted toward Dylan. “Do you know why Agent Asher had Metwater’s picture in his car?”
“We haven’t come up with anything yet. The computer forensics may take a while. Or we might find out something from Andi.”
She fell silent and Dylan didn’t try to engage her further. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up her father. Clearly, it wasn’t a pleasant topic for her.
After a dusty ride on a rugged dirt track, they reached the parking area for the trail, marked only by a bullet-riddled brown sign. The Ranger Cruiser was the only vehicle in sight. Dylan pulled into the lot and shut off the engine, and silence closed around them. He scanned the outcropping of rocks and clumps of scrubby piñons and sagebrush for any signs of life. “This would be a good place for an ambush,” he said.
His plan was to wait in the Cruiser until someone approached, but before he could say so, Kayla opened her door and got out. Almost immediately, Andi emerged from behind a large boulder, her long hair blown sideways in a gust of hot wind. She wore the same prairie skirt and tank top she had had on yesterday, a blue cotton shawl around her shoulders.
She eyed Dylan warily as he climbed out of the vehicle and came to stand behind Kayla. “What is he doing here?” Andi asked. “I wanted you to come alone.”
“The person who called me didn’t say anything about that,” Kayla said. “I thought it would be a good idea for him to come along for protection. You can’t blame me for being nervous, after what happened to Frank Asher.”
At the mention of Asher, Andi’s lips trembled, but she brought her emotions under control. “Can I trust him?” she asked.
“Trust me with what?” Dylan said, ignoring the annoyed look from Kayla.
“Can I trust you to keep my confidences?” Andi asked. She wrapped her hands in the ends of the shawl. “I don’t want certain people knowing about what I’m going to tell you.”
“What people?” Kayla asked.
Andi shook her head and began walking away from them, toward the road. Kayla and Dylan fell into step alongside her, gravel crunching under their feet. “Do you mean Daniel Metwater?” Kayla asked. “Is that why you wanted to meet us away from the camp—so the Prophet wouldn’t know you were meeting me?”
“Everyone in the camp is busy preparing for the ceremony this evening,” Andi said.
“What kind of ceremony?” Kayla asked.
“We have a new member joining the Family. That’s why I couldn’t call you myself yesterday. I had to stay and help with the preparations. The woman who called was one of the ones chosen to go into town to buy food for tonight’s celebration.”
She fell silent again, and Dylan fought the urge to fire more questions at her. Maybe Kayla was right and he needed to let her take the lead here, at least until Andi was more comfortable with him. She was calmer today, though an air of sadness clung to her. The skirt she wore was faded, with a tear in the hem at the back, and the pink polish on her toes was chipped. As the daughter of a prominent senator, she was probably used to designer fashions and spa treatments. Was she growing disillusioned with life in the wilderness with the so-called prophet?
“How are you doing?” Kayla asked when they had walked another hundred yards or so. “You were pretty upset when I saw you yesterday.”
“It was the shock of learning about Frank’s death.” She swept a lock of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind one ear.
“You knew him, then,” Kayla said.
“Oh, yes.” She drew in a deep breath. “We were lovers. He’s the father of my baby.”
So Kayla had been right, Dylan thought.
“Was he coming here to see you?” Kayla asked.
“I don’t know.” Andi pulled the shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “I told him not to come—that I had nothing to say to him. We ceased being close months ago, before I even learned I was pregnant.”
“Why did you break up?” Kayla asked.
She looked away, lips pressed tightly together.
“You probably think the answer to that question is none of our business,” Dylan said. “But if there’s the slightest chance that the reason the two of you split up could have anything to do with his death, we need to know.”
She shook her head, still not looking at them. “I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with his death.”
“We’re in a better position to determine that,” Dylan said.
“Frank was my father’s friend before he was mine, and in the end, he had the same mindset. He was of that world. Isn’t that enough?”
“So Frank Asher and your father knew each other?” Dylan asked. He kept his eyes on Andi, though he was aware of Kayla’s frown. She wasn’t pleased he was asking so many questions, but that was his job.
“Frank worked for my father,” Andi said. “That’s how we met.”
“I thought he was an FBI agent,” Kayla said.
“He took a year’s leave from the Bureau to work as my father’s private security agent. But when my father found out we were lovers, he and Frank argued an
d Frank went back to work for the Bureau.” Andi turned and began walking again.
“When was the last time you saw Frank?” Kayla asked.
“Last week. He must have found out I was here and he stopped me in town and said we had to talk. I was with some of the other women and I told him I had nothing to say to him. He said he would come to the camp to talk to me. I told him not to, but he didn’t listen. Men don’t, do they? Not when it’s a woman talking.”
She didn’t look at Dylan when she said the words, but he felt their impact.
“Do you know anything about what happened to him?” Kayla asked, her voice gentle.
Andi shook her head. “I was so shocked when you told me it was him.” She hugged her arms across her chest. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you today. I knew you would wonder why I was so upset over his death. Even though I haven’t loved him for a while, at one time he meant something to me, so I grieve. And it saddens me to think my child will never know its father.”
Kayla put a hand on Andi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure it was a great shock.”
Andi straightened. “Of course, the Prophet will be the child’s father, as he is father to all of us.”
“Is that how you see him?” Dylan asked. “As a father? You and he are close to the same age.”
Andi glanced back at him. “Well, perhaps not a father. But he is our leader. Our guide.” She brought the shawl up to cover her head. “We should go back now. I’ve said what I needed to say.”
She led the way ahead, then faltered, stumbling. Dylan reached out to steady her, then froze as a man stepped from the brush alongside the road. Sunlight glinted off the lenses of his mirrored sunglasses, and off the pistol in his hand.
“If you want to know more about me, Lieutenant, you ought to talk to me,” Daniel Metwater said.
Chapter Eight
Kayla stood very still, more fascinated than fearful, as Daniel Metwater strode toward them. Though not a large man, he exuded power, a kind of magnetic vitality radiating from him. He moved with a swagger, a gleam in his eyes that told her he was confident of the admiration of all who observed him. As much as she loathed his attitude, she could admit to being compelled by him. She understood why so many young women fell under his charismatic spell. The promise of being the focus of such raw energy and sex appeal could be intoxicating.
