by Cindi Myers
“Maybe,” Walt said. “Have you noticed any signs that she’s using now?”
“No. I don’t think she is. She says Daniel Metwater saved her life—do you think she means he helped her get off drugs?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked back toward the camp. “I don’t like it here, and I can’t shake the feeling there’s a lot going on we don’t know about. But maybe it’s also possible that Metwater is doing some good, at least for some people.”
“I guess no one is all good or all bad, but I still don’t trust him.”
“When can we leave and take Joy with us?”
“Soon,” he said. “When the Rangers get here, I’m going to request a court order for us to take the baby into temporary custody, until a DNA test confirms her identity.”
“Will they be able to get it?”
“I think so. In the meantime, I’d rather stay here to make sure they don’t try to leave with her.”
“I won’t let them take her away,” Hannah said. “When will you hear from the Rangers again?”
“They can’t open up the grave until a forensic anthropologist can be on site. That might take a day or two. They’ll want to see what’s in there before they question anyone in the camp.”
“In the meantime, we’ve got this council tonight,” she said. “What do you think they’ll do?”
“I think they’ll make a lot of noise and try to scare us,” he said. “Just remember they don’t have any authority over us.”
“That doesn’t mean they won’t try to hurt us—that they didn’t hurt Emily, or Lucia.”
“Serenity!” Phoenix raced up to them, her face flushed and out of breath. “There you are,” she said, gasping. “I thought you had run away.”
“I had to see Walt,” Hannah said.
Phoenix glanced at him, then took both Hannah’s hands in hers. “You shouldn’t keep breaking the rules,” the older woman said. “It will only go against you at council tonight.”
Hannah pulled her hands free. “I won’t blindly obey arbitrary rules that don’t make sense,” she said.
“Without rules, there’s only chaos,” Phoenix said.
“But rules have to have a larger purpose than merely controlling people,” Walt said.
Phoenix shook her head and grabbed Hannah’s hands again. “Please come back with me,” she said. “Or I could get into trouble.”
This time, Hannah didn’t pull away. “All right,” she said. “But Walt has to come with me.”
“Where’s Kiram?” Phoenix asked. She looked around as if she expected the bearded young man to pop out from behind a tree.
“The Prophet and I talked and he agreed I didn’t need a babysitter.” Walt put his arm around Hannah again. “Hannah and I can stay with you this afternoon,” he said. “And we’ll try to keep out of trouble.”
“Tell me another one,” Phoenix said. “Men like you have trouble written all over them.”
She turned and started walking away. Walt and Hannah followed. Hannah leaned in close. “She’s right,” she whispered. “You do look like a man who wouldn’t shy away from trouble.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” he asked.
“Oh, not at all.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m beginning to think it’s a very good thing.”
* * *
THEY RETURNED TO Phoenix’s trailer, where Sophie sat at the small table, surrounded by books, and Vicki played on a quilt on the floor. Hannah moved past Phoenix to scoop the baby up from the floor. “This is Vicki,” she said, turning to Walt.
“Hey there, cutie.” A huge grin split his face and before she could protest, he was lifting the baby from her arms and cradling her against him. Vicki stared up at him in wonder, then reached up one chubby hand to pat his cheek. “What do you think, little one?” he asked. “Do I look like trouble to you?”
Hannah’s stomach quivered and her knees felt unsteady. The sight of this tough, rugged man being so tender with the baby stirred her emotions. Walt was trouble all right—a big disruption to the smooth path she had laid out for herself. She needed to focus on getting Joy safely home and building a stable life for the two of them. She didn’t see how she could do that without Walt’s help. But it had been so easy to move from wanting his help to wanting more.
“What are you studying?” Walt asked. Still cradling Vicki, he had moved over to the table and was looking down on the books scattered around Sophie.
“It’s my homeschool correspondence course,” she said. “It’s supposed to be Introduction to Algebra, but I’m all confused.”
“Maybe I can help.” He leaned over her. “What are you having problems with?”
“You definitely need to have children soon.” Phoenix moved to Hannah’s side. “He’s great with them.”
“Yeah, he is.” Judging from Sophie’s smiles, his explanation of algebra was helping her, and Vicki seemed more than content to gaze up at him and gnaw on his thumb.
“Tell me about Vicki’s mother,” Hannah said, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake asking the question.
Phoenix stiffened. “I’m Victory’s mother.”
Hannah squeezed the other woman’s hand. “You’ve done a wonderful job of caring for her, but I heard her birth mother was a young woman who called herself Freedom.”
“Who told you that?” Phoenix looked toward the table, where Walt now sat beside Sophie.
“In a camp this small, there are no secrets,” Hannah said. “Someone told me that when we first came here. What can you tell me about Freedom?”
“She was a troubled young woman who was looking for peace,” Phoenix said. “She hoped to find it here, but she had a hard time obeying the rules.” She sighed. “She was a lot like you in that respect—always wanting reasons, not willing to simply be and accept.”
“You really think she was like me?” Hannah had focused so long on the differences between her and her sister that she hadn’t considered all the ways they might be alike.
“She wasn’t as lucky as you in love.” Phoenix’s gaze shifted to Walt. “She said the man she had been engaged to marry was killed. She needed the love of a family to surround her and her baby, and she hoped to find that here.”
“What about her own family?” Hannah’s voice was strained from the tears she was fighting to hold back.
“She never talked about them. Sometimes it’s easier to turn to strangers than to family—families know all your mistakes, and that can make them harder to put behind you.”
And you know all your family’s mistakes, which can be harder to forgive, Hannah thought. She recalled the last argument she had had with Emily, before her sister left to join Metwater’s group.
She pushed the painful memory away. “What happened to Freedom?” she asked.
“She left us. It was for the best, since she wasn’t happy here.”
“But how could she leave her baby behind?” Hannah asked.
“I don’t know,” Phoenix said. “It struck me as out of character, but when people are desperately unhappy, they don’t always act like themselves.”
“Mind if I join you?” Walt returned to the living area.
“We were just talking about Freedom,” Hannah said.
Phoenix frowned. “You told him?” she asked Hannah.
“He’s my husband. Of course I told him.” How easily the lie flowed off her lips. The longer she was with Walt, the easier it was to imagine him as her partner—which was crazy, considering how little time she had known him. Being thrown together like this, with the underlying current of danger, was obviously getting to her.
“What happened the day Freedom left?” Walt asked.
“She went with the Prophet to Denver,” Phoenix said. “He was speaking there and he asked her t
o go along. He wanted to spend more time with her, to try to persuade her to stay with the Family.”
“I thought he had told her she should leave,” Hannah said. “That he was punishing her for wanting to run away.”
Phoenix nibbled her thumbnail. “Well, yes, he had told her that, but he wanted to give her one more chance. He thought the trip to Denver, just the two of them, would help him persuade her to stay.”
“She didn’t take the baby with her?” Hannah asked.
“No. She left Victory with me.” She took the child from Walt, who didn’t protest. “I’ve taken care of her practically since she was born.”
“Did the Prophet say what happened while they were in Denver?” Walt asked.
Phoenix smoothed the baby’s curls. “He said Freedom decided to stay in the city and he came back without her.”
“That didn’t strike you as odd?” Walt asked. “That she didn’t come back for her baby?”
“I thought she would, at first,” Phoenix said. “But then...” She shrugged. “The Prophet said her mind was made up and he wasn’t able to stop her from leaving. He doesn’t keep people here against their will.”
“So he would have been fine if she had taken Vicki with her when she left?” Hannah asked.
Phoenix stood. “I think the baby needs changing,” she said, and disappeared into the back room before they could protest.
“Mom says the Prophet would have changed his mind about making Freedom leave her baby behind if she had come back for Victory.” Sophie looked up from her books. “She refuses to believe he would ever do anything cruel.”
“What do you think?” Walt turned to look at the girl.
She shrugged and doodled in the corner of her notebook. “I think people do cruel things all the time. Why should he be different?”
A knock on the door interrupted them. Hannah looked toward the back of the trailer, but Phoenix didn’t emerge. The knocking persisted.
“I’ll get it,” Sophie said, but Walt got to the door before her.
He opened it and Agent Marco Cruz moved past him into the room. “I’m looking for a woman named Phoenix,” he said. “We have questions for her related to the disappearance of Lucia Raton.”
Chapter Twelve
Walt bit the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out the questions Marco’s announcement brought to mind. Of all the suspects Walt might have singled out as having something to do with Lucia’s disappearance, Phoenix wouldn’t have even made the list.
At Marco’s words Phoenix emerged from the back bedroom, her face even paler than usual. She took one look at the officers, then thrust the baby into Hannah’s arms and bolted for the door, but Michael Dance stepped in behind Marco and caught her. “Calm down, ma’am,” he said, leading her back to the sofa. “We just need to ask you some questions.”
“What is this about?” Sophie had moved from her place at the table and stood behind the two officers, eyes wide with fear.
“Hannah, maybe you should take Sophie and the baby and wait for Phoenix outside,” Walt said.
“No.” Hannah cradled the infant to her shoulder and beckoned Sophie to her side. “I won’t leave Phoenix alone with three strange men.” She glared at Walt, as if she blamed him for this turn of events. “Can’t you see she’s terrified?”
“Why don’t we all sit down?” Marco moved farther into the room, while Michael stayed by the door. Phoenix wrapped her arms across her stomach, as if trying to make herself as small as possible. “Ma’am, do you want your friends to leave?” Marco asked.
Phoenix raised her head to look at Hannah. “I want Hannah to stay,” she said.
“If Hannah stays, so do I.” Walt crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’ll take the baby,” Sophie said. She reached for the infant and Hannah surrendered her. Then Sophie turned and fled from the trailer, shoving past Michael and slamming the door behind her.
Marco brought a chair from the table and set it in front of the sofa where Phoenix and Hannah now sat next to each other.
“What is this about?” Hannah asked. “Are you charging her with some crime?”
Walt frowned at her and shook his head. She needed to be quiet and let the Rangers do their job. But she looked away from him.
“Ma’am, before we start, I need to know your real name,” Marco said.
“My name is Phoenix.”
“That isn’t the name you were born with,” Marco said.
She glared at him. “Phoenix is my name.”
Marco consulted his phone. “But weren’t you born Anna Ingels?”
Hannah gasped. Walt recognized the name, too—Anna Ingels was the other witness on Emily Dietrich’s will.
“Anna is dead,” Phoenix said. “I left her behind when I came here.”
Marco took something from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “Isn’t this your driver’s license?” he asked. “The picture is yours and the name is Anna Ingels.”
Walt leaned over to peer at the picture, which did indeed look like Phoenix. It was a Colorado license, showing an address in Denver, with an expiration date two years from now.
Phoenix clutched the license. “Where did you get this?” she asked.
“Our forensics team found it, along with some other items belonging to you, in a grave in the woods not far from here,” Marco said.
Walt sent his fellow agent a sharp look. What else did you find in that grave? he wanted to ask, but knew he would have to wait for the answer.
Phoenix bowed her head. Hannah put her arm around the older woman and rubbed her shoulder.
“Why don’t you tell us how your license ended up in that grave?” Marco said, his tone gentle.
“I buried the license, along with some clothes and books and other things,” Phoenix said. “Anna’s things. Part of my old life. I have a new life now. I’m a new person. I didn’t need those reminders of what I used to be.”
“What did you used to be?” Marco asked.
She raised her head to meet his gaze, her face a picture of misery. “I’m not that person anymore. The Prophet saved me. He changed me. I don’t have to think about that life anymore,” she said.
“We ran your license,” Marco said. “You have a criminal record for possession of heroin and prostitution.”
That explained the tracks on her arm, Walt thought. And maybe why she had lost custody of Sophie temporarily.
“That was Anna. It wasn’t me. I’m not like that anymore.”
“There’s no crime in starting over,” Hannah said. “And no crime in burying some old clothes and papers.”
Marco ignored her and leaned toward Phoenix. “When did you bury those things?” he asked.
“A couple of weeks ago,” she said. “The Prophet had a vision that we should divest ourselves of anything from the past that was holding us back. Some people burned items, or boxed them up and mailed them to their families. I held a funeral to say goodbye to my old self, and buried everything that belonged to Anna.” She smiled and the light returned to her eyes. “It was wonderful—like being reborn. I truly was a Phoenix, rising from the ashes of my former self.”
“Tell us about Lucia Raton,” Marco said. “When did she come to the camp?”
Phoenix sighed. “The Prophet said we shouldn’t talk about Lucia. Especially not to the police.”
“Lucia is missing,” Marco said. “She could be dead. I need you to tell me about her. When was she in camp?”
The lines on Phoenix’s forehead deepened. “I don’t know. We don’t keep track of time here.” She looked around the trailer. “I don’t even have a calendar.”
“Guess. How long ago was she here?”
She considered the question a moment longer. The sound of someone laughing some
where outside drifted through the open window, along with hammering—ordinary sounds of life in the camp in sharp contrast to the surreal atmosphere inside the trailer. “I buried Anna’s things when the moon was full,” she said. “Lucia was here a few days after that—maybe a week.”
Marco typed the information into his phone. “How long was she here?” he asked.
“Only a day. Less than that, really. She didn’t spend the night.”
“You’re sure about that?” Marco asked.
“I’m sure. The Prophet told her she had to leave because she was underage. She was only seventeen.” Her expression grew troubled. “I hope she’s okay. She seemed like a sweet girl—a little defiant and confused, but that’s part of what being a teenager is about, isn’t it?”
“Did you spend a lot of time with her while she was here?” Marco asked.
“No. She came around and introduced herself to me and some other women who were preparing dinner, but we didn’t really talk.”
Marco took something from his shirt pocket and held it out to her. It was a plastic evidence bag that contained a necklace—a locket on a blackened silver chain. “Do you recognize this?” he asked.
Phoenix shook her head. “It doesn’t look familiar.”
Marco pressed a catch on the side of the locket and it opened to reveal a photograph of a man and woman. “Who is that?” Phoenix asked.
“Read the inscription,” Marco said.
She leaned closer and read. “‘To Lucia. We love you. Mami and Papi.’”
“So the locket belongs to Lucia Raton?” Hannah asked.
“Her parents described it when they listed the things she was wearing the last time they saw her.” Marco returned the evidence bag to his pocket. “Are you sure you don’t remember it?”
Phoenix shook her head. “No. I only saw her for a few minutes.”
“Was she with anyone else when she came here?” Michael Dance spoke for the first time from his position by the door. “Was there anyone she hung out with while she was here?”
“Not really.” Walt sensed her hesitation; Marco must have, too.
