by Cindi Myers
“Surely the Prophet won’t be upset about me talking with my husband,” Hannah said.
“Sometimes when two people talk together a lot, away from the group, it can look like they’re plotting,” Phoenix said. “It sets a bad example.”
“Is that one of the lessons the Prophet teaches?” Walt asked.
Phoenix glanced at him. “The Prophet teaches many lessons,” she said. “Some of them have saved my life.” She took Hannah’s hand and laced her fingers with the younger woman’s. “Let’s go. You said before you enjoy working with children. You can help me with that job this morning.”
She started to lead Hannah away. “What about me?” Walt called. “What am I supposed to do until the council this evening?”
Phoenix looked over her shoulder at him. “Someone else has been assigned to watch over you,” she said, then ducked her head and hurried away.
Walt heard heavy footsteps behind him. He tensed, prepared to defend himself if necessary. The new arrival said nothing.
“Kiram, I’ve got a score to settle with you,” Walt said, turning around.
“If I ever catch you away from camp, believe me, we’ll settle that score,” Kiram said. “For now, you’re to come with me.”
“What if I refuse?” Walt asked.
“I’d be fine with you leaving camp right this minute,” Kiram said. “But the Prophet wants to see you. He has a proposal for you—one you ought to listen to.”
“The Prophet wants something from me?” Walt asked. That was a new twist. “What is it?”
“Come with me and find out. I’m hoping he wants me to take you out and beat you to a pulp, but then, I seldom get so lucky.”
Chapter Eleven
“Where is Kiram taking Walt?” Hannah tried to pull away from Phoenix when she saw Kiram lead Walt away.
“Your husband will be all right.” Phoenix was stronger than she looked and almost yanked Hannah off her feet. “You’ll see him tonight, after the council. In the meantime, you can help me with the children. That’s our job for the day.”
“This isn’t right,” Hannah said, reluctantly falling into step beside Phoenix. “We shouldn’t be separated like this.”
“It’s for your own good,” Phoenix said. “After all, you have to think for yourself, even though you’re married. And remember—whatever punishment the Prophet decides for you, it will make you a better person in the end.”
“Have you ever been punished by the Prophet?” Hannah asked.
“When I first came here, yes. But I needed to learn an important lesson, and I was grateful for it later.”
“What did you do that you needed to be punished for?” Hannah asked. The older woman looked so serene and devoted to Metwater. Hannah couldn’t imagine she had ever done anything to displease him.
“That is all in the past and we don’t talk about the past,” she said. “Come, let’s get the children. You’ll feel better when you’re with them.”
Sophie was waiting with the other children, and a duffel bag filled with balls and stuffed animals and other toys. While Sophie and her mother organized the children into play groups, Hannah took charge of Vicki. She was an easygoing baby, seldom fussy, happy to be held and admired.
“You’re so good with her,” Phoenix said, coming to sit at the picnic table beside Hannah. “Do you have children?”
Hannah couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped her. “Wh-why would you ask that?” she stammered. “If I had children, they’d be here with me.”
“Not necessarily. They might be with their father, or a grandparent. Not every child lives with her mother. Sometimes that isn’t even the best thing.”
Hannah clutched the baby more tightly. “No, I don’t have any children.” It wasn’t a lie. Not really.
“Sophie lived with my parents for a while,” she said, her expression calm as she watched her daughter. “I wasn’t able to take care of her, so I signed over custody to them. One of the best things about coming here is that she’s able to be with me again.”
Were Phoenix’s parents really happy that she was living in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, following a self-proclaimed prophet? Hannah wondered. Then again, maybe Phoenix’s folks were in poor health, or simply tired of taking care of the child. It wasn’t Hannah’s place to judge. “She seems very happy here,” she said.
“She doesn’t like the Prophet, but I hope in time she’ll understand his wisdom.”
“Do you really think he’s wise?” Hannah asked.
She smiled serenely. Or was her serenity merely a kind of naïveté? “The Prophet saved my life. I owe him everything. Apollo, what is that in your mouth? We don’t eat bugs.” She jumped up and hurried to persuade the little boy to spit out his find. Hannah cradled the baby and studied the other woman. Surely she didn’t mean that Daniel Metwater had literally saved her—rescuing her from drowning or pulling her from a burning car? Following the Prophet had clearly sent Phoenix’s life in another direction—away from a bad situation or wrong choices?
Phoenix returned. “How long have you and your husband been married?” she asked.
“Not long. A few months.” Hannah hoped her response sounded natural. She wasn’t used to lying, though she agreed that in this case, it was necessary.
“I thought about marriage a couple of times, but it never happened,” Phoenix said. “Just as well, since I never stayed with any man very long.” She laughed. “Good thing, or I wouldn’t have met the Prophet.”
“Are you and he, well, lovers?” Hadn’t Phoenix hinted as much, when she said Metwater was the baby’s father? Or had she said that because she believed Emily and Metwater had been a couple?
Phoenix’s smile struck Hannah as a little smug. “I’ve enjoyed the Prophet’s attentions from time to time,” she said. “He tries to spend special time with each of his female followers—it’s really a privilege.” She patted Hannah’s arm. “I’m sure your turn will come.”
Hannah shuddered. She had no intention of enjoying any such “attention” from Metwater. “I doubt my husband would appreciate that.”
“Oh, he’ll come around in time. After all, marriage is such an outmoded concept.”
Hannah recognized Metwater’s words. “I think two people pledging to love each other and care for each other for the rest of their lives is timeless,” she said. “An ideal that never goes out of style.”
Phoenix wrinkled her nose. “But how many people actually live up to that ideal?”
“A lot whom I know,” Hannah said.
“And no one I know.”
Before Hannah could come up with a suitable answer, the baby began fussing. Hannah shifted and tried to comfort the infant, but her fussing soon grew to wails. “Let me take her.” Phoenix reached for the baby. “Maybe she needs changing.”
As she took the child, one sleeve of her loose peasant blouse pushed up, revealing several lines of thin, dark scars on her forearms. “What happened to your arm?” Hannah asked.
Phoenix flushed and quickly yanked the sleeve down and cradled the child. “It’s nothing. I’ll go get a fresh diaper,” she said, already heading toward the trailer. “You watch the children.”
A chill swept through Hannah, as if someone had opened a door that should have been left closed. She wished she was home, with Joy safe and the future not so uncertain. There were too many secrets in this particular family.
* * *
“I WANT TO know what you told the police.”
Daniel Metwater didn’t waste any time getting to the point when he hauled Walt in front of him. At least the Prophet was fully dressed today, in faded jeans and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He sat in an upholstered chair in the living room of the RV like a man on a throne. Walt still thought he looked out of place here in
the backcountry—like the kind of man who, instead of taking a five-mile hike to see the sights, would order a flunky to take the hike for him and report back.
“Why do you want to know?” Walt asked.
“Lose the attitude,” Kiram said, and punched Walt in the shoulder.
Walt turned on him. “Hit me again and you’ll be sorry,” he said. “You can’t shove me around the way you did my wife.”
“Leave us, Kiram,” Metwater said.
Kiram’s face reddened and he worked his mouth as if trying to come up with a response. But when Metwater fixed him with a stare, the bearded man bowed his head and stormed out. Walt waited until the door closed behind him before he spoke. “Hannah has bruises on her arms where Kiram roughed her up last night,” he said. “I’m not going to stand for that.” He had every intention of filing assault charges against Kiram, though he hadn’t discussed it with Hannah yet.
“Kiram can be a little intense in his zeal to protect the Family—and to protect me,” Metwater said.
“He’s a bully. If you don’t rein him in, I will.”
“I can take care of Kiram.”
“Keep him away from me—and away from Hannah.”
Metwater hesitated. Walt was sure he was going to say something about Walt needing a minder until tonight’s council meeting, but after a tense few seconds, he relented. “I’ll tell him to stay away.”
“See that he does.”
“I didn’t bring you here to talk about Kiram. I want to know what you told the police.”
“I told them the truth,” Walt said. “That I was out looking for firewood and found what appeared to be a fairly fresh grave. They agreed it was worth checking out, especially with a young woman missing.”
“No one in this camp had anything to do with that unfortunate young woman’s disappearance,” Metwater said.
“I’ve learned she was here in the camp, yet you lied when the Rangers asked if you had seen her before.”
“Who told you that?” Metwater demanded.
Walt leaned against the wall that separated the RV’s living area from the rest of the space, arms crossed in a deliberately casual, some might have said disrespectful, pose. “Why does it matter if it’s true?” he countered.
“Because of you, officers will be disrupting our lives with their questions,” Metwater said.
“No. They’ll be doing that because you lied to them and tried to conceal what could be evidence of a crime. Guilty people behave that way.”
“Or people who value their privacy,” Metwater said.
“Sometimes it’s the same thing.” Walt had to force himself not to smirk. He was enjoying this too much.
“When the Rangers arrive, I want you to talk to them,” Metwater said.
Walt hadn’t seen this coming. “Why me?”
“Since you’re the one who went to them, they’ll be more likely to trust you. Tell them we had nothing to do with the grave you found or the woman who disappeared.”
Walt straightened. “You tell them. I’m not your official spokesperson.”
“I have more important things to do than waste time talking with the police,” Metwater said.
“Such as?” Walt looked around the trailer. “Writing blog posts and preaching sermons can’t take that much of your time.”
Metwater stood and moved closer to Walt. They were about the same height, and had no trouble looking each other in the eye. “Why did you come here?” Metwater asked. “I don’t believe it was because you want to be one of us. You have no respect for our way of life.”
Sticking to his cover required Walt to lie and pretend to be a fan of Metwater and his philosophy, but after the better part of two days in camp, he didn’t have the stomach for it. As long as he didn’t reveal he was a law enforcement officer, sticking closer to the truth should be safe. And it might even nudge Metwater into revealing something useful. “I came here looking for a friend,” he said. “She disappeared a while back and her family is worried about her.”
Metwater lifted one eyebrow. “Lucia Raton is a friend of yours?”
“Not her. I’m looking for Emily Dietrich.”
“Your wife’s friend from school.” Metwater nodded. “You think she was one of my followers?”
“She was pregnant. Her fiancé was killed and she became one of your followers. She was living with your followers the last time her sister heard from her.”
“Her sister, your wife.”
Walt didn’t let himself react. “Why do you say that?” he asked.
“The resemblance is there.”
“So you do know Emily?”
“I knew her. But she was only with us a short time.”
“What about her baby?”
Metwater turned away. “I can’t help you there.”
“Can’t—or won’t?”
“You may leave now,” Metwater said. “I’ll see you at the council tonight.”
“Tell me what happened to Emily Dietrich,” Walt said.
Metwater sat and looked up at Walt, his expression calm. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” he said.
Walt wanted to grab the man and shake him. But all that would probably achieve was a beating by Kiram and friends, and possible assault charges himself. “I’m going to keep asking questions,” he said. “I’m going to find answers.”
“I can’t stop you,” Metwater said. “But you might not like the answers you find. Sometimes it’s wisest to let the dead rest in peace.”
“What makes you say she’s dead?” Walt demanded. “You do know something, don’t you?”
Metwater’s gaze shifted away and he waved his hand dismissively. “I was using a common figure of speech. If I said ‘let sleeping dogs lie’ you wouldn’t think I was calling your friend a dog, would you?”
“I’m not buying it,” Walt said. “You know something, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“Don’t waste any more of my time.” Metwater left the room. Walt stared after him. The Prophet was going to be on guard now that he knew he was being watched, but that wouldn’t keep Walt from finding out the truth.
When Walt emerged from the trailer, Hannah was waiting for him—along with Kiram. Walt ignored the bodyguard and addressed Hannah. “I thought you were with Phoenix.” Before she could answer, Kiram stepped between them. “You aren’t supposed to be together until the council meeting tonight,” he said.
Walt studied the other man for a long moment. Kiram was clearly devoted to Metwater and his rules, but if the two of them hung around much longer he had no doubt one of them was going to lose his temper. “The Prophet has decided I’ll be okay on my own.” He nodded toward the door of the motor home. “If you don’t believe me, go ask him.”
Kiram looked from Walt to the motor home and back again. “You’re trying to trick me.”
“No trick,” Walt said. “Go on and ask him. It’s not as if you can’t find me easily enough if it turns out I’m lying.”
Kiram glared at Walt, then stormed up the steps and knocked. After a moment, he was admitted. Walt took Hannah’s arm. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Hannah pulled him around behind the RV, out of sight of the rest of the camp. “When Phoenix went inside her trailer to get a diaper for Vicki, I walked away,” she said. “I was getting worried about you. What did Metwater want?”
“He wanted to know what I told the police. And he wanted to know why we’re here,” he said. “He wasn’t convinced we’re true believers.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth—or part of it. I told him we came here looking for Emily.”
All the color left her cheeks and she released her hold on him. “What did he say?”
“He said she was h
ere for a short time, but he didn’t know what happened to her—or to her baby.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Do you?”
“No.” She glanced around, then pulled him farther into the woods, away from the campsite. “I think the people here are lying to us about a lot of things,” she said. “And some of the things that might be the truth make me very uneasy. I think we should take the baby and get out of here as soon as possible.”
She was still pale, and her hands shook as she smoothed back her hair. “What’s got you so upset?” he asked.
“Phoenix told me Metwater has slept with most of the women here. She said she’d slept with him—that it was an honor. She said my turn would come—it doesn’t matter that I’m married. Or, you know, that he thinks I’m married.”
He smoothed his hand down her arm, trying to comfort her. “I’m not going to let him hurt you,” he said.
“I won’t be alone with him again,” she said.
“Agreed. What else did Phoenix tell you? Did you learn anything more about Emily or Joy?”
She shook her head. “She only talked about the Prophet, and how he changed her life. And she said she had to give custody of Sophie to her parents for a while, but joining up with the Family made it possible for her to have Sophie with her again. But that didn’t make a lot of sense to me. Would grandparents really turn over their granddaughter to live with a wandering bunch of modern-day hippies?”
“Maybe they would if they thought it was best for Sophie and for Phoenix.”
“There’s something else that’s bothering me. Not anything Phoenix said, but something I saw.”
“What is it?”
“You know how she always wears long sleeves?”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“I had. All the other women wear tank tops or short sleeves—it can get pretty warm here during the day, especially in the kitchen. But Phoenix always stays covered up to her wrists. But this morning, when she reached for the baby, her sleeve pushed up and I saw that she has scars.” She traced a line on the back of her arm, from elbow to wrist. “Thin lines. I wondered—could it be from drugs?”