by Cindi Myers
He could feel the other Family members watching him as he stood outside the RV, the sun beating down, making him sweat. He wiped his brow, then strode over to the card players. They looked up and watched his approach, expressions wary. “Hey,” he said, nodding in greeting. “My name’s Walt. My wife and I are hoping to join the Family.”
The stocky, bearded man who had greeted Walt and Marco when they had previously visited the camp looked him up and down, but gave no indication he recognized him. “I saw you ride in,” he said. “Nice-looking bike.”
“Nice-looking wife, too.” A lanky blond laid his cards facedown on the blanket they were sitting around. “The Prophet will like her.”
A couple of the other men snickered. Walt ignored them. “Good to meet you.”
He offered his hand to the blond, who shook it. “I’m Jobie. This is Emerson.” He indicated the man next to him, who wore black-rimmed glasses and a panama hat. “That’s Kiram.” He nodded to the bearded man.
Walt acknowledged each man in turn. Emerson offered his hand to shake, but Kiram only regarded him coolly.
“The camp looks pretty nice,” Walt said. “It’s a good location, you’ve got time to play cards, nobody hassling you.”
“It’s okay.” Kiram laid aside his cards also and nodded to an empty space across from him. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” Walt lowered himself to the blanket. “How long have you been following the Prophet?” he asked.
“A while.”
“Kiram’s been with the Family practically from the beginning,” Jobie said. “You got any cigs?”
“Sorry,” Walt said. “I don’t smoke.”
“Smoking isn’t allowed in camp,” Kiram said.
Jobie scowled at him. “I didn’t say I was going to smoke it in camp.”
“I guess there are a lot of rules you have to follow,” Walt said. “I know I read on the Prophet’s blog that he doesn’t allow guns in the camp or anything.” An injunction Walt had ignored. He considered the pistol he wore in an ankle holster as one more way to protect himself and Hannah out here in the wilderness.
“There are rules,” Kiram said. “It wouldn’t say much about a group that preaches peace to have us all walking around armed.”
“I can see that,” Walt said.
“Was it your wife’s idea to join up or yours?” Emerson asked.
“We decided together,” Walt said.
“My girlfriend talked me into it,” Emerson said. He nudged his hat farther back on his head. “We thought it would be cool living together with a bunch of people who thought the same way we did, communing with nature, hanging out in the woods and living off the land.”
“And is it?” Walt asked. “Cool, I mean.”
Emerson glanced toward Kiram, who was studying him, expressionless. “Sometimes,” he said. “I guess no life is perfect. My girlfriend likes it well enough.”
Jobie leaned toward Walt. “The thing you need to know about this place is that the women run the show. Well, the Prophet runs everything, but mostly, he runs the women.”
“So you’re telling me a woman can get away with anything around here,” Walt said.
Jobie shook his head. “Even the women have lines they can’t cross,” he said. “If they displease the Prophet, then they’re out of here. Doesn’t happen often, but sometimes...” His voice trailed away and he picked up his hand of cards again.
Though the words weren’t particularly ominous, something in Jobie’s tone sent a chill up Walt’s spine. “A girl I went to school with used to talk about joining up with the Family,” he said. “I wonder if she ever did. Her name was Emily Dietrich.”
“A lot of people here take on a new name,” Jobie said. “Or they just go by one name.”
“This girl was blonde, with blue eyes. Really pretty.” Which essentially described Hannah. The picture Hannah had shown him left little doubt that the two were sisters.
Jobie and Emerson looked at each other. “Was that the woman who was here in the spring for a while?” Jobie asked. “It kind of sounds like her.”
“That wasn’t her.” Kiram didn’t look up from his cards when he spoke, but Walt sensed the man was focused on the conversation.
Jobie shrugged. “Guess not, then. Maybe she changed her mind about joining up. I’d probably remember her if she had. There aren’t that many of us, and I tend to remember the women, especially.” He grinned.
“What happened to the woman who was here in the spring?” Walt directed his question to Kiram.
Still holding his cards, Kiram stood. “If you want to get along here, you need to learn not to ask so many questions,” he said.
He walked away. Walt turned to the other two. “What’s his problem?”
“He’s got a point,” Emerson said. “Asking questions is a good way to get into trouble around here.”
“What kind of trouble?” Walt asked.
The two exchanged looks. “The Prophet punishes the disobedient.”
“What kind of punishment?” Walt pressed.
“Just keep your mouth shut and you won’t have to find out.” Jobie nodded toward the motor home. “Here comes your wife.”
Hannah exited the RV with Metwater at her side. The Prophet had one arm around her shoulders. She was smiling, but Walt sensed tension. “Everyone, I have an announcement to make,” Metwater said.
Everyone around Walt put aside whatever they were doing and moved toward the RV. Even the children stopped playing and ran to their mothers’ sides to stare up at Metwater. It was as if he had brainwashed them all into thinking he really was a prophet, Walt thought, as he pushed through the crowd to the bottom of the steps. Hannah met his gaze, but Metwater ignored him.
“I’d like you to meet a new candidate for membership into the Family,” Metwater announced, in a deep, rich voice that carried easily over the crowd. He smiled at Hannah and squeezed her shoulder. “I think we’ll call you Serenity.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded. “I really prefer my own name,” she said.
“Serenity suits you,” he said. He turned back to the crowd. “Say hello to Serenity, everyone.”
“Hello, Serenity,” they chorused.
Hannah frowned, but said nothing. Walt mounted the steps, brushing aside the one man who moved forward as if to stop him. He moved to Hannah’s side and put his arm around her.
“This is Walter,” Metwater said. “He came to us with Serenity.”
“Hannah is my wife,” he said. “And it’s Walt, not Walter.” His grandmother was the only one who ever called him Walter.
The dreadlocked blond who had taken the laundry bag from Starfall ran toward them, a little out of breath. “The cops are back,” he said.
Metwater looked over the crowd, to the path that led into camp. Sure enough, Rangers Michael Dance and Lance Carpenter were making their way down the trail. Obviously, Carpenter had made it back from his honeymoon and Dance had returned from Denver, but what were the two officers doing here?
Dance and Carpenter stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked the crowd over. Walt took Hannah’s hand and tugged her toward the steps, planning to melt into the background. He figured his fellow officers were savvy enough not to give him away, but he didn’t want to risk anyone—especially Metwater—picking up on any subtle cues that they knew each other.
“We’ve had a report of a young woman who went missing from Montrose a couple of days ago,” Dance said. His voice didn’t have the orator’s tones of Metwater, but it carried well over the crowd. “A witness thought they saw her hitchhiking near here and we wondered if anyone here has seen her.” He consulted his phone’s screen. “She’s described as five feet six inches tall, with short black hair, olive skin and brown eyes. Her name is Lucia Raton.”
“We don’t know anything about this missing girl,” Metwater said. “Why would you assume we would?”
“She might have left her home intending to join your group,” Lance said. “Or if she was lost, she might have wandered to your camp looking for help.”
“These are the only people new to our camp,” Metwater said. “And as you can see, neither of them fit your description of this girl.”
Walt realized that Metwater was pointed to him and Hannah, and that everyone—including the two Rangers—had turned to look at them.
Lance frowned. “Hey, Walt,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter Six
Hannah tightened her grip on Walt’s hand. Nothing like having a cop call you out to arouse suspicion in a group of people you were lying to. Walt had tensed up and was all but glaring at the Ranger.
“I think these are the two who stopped me and gave me a ticket day before yesterday,” he said. His glower looked real enough to Hannah—he was probably furious at his coworkers for blowing his cover.
The taller of the two Rangers nudged his partner. “Should have figured his type would show up with this bunch,” he said.
Hannah saw the moment the first Ranger—his name badge said Carpenter—clicked to what was going on. He moved to stand in front of Walt. “Do you know anything about this missing woman?” he asked. “Maybe you gave her a ride on your bike?”
“I only have room for one woman on my bike,” Walt said, and pulled Hannah closer. “You remember my wife, Hannah, don’t you, Officer?”
If Carpenter was surprised to learn that Walt suddenly had a wife, his sunglasses helped hide his reaction. “She’s not the kind of woman a man forgets,” he said. He held up his cell phone, which showed a picture of a round-faced, dark-haired woman who couldn’t be very far out of her teens. “Have either of you seen this girl?”
Hannah shook her head.
“Why do you people automatically assume we’re responsible for anything that goes wrong?” Metwater moved in behind them. “We are a peaceful people and you’ve never found any evidence to contradict that, yet you continue to harass us.”
“In this case, Lucia’s parents found your blog bookmarked on her computer.” The taller officer, Dance, joined them. He focused on Metwater, avoiding looking at Hannah or Walt.
“That doesn’t make us guilty of anything,” Metwater said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Dance agreed. “But we’re talking about a missing woman. We have to check out every possible lead. We’re questioning a lot of people, and you’re one of them.”
“So, you don’t know anything about Lucia Raton?” Carpenter asked. “You haven’t seen her or heard from her?”
“No, I haven’t.” Metwater spread his arms wide. “Look around you, officer. The camp isn’t that large. It’s not as if someone could sneak in here without my knowing about it.”
“Do you get people stopping by often, wanting to join up?” Dance glanced at Hannah.
“Occasionally,” Metwater said. “My message touches people. They want to be a part of what I’m building here.”
“What exactly are you building?” Carpenter frowned at the haphazard collection of tents, shanties and trailers.
“A community of peace and cooperation.”
Were they really as peaceful as Metwater wanted everyone to believe? Hannah wondered. Metwater’s charisma could only go so far in controlling his followers. Did he use other methods to keep everyone in line—methods that had frightened Emily, and maybe even led to her death?
“Let us know if you hear or see anything that might help us find this woman,” Dance said. “Her family is very worried.”
Metwater inclined his head, like a king deigning to notice a subject. Dance and Carpenter left. Walt took Hannah’s hand. “Come on,” he said. “We’d better find a place to set up our tent.”
* * *
WALT HADN’T TAKEN a step when a strong hand gripped his shoulder. “What was that all about?” Metwater asked, his voice a low growl.
Walt played dumb. “What was what all about?”
“That officer recognized you. He greeted you by name.”
“He was just giving me a hard time, the way he did when he gave us that ticket. You know how those cops are.”
Metwater’s eyes narrowed. “I would have thought the Rangers had better things to do than to give out speeding tickets.”
“I guess he just wanted to hassle me—the way he did you.”
Metwater nodded, though the suspicion didn’t leave his eyes. “Tomorrow you can begin your training,” he said.
“Training?” Hannah didn’t look happy about this prospect.
“I will instruct you in preparation for you being accepted as full members of the Family,” Metwater said.
“Okay.” Walt hid his annoyance at the prospect. All he wanted was to find Hannah’s niece and leave. He couldn’t say if Metwater was guilty of breaking any laws, but Walt disliked pretty much everything about him, from his snake-oil salesman charm to his glib new age pontificating.
“It’s time to eat,” Metwater said. He took Hannah’s hand in his. “We’ll share a meal and gather by the fire. You can begin to learn our ways.”
Walt moved to Hannah’s side and took her other hand. Now that they were embedded with Metwater and his group, he realized he would need to add another job to his list of duties. In addition to locating Hannah’s niece and finding out more about her sister’s death, he would need to keep a close eye on his pretend wife, to keep her out of the Prophet’s clutches.
* * *
IT WAS AFTER ten before Walt and Hannah had the chance to break away from the group. Dinner had consisted of decent stew and bread. Afterward, everyone had gathered around a campfire to witness what Metwater explained was a spiritual dance but what looked to Walt like two scantily clad women performing for Metwater. The man himself stayed glued to Hannah’s side until the evening’s festivities ended. “You’re welcome to stay in my RV,” he told her as she and Walt prepared to leave. “You’ll be much more comfortable there.”
Walt bristled and was about to remind Metwater that Hannah was his wife and therefore her place was with him when she stepped between them. “Thank you,” she said, with a sweet smile for Metwater. “That’s so considerate of you, but I’ll be fine in the tent with Walt.” Then she took Walt’s hand and led him away.
“He’s got a lot of nerve,” Walt fumed. “Propositioning you with me standing right there.”
“It wasn’t exactly a proposition,” she said. “And there’s no need for you to go all caveman. I know how to look after myself.”
“Sorry.” He winced inwardly, realizing how the words he had almost said would have sounded to her. It wasn’t his place to tell her where she belonged—even if they had been truly married. “He just rubs me the wrong way.”
“He knows that and he uses it to his advantage.”
They retrieved the tent and two sleeping bags from the motorcycle. “We should set up away from everyone else,” Walt said. “Less chance of being overheard or spied on.”
“Do you think Metwater suspects something?” she asked.
“I think he’s the type who suspects everyone. I’m no expert on groups like this, but I’ve done a little reading. The best way for one man to control a group of diverse people is to have a team of enforcers whose job is to report back to the leader about what everyone else is up to. Those people get to make sure everyone else obeys all the rules and doesn’t get out of line.”
“Who are Metwater’s enforcers?” she asked.
“I met one guy who fits the bill,” Walt said. “A big, bearded man who goes by the name of Kiram. Apparently he’s been with Metwater a long time, and the others seem wary of him. There are probably one or two others.”<
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“What happens if someone breaks a rule?” she asked.
“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.” They had reached the edge of the camp, at a point farthest from Metwater’s RV, and farthest from the trail that led into the clearing. Walt shone his flashlight on a large, leaning juniper. “How about here, under this tree?” he asked. “We’d be out of the way and have some shade in the daytime.”
“Sure.” She unzipped the tent bag and pulled out the stiff bundle of green-and-black polyester. “Why did that officer, Carpenter, call you out this afternoon?” she asked. “He could have ruined everything.”
“Lance just got back from his honeymoon. And Michael was on assignment in another part of the state.” He began fitting the shock-corded tent poles together. “My guess is the missing persons call came in and they decided to check out the camp without checking in with headquarters, and no one had briefed them. It worked out okay, though. I think Metwater believed my story about the ticket.”
“What do you think this training is going to consist of?”
“I don’t know, but maybe we’ll get lucky and won’t have to endure it for long.” He laid aside the completed poles and looked at her. “What happened in the RV this afternoon after I was escorted out?” he asked.
She made a face. “He asked how we heard about him, why we wanted to join up—about what you’d expect.”
“Did he make a pass at you?”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“It’s just not a question I expected.”
“Well, did he? He was certainly leering at you enough.”
“No, he didn’t make a pass at me. Not exactly.”
“Did he or didn’t he?”
She shrugged. “He put his arm around me. He said he thought marriage was an outmoded concept.”
“He would just as soon get rid of me and have you stay to be one of his faithful female followers.”
