by Cindi Myers
He heard the steel in her voice and sensed it in her posture as she sat up straight behind him. Only her hands tightly gripping his sides gave any clue to her nervousness. He remembered the matter-of-fact way she had laid out her story in the Rangers’ office, with no tears or pleadings. As much as he found himself wanting to look after her, she was a woman used to looking after herself, and she wasn’t going to let him forget it.
Starfall obviously wasn’t concerned about speed limits, as she drove fifteen and twenty miles over the posted speeds all the way into the park. Only when they turned onto the first dirt road did she slow down, in deference to the washboard surface of the two-track that cut across the wilderness.
The landscape that spread out around them was unlike what most people associated with Colorado. Though distant mountains showed snowcapped peaks against an expanse of turquoise sky, the land in the park and surrounding wilderness areas was high desert. Sagebrush and stunted pinyons dotted the rolling expanse of cracked brown earth, and boulders the size of cars lay scattered like thrown dice. Though the terrain looked dry and barren, it was home to vibrant life, from colorful lizards and swift rabbits to deer and black bear. Hidden springs formed lush oases, and the roaring cataract of the Gunnison River had cut the deep Black Canyon that gave the park its name, a place of wild beauty unlike any other in the United States.
Walt had to slow the Harley to a crawl to steer around the network of potholes and protruding rocks, and to avoid being choked by the sedan’s dust. Even if he hadn’t already known the location of Metwater’s camp, the rooster tail of dust that fanned out behind the car hung in the air long after the vehicle passed, providing a clear guide to their destination.
By the time he and Hannah reached the small parking area, the women had the car unloaded and were preparing to carry the bundles of clean laundry over the footbridge. Without asking, they left two bundles behind. Walt and Hannah took these and fell into step behind them.
The camp looked much as it had on his visit four days before, people gathered in front of trailers and tents, others working around picnic tables in a large open-sided shelter with a roof made of logs and woven branches. A group of men played cards in the shade of a lean-to fashioned from a tarp, while a trio of children ran along the creek, pausing every few steps to plunge sticks into the water.
“There are a lot of people here,” Hannah whispered.
“A couple dozen, best we can determine,” Walt said.
A man stepped forward to take the bag of laundry from Starfall. “Who are they?” he asked, jerking his head toward Walt and Hannah.
“They want to join the Family,” she said.
The man, who looked to be in his late twenties, wore his sandy hair long and pulled back in a ponytail. He had a hawk nose and a cleft in his chin, and the build of a cage fighter or a bull rider—not tall, but all stringy muscle and barely contained energy. He looked them up and down, then spat to the side. “I guess that’s up to the Prophet,” he said.
He and Starfall walked away, leaving Walt and Hannah standing alone on the edge of the camp. Hannah moved closer and he put his arm around her. “What do we do now?” she asked.
“Let’s go talk to the Prophet.”
“Where is he?” she asked.
“What’s your best guess?” he asked.
She surveyed the camp, taking in the motley collection of dwellings, from a camper shell on the back of a pickup truck with one flat tire to a luxurious motor home with an array of solar panels on the roof. “My guess is the big RV,” she said.
“You get an A.” He took his arm from around her. “Come on. Let’s see if the Prophet will grant us an interview.”
No one said anything as they headed toward the motor home, but Walt could feel dozens of eyes on them. No one was rushing to welcome the new converts with open arms, that was for sure. Was it because they were waiting to take their cue from Metwater? Or had the Prophet instilled suspicion of all outsiders in his followers?
They mounted the steps to the RV and Walt rapped hard on the door. After a moment it opened and Andi Matheson answered. Andi—or Asteria, as she called herself now—had had more contact with the Rangers than anyone else in camp, but she showed no sign of recognition as she stared at Walt. “Yes?”
“We’d like to see the Prophet,” he said. “We—my wife and I—” he indicated Hannah “—are big admirers of his and would like to join the group.”
She nodded, as if this made perfect sense, and held the door open wider. “Come in.”
The interior of the RV was dim and cool, the living room filled with a leather sofa and several upholstered chairs. Andi indicated they should sit, then disappeared through an archway into the back of the vehicle.
Walt sat on the sofa and Hannah settled next to him. She was breathing shallowly, and he could almost feel the nervousness rolling off her in waves. He gripped her hand and squeezed. “It’s going to be okay,” he said.
She nodded, and didn’t pull away.
“The woman who let us in is Andi Matheson,” Walt said, keeping his voice low.
Hannah nodded. “I read about her online. She’s the daughter of someone famous, right?”
“Her father is Senator Pete Matheson—though right now he’s serving time for murdering an FBI agent.”
“She’s obviously pregnant,” Hannah said. “Is Metwater the father?”
“No,” Walt said. “That would be the man the senator killed.”
Hannah’s face softened with sympathy. “How terrible for her.”
“She seems to have settled in nicely with Metwater,” Walt said.
There wasn’t a clock in the room, so he had no idea how long they waited, though he thought it might have been as long as ten minutes. “What’s taking so long?” Hannah whispered.
Just then, Andi reappeared from the back of the RV. “The Prophet will see you,” she said.
Walt and Hannah stood and started toward Andi. She held up a hand. “He doesn’t want to see you together,” she said. She turned to Hannah. “He wants to interview you first. Alone.”
Chapter Five
“I don’t think—” Walt began, but Hannah interrupted him.
“I don’t mind talking with him by myself.” She assumed what she hoped was an eager expression. “It would be a privilege to meet the Prophet.” Was that laying it on too thick? Probably not, for a man who had the nerve to refer to himself as the Prophet.
Andi turned to Walt. “You can wait outside,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s your turn.”
Walt turned to Hannah. “If you’re sure?”
“I’ll be fine.” After all, it wasn’t as if Metwater was going to do anything with Andi right here and a bunch of other people around. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t had experience fending off fresh men. Even if Metwater was the lecher Walt had made him out to be, Hannah could handle him.
Walt left, then Andi put on a broad-brimmed hat and headed for the door also. “Where are you going?” Hannah asked.
“The Prophet wants to speak with you alone,” she said, and left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Hannah hugged her arms across her chest and walked to the window, but heavy shades blocked any view out—or in. She took a deep breath, fighting for calm. She shouldn’t be afraid of Metwater. Walt was close by if she needed anything. She needed to keep her head and use this opportunity to learn as much as possible about the Prophet, and about Emily and Joy.
“Please, have a seat. I want you to be comfortable.”
She turned and stared at the man who spoke. Metwater—and this had to be Metwater—was almost naked, wearing only a pair of low-slung, loose lounge pants in some sort of silky fabric. The kind of thing she’d seen Hugh Hefner wear in old photographs. At the thought, she had to stifle a laugh.
“Please share what you find so amusing.” Barefoot, he moved into the room with the sensual grace of a panther, lamplight gleaming on the smooth muscles of his chest and arms and stomach. Curly dark hair framed a face like Michelangelo’s David, the shadow of beard adding a masculine roughness.
All mirth deserted her as he moved closer still, stopping when he was almost touching her, so that she could feel the heat of his body, smell his musk and see the individual lashes that framed his dark eyes. He stared at her, crowding her personal space, stripping away her privacy. She found it impossible to look away from that gaze—the hypnotic stare of a predator.
“What amuses you?” he asked again, his voice deep and velvety, seductive.
“I laugh when I’m nervous,” she said. “I never thought I’d get to meet you in person.” This much was true. She had never really wanted to meet the man she blamed for her sister’s death. Even if Metwater hadn’t killed Emily, Hannah believed her sister wouldn’t have died if she had stayed near her real family instead of joining up with this pretend one.
“There’s no need to be nervous around me.” He took her hand and led her toward the sofa. She forced herself not to pull away. Better to let him think she was under his spell. He had the kind of personality that would enchant many women. She could see how Emily, pregnant and feeling alone, mourning the loss of her fiancé and the future she had planned, might fall for someone like this. She would revel in the attention of someone so charismatic and seemingly powerful. She wouldn’t have seen through his charm the way Hannah did.
She slid her hand out of his grasp and sat up straight, hoping her prim posture would put him off a little. The dimples on either side of his mouth deepened and he leaned toward her. “Tell me why you’re interested in becoming a member of my family,” he said.
His family. Not “our family” or “the family”, but something that belonged to him. “My husband and I want to build a life that focuses on essentials—what’s really important.” That was a quote straight out of his blog.
“Why not do as so many others have done and set up a homestead on your own, or sell everything and take to the road?” he asked. “You could sign up for missionary work overseas or join a religious order. Why come to me?”
“While we believe in spirituality, we don’t belong to any particular religion,” she said. “And we want to work together with a like-minded group with an inspiring leader.” Because, obviously, it was all about him.
“We don’t have many married couples here,” he said. “We discourage it, in fact.”
“Why is that?” She knew he wanted her to ask the question.
“I see marriage as an outdated construct,” he said. “And it’s a distraction. How can you pledge loyalty to the Family as a whole when you’ve already pledged yourself to one other person? A single person is much freer to follow the dictates of her heart.”
“So you require your followers to be single?” she asked.
“Not at all.” He brushed his fingers across her shoulder. “I merely see it as a preferable state.”
She shifted, putting a few more inches between them—the most she could manage.
“How did you learn about me?” he asked.
Walt had instructed her to say she had discovered the Prophet’s blog online and that had led to the two of them reading everything they could find about him and his disciples. But she couldn’t pass up the chance to learn more about his connection with her sister. “A friend told me about you,” she said. “Before she left to join your group. I’m hoping she’s still here. I would love to reconnect with her.”
“What is your friend’s name?”
“Emily Dietrich.”
His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes—a darkness he quickly masked. “Your friend told you she was going to join the Family?”
“Yes. I’m sure that’s what she said. She attended a rally where you spoke and was convinced you offered exactly what she was looking for, for herself and her baby. Is she here? When can I see her?”
He took her hand again, holding on tightly when she tried to pull free. “When was the last time you spoke to your friend?” he asked.
“About six months ago, right before she left to follow you.” Stick to the truth as much as possible, Walt had told her.
“Your friend must have changed her mind,” he said. “She never came to me. At least, no one using the name Emily Dietrich has ever been a member of my family.”
He sounded sincere, but the flash of irritation she had seen at the first mention of Emily’s name told her he was lying. He had recognized the name, and didn’t like that she had brought it up. “How odd,” she said. “I wonder what happened to her?”
“Does it change your mind about joining us, knowing your friend isn’t here?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “You asked how I learned about you, and it was through her. I was hoping I’d get to see her again, but she isn’t the main reason we’re here. It’s because we believe in everything you teach and we want that kind of life for ourselves.”
“Do you know what it means to be a part of a family?” he asked.
“Well, I suppose...” She hesitated, trying to remember what he had said about this in his writings, but she was drawing a blank. “Family members look out for and support one another,” she said. “You try to live in harmony and act in a way that’s to the benefit of everyone, not simply yourself.”
“True.” He nodded. “As a part of my family, I would expect you to put the needs of the group ahead of yourself. We purposely separate ourselves from the outside world in order to focus on perfecting our union. While I would never forbid you to be in contact with relatives and friends from your old life, most people find as they immerse themselves in the day-to-day life of the Family, they are less and less inclined to want to be with others who don’t share our sense of purpose and our views.”
She tried to look thoughtful. “I can see that,” she said.
He rubbed his thumb up and down the third finger of her left hand. “You said you were married. Where is your ring?”
She stared down at her empty fingers. She and Walt had spent hours going over all the details of coming here. Why hadn’t they remembered a ring? “We don’t hold with the trappings of society. We don’t need a band of precious metal to seal our vows to one another.”
He gave her hand a final squeeze—so hard she winced—then released his grip on her and sat back. He was no longer the seducing lover, but the practical businessman. “What resources do you bring to the group?” he said. “Everyone must contribute for the good of the whole.”
“We have some money, from savings and from selling some things to pay for our trip here,” she said. “And I enjoy working with children. I can teach the older ones and help care for younger ones.”
“What about your husband? What does he do?”
They had rehearsed this. What had Walt said? “He was a carpenter. He’s very good with his hands.”
“Oh, is he?” Why did the words sound so sarcastic? “You’ll have to provide your own shelter and clothing,” he said. “Everyone here has to earn his or her keep. You’ll be expected to embark on a course of study until you prove yourself ready to join us.”
“What will we study?” she asked.
“Whatever I deem necessary.” He rested his hand on her shoulder, a heavy, possessive touch that had her fighting her instinct to pull away. “I will personally instruct you on what you need to know to be a good disciple.”
“Walt and I will look forward to learning more,” she said.
“It’s important for you to maintain your individuality, even though you are married,” he said. “I consider you and your husband two separate candidates for inclusion in our group. Not everyone earns full acceptance as a member
of the Family. You’ll come to see the benefit of this as part of your teaching.”
“Do you ever kick anyone out?” she asked. “I mean, if they do something that upsets the harmony of the group?” Had Emily done something to upset him? Is that why she had been so afraid?
“We punish when necessary. Our justice is not the justice of the world. We answer to a higher power.”
“What does that mean?” It sounded as if he thought he was above the law, free to act in whatever way he wished. No wonder Emily had been afraid.
“You’ll learn as part of your training.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come. It’s time for you to meet your future sisters and brothers.”
“What about Walt?”
“Don’t worry about him. I’ll see that he’s taken care of.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. He had made it clear he didn’t think too much of marriage—and the implication was that he preferred to focus on her and leave Walt out in the cold. She definitely didn’t like the possessive way he held her hand—she had always resented men who tried to take over and drag her around like some pretty ornament who was supposed to smile and look nice, but not express too many opinions. She managed to pull her hand from his grasp. But she hastened to soothe the affront that flashed in his eyes with a smile and flattering words. “I’m thrilled you’ve taken such an interest,” she said. “I never dreamed I’d be so privileged as to study with you personally.”
He put one arm around her and pulled her close. “You and I are going to be good friends,” he said, and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Very special friends.”
* * *
WALT DIDN’T HAVE to spend very long in the Family’s camp to confirm a few things the other Rangers had told him about Daniel Metwater. The Prophet had surrounded himself with mostly young people and mostly women. Beautiful women. Every woman Walt encountered was strikingly attractive. Hannah would fit in perfectly with the rest of Metwater’s harem—the thought made Walt’s jaw tighten. He told himself if she was a trained officer, instead of a civilian, he wouldn’t be so agitated about her being in that RV alone with the self-proclaimed prophet. The sooner they learned what they needed to know about Hannah’s sister and niece, the sooner they could get out of here.
