by Cindi Myers
“All right.” She slipped the knife into the pocket of her skirt, where it rested, heavy and awkward, a reminder of the danger they might be in here, but an even stronger reminder that Walt was looking out for her, even when he couldn’t be with her. The knowledge shook her—she had spent so many years alone. She was used to looking after herself, so what did it mean that knowing he was on her side felt so good? She looked toward the road, a faint pale strip in the light of a quarter moon. It would take Walt more than an hour to reach a good phone signal he could use to report his find—an hour traveling over rough, narrow roads in pitch-blackness. An unseen pothole, an animal running out in front of him—or one of Metwater’s men in pursuit—and he might never reach his destination at all.
“Be careful.” She took hold of his arm and leaned toward him, intending only to kiss his cheek. But he turned toward her and their lips met, and she realized this was what she had wanted all along—what she had wanted in that dark, intimate interlude in the tent. He brought one hand up to caress her cheek and she angled her mouth under his. He kissed the same way he did everything—with a quiet strength that moved her more than Metwater’s overt seduction ever could. The brush of his unshaven cheeks abrading her skin sent a shiver of arousal through her, and she leaned in closer, wanting to be nearer to him, wanting this moment to never end.
But at last he pulled away, though his hand remained on her shoulder, steadying her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. “Stay safe.”
“You, too.” Reluctantly, she stepped back, one hand to her mouth as if to preserve the memory of his kiss. She watched him as he walked away, pushing the motorcycle, until he was out of sight, disappearing into the darkness. Then she crossed the bridge back into camp.
She retraced the route they had followed back to the tent, seeing and hearing no one. The few lanterns that had previously been lit were out now, plunging the compound into silent blackness. Hannah felt her way from tree to tree, wishing she had thought to bring a flashlight with her. She let out a sigh of relief when she spotted the tent, by itself on the edge of the camp.
She had almost reached the safety of that shelter when someone clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her back against him. She kicked out and tried to struggle free, but the unseen man held her fast. “Where is your husband now?” a voice growled in her ear. “And why isn’t he here to protect you?”
Chapter Nine
Walt estimated he had walked the heavy motorcycle the better part of a mile before he dared climb on and start the engine. It roared to life, echoing in the midnight stillness. If anyone in camp heard him and figured out what was going on, he would be long gone before they could come after him.
He raced the bike as fast as he dared over the rough washboard road, barely maintaining control of the big machine as it bounced over the rugged dirt track. His headlight seemed to scarcely penetrate the inky blackness, illuminating only a few yards in front of him. More than once eyes glowed from the brush alongside the road—coyotes or foxes or other wild creatures observing his passing.
He tried not to think of what might happen to Hannah while he was away. Instead, he focused on the memory of that goodbye kiss. Working with her on this undercover op, he had grown close to her in a very short period of time. Even though they weren’t married, at times he felt that close connection to her—or at least, what he hoped the connection between a husband and wife should feel like.
The kind of connection he had wanted with his former girlfriend, but had clearly never had. Looking back, he remembered how stunned he had been when he learned she was seeing his brother. But he saw, too, how part of him wasn’t surprised she had betrayed him. Wanting someone to love you deeply wasn’t the same as having that love be a reality. It was a lesson he had had to learn the hard way.
So why was he even thinking about love and Hannah in the same breath? As beautiful as she was, and as close as he felt to her at times, she was here to find her niece. She wanted to return to her home in Texas and start a new life with the baby—nowhere in that plan did he see room for a backcountry cop. He was doing it again—wishing for a relationship that couldn’t exist.
It was almost two in the morning when he finally reached the paved highway that led toward Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park and Ranger Brigade headquarters. He raced the bike over the blacktop to the headquarters building and let himself in with his key, then dialed the commander’s number on the office line, more reliable than cell service out here.
Ranger Brigade commander Graham Ellison didn’t sound groggy when he answered the phone. “Ellison. What’s up?”
“It’s Walt Riley, sir. There’s been a development near Metwater’s compound that you need to be aware of.” He explained about the grave and its approximate location, as well as Metwater’s stricture against reporting it. “I took a chance, sneaking out of camp,” Walt said. “I need to get back as soon as possible.”
“Wait there at headquarters. I’ll have someone there in half an hour or less. We need you to show us the area on a map and fill in some details.”
“Yes, sir.” He hung up the phone and settled in to wait.
* * *
KIRAM WRENCHED HANNAH’S arm behind her back, hurting her. “I’m going to uncover your mouth,” he said. “But if you cry out, I’ll break your arm.”
She nodded to show she understood and he removed his hand. “Let me go,” she said.
“Where is your husband?” he asked.
“He’s asleep in the tent.”
“I was just there. He isn’t there.”
“Maybe he got up to go to the bathroom.” She began to struggle again, frantic over what he might do to her if she didn’t get away. He started pulling her toward the parking lot—toward the deserted road and the empty wilderness, away from the rest of the camp, where there were people who might help her. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Where are you taking me?”
“I warned your husband what would happen if he disobeyed the Prophet’s orders.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let me go. Help!”
The savage jerk he gave her didn’t break her arm, but it hurt enough that she gasped in pain. “You’re making a mistake,” she said. “Let’s go to the Prophet now. I’ll prove to you that you’re making a mistake.” She had no idea what she would say to Metwater, but demanding to see him would at least get her back to the camp, where surely someone would help her.
Kiram stopped. “You want to see the Prophet?”
“Yes. He’s the leader of this camp. If he thinks I need to be punished, I want to hear it from him.”
“Fine. We’ll go to him.” He turned and headed back toward camp, still gripping her arm. She had to run to keep from being dragged. The clearing in the midst of the tents and trailers was empty and silent, the only light from the dying coals of the bonfire they had gathered around earlier. Metwater’s motor home was dark and silent also.
Hannah slowed her steps as they neared the RV. “The Prophet won’t like being awakened,” she said.
“You should have thought of that before your husband disobeyed him.” One hand gripping her arm, he raised the other hand to knock on the door of the motor home.
Hannah didn’t wait for someone to answer Kiram’s knock. She had no intention of going into that RV with him—not in the middle of the night, with no witnesses around to notice if the two men decided to make her disappear altogether. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt and gripped the knife Walt had given her. As her fingers closed around the blade, she summoned all her courage. She was doing this for Joy, she told herself. For Emily.
She jabbed the knife hard into Kiram’s shoulder. He yelped and released her, and she ran to the far side of the dying bonfire. Snatching a smoldering branch from the fire, she brandished it in one hand, the knife in
the other. Then she began to scream. “Help! Someone help me, please! Kiram attacked me! Help!”
As she had hoped, heads poked out of the tents and trailers surrounding the area. Kiram clutched his shoulder, blood trickling between his fingers. “She stabbed me!” he roared, and started toward her, his face a mask of rage.
“Only because he attacked me first. Look at the bruises on my arm if you don’t believe me.”
No one moved to help her, but none of them went back inside, either. Kiram glared at her. The light outside the motor home went on and the door opened to reveal Daniel Metwater, clad only in pajama pants, scowling at them. “What is going on?” he asked.
“The new man, Walt, left tonight,” Kiram said. “I’m sure he went to the police.”
“Of course he went to the police,” Hannah said. “There’s a fresh grave out there, not far from camp, and the police are looking for a missing woman. Her family is probably beside themselves, trying to find her.”
“We don’t have anything to do with that,” Metwater said.
“Trying to hide it makes you look like you do.” Hannah slipped the knife into her pocket but kept hold of the smoldering branch. “And the fact that Walt went to tell someone about the grave doesn’t give Kiram any right to attack me.”
Metwater turned to Kiram. “Did you attack her?”
“I warned her husband if he disobeyed your orders and left the camp, they would have to be disciplined.” He lifted his hand from his shoulder. “And she stabbed me.”
“When a man puts his hands on a woman against her will, she has a right to defend herself,” Hannah said.
Murmurs of agreement rose from the crowd of onlookers. Metwater held up a hand. “Part of being a member of the Family is agreeing to abide by my rules,” he said.
“One of your rules is that women are to be treated with respect.”
Hannah turned to see who had spoken. Phoenix stepped into the circle of light from a lantern that hung outside her tent. She cradled the baby in her arms. “If Kiram attacked Serenity in the darkness, when her husband wasn’t there to defend her, that isn’t treating her with respect.”
“What about respect for me and my role of carrying out the Prophet’s will?” Kiram growled the words. At that moment, he reminded Hannah of a wounded bear.
Everyone was focused on Metwater, as if he really was some king or Old Testament prophet who had authority to rule their lives. Hannah realized she was holding her breath in anticipation, as if she believed he had power over her, as well. Had Emily stood before him like this, waiting while he decided her fate?
Of course, all she had to do was declare she had had enough of this nonsense and walk away. But doing so would end her best chance of finding out what had happened to Emily and her baby. She shifted her gaze to where Phoenix stood, cradling the child. That baby might be Joy. Hannah couldn’t walk away until she knew for sure.
“Tomorrow, after Serenity’s husband has returned, we will hold a council,” Metwater declared. “At that time, we will decide the appropriate response to their willful and disobedient behavior.” He fixed his gaze on Hannah. A shiver crept up her spine. Did no one else see the malevolence in those dark eyes? “Until tomorrow, I put you in Phoenix’s care. She will watch over you.”
“I don’t need a guard,” Hannah said.
Metwater’s smile held no warmth. “But clearly, you do.”
Phoenix crossed the clearing to Hannah’s side. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll fix a comfortable place for you in my trailer.” She leaned closer, her voice so soft Hannah scarcely heard her words, and she was sure no one else could. “You’ll be safer with me than alone in your tent—just in case Kiram gets any ideas.”
Hannah glanced at Kiram, who was still glowering at her. Her aching arm reminded her of how easily he could overpower her. She nodded. “Thanks,” she said. She wouldn’t think of this time as imprisonment. She would use the opportunity to get to know Phoenix and her baby better. Maybe this would be the key to learning the truth she needed to know.
* * *
MEMBERS OF THE Ranger team started showing up at headquarters within half an hour of Walt’s call—Lance Carpenter arrived first, followed by Michael Dance, Ethan Reynolds and the commander. Walt had made coffee and they helped themselves to mugs before settling down to consider the case. “Sorry for almost blowing your cover out there yesterday,” Lance said as he settled at the conference table across from Walt. “We should have checked in with the commander before we headed out there.”
“It worked out okay,” Walt said. “Now Metwater and the rest think I’m as disgruntled with the cops as they are.”
“Tell us more about this grave you found,” Commander Ellison said, settling into the chair at the head of the table.
“It looks fairly recent, though I’m no expert,” Walt said. “It was in a small clearing, not visible until you were right up on it, about a mile from camp, at least that far from any road.”
“And you’re sure it was a grave?” Michael asked.
“It was an oblong mound of earth, maybe two feet wide and four feet long, with a homemade wooden cross at one end. No writing on the cross. No footprints on the surrounding ground. The dirt had dried out and settled a little, but no vegetation was growing on it, and the sawed ends of the cross were fresh, not weathered.” He sat back in his chair. “And Metwater was very annoyed when I told him I intended to report it.”
“What was his argument against doing so?” Ethan asked.
“It would bring law enforcement into camp again.”
“What is he afraid we’re going to find?” Lance asked. “He sounds like a man with something to hide.”
“Do you think he knows anything about the missing woman—Lucia Raton?” Graham asked.
“Hannah spoke to some Family members who said she came around wanting to join the group,” Walt said. “Metwater supposedly sent her away because she was too young.”
“And they didn’t bother to mention this to us,” Michael said. “I think this warrants questioning him again. Maybe we should bring him in.”
“Let’s see what we find in the grave first.” Graham sat back in his chair. “We’ll get a team out there at first light, though we’ll have to wait for a forensic anthropologist to excavate it properly. That could take a while, depending on where he or she has to come from. If it’s Denver or Salt Lake, it could mean an extra day’s wait.”
“You should at least get someone out there to guard the site,” Walt said. “Now that Metwater knows I know about this, if he is involved somehow, he may try to destroy evidence.”
“We’ll do that,” Graham said. “What else have you learned?”
“Metwater preaches a message of peace and love, but he’s set a lot of rules for his followers. He’s got at least one guy, calls himself Kiram, whose job is to enforce the rules. He threatened me—and Hannah—if I came to you.”
“Threatened you with what?” Lance asked.
“Nothing specific. I told Hannah I’d feel better if she came with me tonight,” Walt said. “I gave her the opportunity to call off the operation altogether, but she wanted to stay and see it through.”
“Any news about her sister or the baby?” Ethan asked.
“Everyone denies knowing anything about the sister, but I think they’re lying,” Walt said. “There’s a woman in camp who has a little girl the right age to be Hannah’s niece, but we don’t have any proof she isn’t the woman’s child. Hannah thinks if she makes friends with the woman, who goes by Phoenix, she can find out more.”
“We’ll give it another day or two, but if either of you feel at any time that you’re in danger, get out of there,” Graham said. “If this bunch really is responsible for Lucia Raton’s death, we don’t want to give them a chance to add to the body count.”
“Before I forget, we managed to get hold of Marsha Caldwell.” Marco leaned back to snag a notebook off a desk. “The nurse who witnessed Emily Dietrich’s will.”
“What did she say?” Walt asked, tensed on the edge of his chair.
“She remembered Emily—described her as a sweet young woman with a beautiful baby. Caldwell said Emily didn’t strike her as particularly fearful. She came to the hospital with another woman—the Anna Ingels who also witnessed the will. She thought Ingels was a friend or maybe an older relative.”
“Did you get a description of Ingels?” Walt asked.
Marco consulted his notes. “Nothing really useful. Medium height, late thirties, blond hair and light eyes.”
That description could fit a few of the women in camp, but it wasn’t specific enough to zero in on anyone. “How could she say Emily wasn’t fearful when she wanted Caldwell to witness a will?”
“She said it wasn’t the first will she had witnessed,” Marco said. “Apparently, labor and delivery is traumatic for some women. She said it makes them aware of their own mortality. Add in the responsibility for a new life, and a will outlining who should care for the baby in the event of the mother’s death is a sensible response.”
“So she didn’t think Emily was afraid someone was going to kill her?” Walt asked.
“She didn’t think so, no.”
Was Hannah wrong, then? Had her sister died of an unfortunate bout of ill health, and Metwater had nothing to do with it? So why was he trying to hide the child—assuming Phoenix’s baby really was Hannah’s niece, as she asserted? He shoved back his chair. “I had better get back to camp,” he said. “Even though I don’t think Kiram would be foolish enough to try anything, I don’t like leaving Hannah there too long.”
