Murder in Black Canyon

by Cindi Myers

“I don’t know. Buy a burger and a beer. See a movie.” He looked around. “Anything’s better than being stuck here in the desert all the time.”

  “I thought this place was the Family’s version of paradise,” Dylan said. He kicked the front tire of the truck. “Funny that there’s what looks like fresh mud and gravel in the treads of these tires, if it’s just been sitting here for weeks.” He sent Abe a warning look, then turned away.

  “Where are you going?” Zach asked.

  “To talk to Metwater.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be back,” Simon said.

  The two officers made their way toward Metwater’s trailer. “So, is that the truck?” Simon asked.

  “It fits the profile,” Dylan said. “Though the engine did look pretty shot.”

  “Anyone could yank out a bunch of wires and throw in some grass and trash,” Simon said.

  “Even a paint match isn’t going to prove anything,” Dylan said. “Not if they stick to their story.”

  “They’ll cave,” Simon said. “Pointing out that fresh gravel was a nice touch. We’ll lean on them some more after we talk to Metwater and we’ll be hauling them back to headquarters before you know it.”

  “I’d rather have Metwater in handcuffs than his two flunkies,” Dylan said.

  “Get them into an interview room and maybe they’ll spill something incriminating.” They mounted the steps to Metwater’s trailer and Simon knocked. No answer. He knocked again. “Metwater, this is the police. Open up!”

  Silence. And no sound of movement within. Dylan moved to the tent next door. “Andi! Andi, it’s Dylan Holt. Could I talk to you a minute?”

  The tent flap lifted, but instead of Andi, Starfall stood in the opening. “Andi isn’t here,” she said.

  “Where is she?”

  “She said she was going for a walk.” She scowled at them. “Why can’t you leave her alone? She hasn’t done anything to hurt anyone.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Simon asked.

  Starfall only scowled harder.

  “Do you know where Daniel Metwater is?” Dylan asked. “Did he go walking with Andi?”

  “The Prophet left early this morning,” she said. “If you want to talk to him, you’ll have to wait until he gets back.”

  “Where did he go?” Simon asked.

  “He speaks at gatherings around the country. I don’t know where he went this time. It’s not my business to know.”

  “When will he return?” Dylan asked.

  “I don’t know. It could be this evening or tomorrow or a week from now.”

  “Maybe he skipped out on you,” Simon said.

  Her eyes widened. “The Prophet would never desert us,” she said.

  Dylan could tell Simon was prepared to argue the point, but he cut in. “Do you know anything about Zach and Abe taking their truck out last night after the ceremony?”

  She took a step back. “I don’t know anything.”

  “You didn’t see them?” Simon asked. “They ran Lieutenant Holt and the woman he was with off the road. Trashed a government vehicle and injured a law officer and a civilian. They could have been killed. If your Prophet thinks this is a good way to get us to leave him alone, he’s not even half as smart as he looks.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Starfall let the tent flap fall closed.

  Simon reached for it, but Dylan stayed his hand. “That’s enough. We’ve given everyone here a lot to think about. We’ll come back later when we can talk to Metwater.”

  “What about the truck?” Simon asked as they retraced their steps to the car.

  “You heard them—it hasn’t run in months.”

  “They might take off in it and try to run.”

  “They won’t get far.”

  Simon unlocked the Cruiser and they climbed in. “Do you think Metwater was feeling the heat and skipped town? Maybe with Andi Matheson?”

  Dylan fastened his seat belt. “Anything’s possible, but I don’t think so. Maybe it’s like she said—he’s off speaking somewhere. That’s one of the ways he recruits followers.”

  “I read some of his blog and the stuff on his website.” Simon started the engine. “All about family and peace and harmony. I guess that appeals to some people.”

  Dylan almost laughed. “But not you?”

  Simon scowled. “I live in the real world. I don’t need a fantasy like that.”

  “Careful, Simon. You might be turning into a stereotype of a jaded cop.”

  “Bite me, Holt.”

  “I’ll pass.” He settled back in the seat. “We’ll check in with Andi and Metwater tomorrow. If they’re not around then, we can start a search. Until then, I think all we can do is wait.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Kayla emerged from the Montrose Police Station after giving her statement about the previous night’s hit-and-run, she was surprised to find a Ranger Brigade Cruiser snugged in beside her Subaru. Her heart beat a little faster and she quickened her pace, faltering when Carmen Redhorse emerged from the driver’s seat. Then her elation edged toward panic. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Is Dylan okay?”

  “Dylan’s fine.” Carmen’s smile was warm. “I’m here to give you a ride to Ranger headquarters so you can give us your statement. I know all this paperwork is a pain, but it’s important in helping us build a case.”

  “I can drive myself.” She started toward her car, but Carmen stepped in front of her.

  “You can, but this is easier. We can swing by your place and you can drop off your car. How are you feeling? That’s a nasty bruise on your face.”

  Kayla touched the bruise she had received two days before in her struggle with the kidnappers. It was only a little tender now. “I’m okay. What is this really about? Did Dylan send you here?” And if he had, why?

  “I take my orders from Captain Ellison, not the lieutenant. Considering you’ve been attacked twice in the past two days, he thought it would be a good idea to keep an eye on you.”

  “Why?”

  Carmen wasn’t smiling anymore—she looked pained. “I don’t want to frighten you, but you might be in danger.”

  Kayla wanted to scoff at the idea, but the full meaning of Carmen’s words was beginning to sink in. “Wait a minute. Do you—or the captain—think I was the target last night? I thought whoever hit us was going after the Cruiser. Did you find the driver? Did he tell you he was after me?”

  “We don’t know anything yet. We’re just being careful.”

  “I can be careful at home.” She started for her car again and this time Carmen let her open the door and slide into the driver’s seat.

  But when she tried to shut the door, the other woman put a hand out to stop her. “We need you to make a statement, anyway, so you might as well hang out with me for a few hours,” she said.

  “And then what?” Kayla asked.

  The smile returned. “And then I think the captain is assigning Dylan to the night shift.”

  The words sent a tickle of pleasure up her spine. “I get the idea I don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

  “We’re not forcing you, but everyone would feel better if you’d come with us.”

  Kayla blew out a breath. If she did go home, she’d only sit there and stew. At least at Ranger headquarters she might find out more about what was going on. “All right. You can follow me to my place.”

  She left her car in the driveway, then joined Carmen in her Cruiser. “I really don’t need a bodyguard,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat.

  Carmen shifted into gear and backed into the street. “Hey, I’m a tough cop and even I think it would be nice sometime to have a good-looking man worried about me,” she said.
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br />   “You don’t have a boyfriend?” Kayla asked, then immediately wished she could take the words back. She hated when people asked her that kind of question. “Sorry, none of my business.”

  “That’s okay. It’s a natural question. Let’s just say the badge gets in the way of relationships for a lot of men. And even though I’m around men all day, it’s not a good idea to get involved with anyone on the job. So that leaves, what—suspects? A few witnesses?” She shook her head. “I’m young. Someone will come along.”

  “I like being single,” Kayla said. “I like making my own decisions and looking after myself.”

  “Oh, I agree,” Carmen said. “It’s lonely sometimes, though.”

  Yes, it was lonely sometimes. She hadn’t often felt that way, but since she had let Dylan into her life, his absence left a space she hadn’t noticed being empty before.

  Ranger Brigade headquarters was a bustle of activity, though Dylan was nowhere in sight. Carmen led Kayla to her desk, where she coached her through her statement about the previous day’s activities, beginning with that morning’s encounters with Andi Matheson and Daniel Metwater, up to the moment of the crash. “I don’t know how much good any of that will be for you,” Kayla said when they were done. “I only had an impression of a fairly large vehicle, and that the driver didn’t slow down, but hit us deliberately, then sped away.”

  “It’s all part of the record,” Carmen said. “Another piece in the puzzle.”

  The door opened and Simon entered, followed by Dylan. He spotted her right away and nodded, before turning to address Captain Ellison. “We found the truck,” he said. “Can we get a warrant to impound it?”

  “We can try,” Ellison said. “Where is it?”

  “At the camp. The two guys who were with it, Abelard Phillips and Zach Crenshaw, say it hasn’t run in weeks, but I found fresh mud in the tire treads, and the color and profile fit what we’re looking for. Simon got some paint samples.”

  “I’ll get started on the warrant request,” Simon said, and headed for his desk.

  Dylan joined the two women. “How are you doing?” he asked Kayla. He brushed the tips of his fingers lightly over her bruised cheek.

  “I’m fine.” She tried to ignore the tremor of awareness his touch sent through her. “I don’t need babysitting.”

  “Maybe not. But it will make me feel better.”

  She was trying to come up with a snappy retort when the door to headquarters burst open and two young men in dirty shorts and T-shirts, their faces sunburned, their hair windblown, burst in. “We want to confess,” the taller of the two said. “And then we need your help.”

  * * *

  ZACH AND ABE looked more pitiful than dangerous as Dylan and Ethan patted them down and led them to separate desks to give their statements. Dylan ended up with Abe, who limped to the chair Dylan offered and dropped into it with a groan. “We had to walk most of the way from camp before somebody gave us a ride,” he said. “I think my blisters have blisters.”

  “Why didn’t you drive your truck?” Dylan asked, taking his own seat behind the desk.

  “That’s why we need your help,” Abe said. “The Prophet stole it. He can’t do that, right? It’s my truck. My name’s on the title and everything, but he says it belongs to the Family now—along with everything else we brought with us, except what we could carry out with us.”

  “You talked to Daniel Metwater?” Dylan asked. “I thought he was out of town.”

  “He came back right after you left. Him and Asteria. I guess they only went up to Grand Junction or something. Anyway, Starfall must have blabbed that you were there and why, and he kicked us out. Told us to get whatever we could carry—but nothing else—and hit the road.” He leaned toward Dylan. “That’s stealing, right? We can file charges, can’t we?”

  “Why don’t we start at the beginning,” Dylan said. “You said you wanted to confess to something?”

  Abe sank back in his chair. “Yeah, that.” He glanced around nervously. “Promise you’re not going to beat me up or anything?”

  “Just tell me what happened.” Dylan had no intention of hurting the kid, but a little fear might persuade him to be more cooperative.

  “After you interrupted the ceremony last night we were really ticked off that you kept hassling everybody. We’re just out here trying to live in peace and you keep poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “So you decided to teach us a lesson.”

  “Well...” He looked away.

  “Did Daniel Metwater know what you intended?”

  “We told him someone needed to do something, and he agreed.”

  “Did he tell you to follow us?”

  “No. But we thought he approved. We thought it would be a good way to impress him.” Abe looked glum. “I guess we should have known better.”

  “What happened?”

  “Zach and I got in my truck and followed you out onto the highway. Then we rammed you and sent you into the ditch. We just wanted to shake you up and make you think twice about hassling us. We didn’t mean to hurt anyone or anything.”

  “Why did you shoot at us?”

  Abe flushed. “I was trying to shoot out the tires, but I guess I’m not a very good shot.”

  “You told me before that you didn’t have a gun. That the Prophet didn’t allow it.”

  “Yeah, well, last time we went into town I bought one, anyway. He’s got a gun, and I was tired of eating so much tofu and vegetables. Not when the place is crawling with rabbits.”

  “Where is the gun now?”

  “The Prophet made me hand it over to him. I mean, we were trying to help him and he raked us over the coals.”

  “You said he kicked you out?”

  “Yeah. He said we were troublemakers. First with that guy who died, then this.”

  “What about the guy who died? Why did Metwater blame you for what happened to him?”

  “Not for what happened to him, but for bringing him into camp. He said it caused bad juju and that was the reason the cops were around all the time. But we couldn’t have just left him in the desert for the buzzards. That’s just cold.”

  “What was Metwater doing this afternoon, while he was away from the camp?” Dylan asked.

  “I don’t know. Only those in his inner circle—his favorites—ever know what he’s up to.” Abe gave a snorting laugh. “We don’t have the right chromosomes for that, if you know what I mean.”

  “You’re not women.”

  “Right. He needs guys around for security and heavy lifting, but it’s really the chicks he likes. We thought when we joined up we’d have access to all these hot women, but the Prophet keeps them all for himself.”

  “You say he was with Andi Matheson this afternoon?”

  “Who?”

  “Asteria.”

  “Oh, yeah. They were all cozy and laughing. She’s definitely one of the inner circle. So can you help us get our stuff back? I mean, he can’t just take it, can he?”

  Dylan gave him a hard look. “You’re confessing to attacking a law enforcement officer and you expect us to help you get your stuff back?”

  He squirmed. “Well, yeah. We’re pleading guilty in exchange for a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  He leaned forward again and lowered his voice. “We know a lot of dirt on the Prophet. We tell you what we know in exchange for...what do you call it—like a flu shot?”

  “Immunity?”

  “Right, immunity.”

  “What do you know about the Prophet?”

  “Good stuff, I promise. The guy might look snowy white outside, but he’s definitely not.”

  “You’re going to have to be more specific than that if you want to avoid going to jail.�
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  Abe went pale under his sunburn at the word jail. “Well, like, everybody who joins the Family has to sign a contract that says all the property you have belongs to the group, but what it really means is that it belongs to the Prophet. But that can’t be legal, right?”

  “If you signed the contract willingly, it might.”

  “People only sign it because he promises all this stuff—eternal riches and joy and peace, things like that. And then you end up living in the middle of nowhere on tofu, sleeping in tents, and the hot girls won’t even give you the time of day.”

  “I’m going to need more than that if I’m going to persuade the district attorney to cut you a deal,” Dylan said.

  “Aww, man! We don’t have to get attorneys involved, do we?”

  Dylan remained silent, arms crossed over his chest.

  Abe sighed. “All right. How about this? His name isn’t even Daniel Metwater.”

  “No?” Dylan raised one eyebrow.

  “No. I was in his RV one time and I saw a bunch of papers and his driver’s license, in a folder on his desk. They all said David Metwater. Not Daniel, see? Maybe if you run that name through your computers, you’ll find out he has a criminal record or something.”

  “He had a twin brother named David. The brother died. It wouldn’t be that unusual for him to have kept his brother’s papers.”

  Abe looked crestfallen.

  “Where was Metwater the morning you and Zach found that man’s body?” Dylan asked.

  “He was in the camp.”

  “You saw him?”

  “Yeah. Right before we went hunting. He was eating breakfast with Asteria and Starfall and a bunch of others.”

  “What was he doing before that?”

  Zach scowled. “We all had to get up early for this sunrise ceremony. He’s big into that kind of thing. I mean, the middle of the night, practically, he expects us all to get up and dance around and chant, and then he delivers a ‘message.’ After a while it’s just the same stuff over and over.”

  “Sounds like you were getting pretty disillusioned by the whole experience,” Dylan said.

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I like some of his ideas, and I really don’t mind the camping out and stuff, but I thought it would be more fun. And that there would be more women—or at least women who would give me the time of day.”