by Cindi Myers
“What is it?” Marco asked. “Was there someone she spent time with here?”
“Easy offered to give her a ride back into town,” she said.
“Who is Easy?” Hannah asked before either of the officers could speak. “I haven’t met anyone here by that name.”
“He’s not a member of the Family,” Phoenix said. “He just visits sometimes. He delivers groceries or gives people rides if they need to go somewhere and don’t have their own car. Sometimes he runs errands for the Prophet.”
“What kind of errands?” Walt hadn’t meant to speak, but he couldn’t keep the question back.
Phoenix shrugged. “I don’t know. He buys stuff he needs or takes him to the airport when he flies somewhere to give a talk.”
“When was the last time you saw Easy?” Marco asked.
“A few days ago. I don’t remember.” She shifted. “What does any of this have to do with me? I’m sorry the girl is missing, but I can’t help you.”
She looked up as the door to the trailer opened. Michael whirled to face the newcomer, one hand on the duty weapon at his side. Daniel Metwater stepped into the trailer. His hair was wet and he smelled of soap. He wore the same loose linen trousers he usually favored, and a flowing tunic of the same white linen. Walt thought of it as his official Prophet uniform. “What is going on here?” Metwater demanded, taking in the scene.
Marco stood and faced the newcomer. The door was still open and Sophie, carrying the baby, slipped past the officers and joined her mother on the sofa. The girl must have summoned the Prophet to help her mother. Kiram followed her, taking his place behind Metwater, his expression sullen, as usual. The small trailer was too crowded, and the air fairly crackled with tension. Walt thought of the gun in his ankle holster and hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. He took a step closer to Hannah, prepared to shove her to the floor if bullets started flying.
“We’re investigating the disappearance of a young woman who visited your camp shortly before she disappeared,” Marco said.
“We had nothing to do with that,” Metwater said.
“Why did you lie to us about having seen Lucia Raton?” Michael asked. “What are you trying to hide?”
“She was here for only a few hours,” Metwater said. “And she was fine when she left here.”
“Then why lie?” Marco asked.
“I’m entitled to my privacy. And you’re trespassing in my home. You need to leave.”
“This is public land,” Marco said. “You are camping here because you have a permit, but that doesn’t give you the right to exclude anyone—especially not officers of the law who are conducting an investigation.”
“Why didn’t you want us to know about the grave in that clearing?” Michael asked.
“I don’t have to answer your questions.” Metwater looked sullen, and less handsome and in-control than usual. “You need to leave.”
Marco ignored the order, deliberately turning his back to Metwater to face Phoenix once more. “We found Lucia’s locket in the grave with your belongings,” he told her. “Can you explain how it got there?”
* * *
IF SHE WAS feigning shock, she was doing an amazing job, Hannah thought as Phoenix stared up at Marco. “That’s impossible,” she said. “I buried those things before Lucia ever visited the camp.”
“Is there anyone who can confirm that?” Marco asked. “Anyone who helped you with the burial?”
She shook her head. “No. I did it alone. It was important that I do it alone.”
“Did you tell anyone what you planned to do?” Marco asked. “Could someone have followed and seen you?”
“I only told the Prophet,” Phoenix answered. “And why would someone have followed me?”
Hannah hated seeing the other woman so distressed. “Did you find anything else in the grave that belonged to Lucia?” she asked.
“The forensics team is still sorting through their findings,” Marco said.
“You’re wasting your time here,” Metwater said. “You need to leave.”
“We’ll go, after we’ve questioned Mr. and Mrs. Morgan.” He motioned to Walt and Hannah. “If you two will come with me, please.”
Kiram moved to block the door. “Why do you want to talk to them?” he asked.
“We think it’s a little suspicious that they showed up here about the time Lucia disappeared,” Marco said.
Even though she knew the words were a lie, Hannah felt a tremor of fear. How much worse must Phoenix feel, being accused by these men who had so much power to destroy her life? She squeezed the older woman’s hand, then stood and prepared to follow Walt and the others out of the trailer.
A hand on her shoulder stopped her. Metwater moved close to her—too close. His gaze locked to hers and he smoothed his hand down her arm in a possessive way that sent a shiver up her spine. “Don’t be too long,” he said. “You have to prepare for tonight’s council.”
Walt took her hand and tugged her toward the door. They followed Marco and Michael a short distance away, down a path that led into the woods along the creek. The noise of the water rushing over the rocks was a soothing contrast to the tension knotting tighter inside her with each passing minute.
“You’re on the wrong track here,” she said when the two lawmen stopped and faced her and Walt. “Phoenix couldn’t have had anything to do with Lucia’s disappearance. She’s not the type to harm someone else.”
“I got the impression she would do just about anything for Metwater,” Marco said. “You heard her—he saved her life.”
She looked at the ground, unable to think of a response. Phoenix did have a blind spot when it came to the Prophet.
“How did that locket get in the grave if she didn’t put it there?” Walt asked.
“Don’t know.” Michael leaned against a tree, his posture relaxed. “What do you make of her story about burying her past?”
“I believe it,” Walt said. “It’s the kind of thing Metwater would preach. They’re very big into rituals and ceremonies around here.”
“What is this council he mentioned?” Marco asked.
“Some kind of meeting to decide on the appropriate punishment for me disobeying Metwater’s orders and going to you guys to report the grave,” Walt said.
“Punishment?” Michael asked. “What kind of punishment?”
“I don’t know.” Walt turned to Hannah. “Have you heard anything?”
“Phoenix said it will probably be extra work or something like that—something to impress upon us the importance of putting the Family ahead of ourselves. We have to prove we’re serious about our intentions to become one of them.”
“How serious are you?” Marco asked. “Why not just leave now? You’ve probably learned all you’re going to learn at this point.”
“We know Phoenix’s baby is really my niece,” Hannah said. “She told us this afternoon—right before you arrived—that the baby belonged to a woman who called herself Freedom. And Phoenix’s real name on my sister’s will proves she was at the hospital when the baby was born.”
“There’s still the problem of Metwater’s name as the father on the birth certificate,” Walt said. “He can fight any attempt to gain custody.”
“Not if we have a DNA test proving paternity,” Hannah said. “And not if we prove he was involved in Emily’s death.” She turned to Marco. “Phoenix said Metwater took Emily to Denver with him and came back without her. He told everyone here that she had left—she had abandoned her baby. Why would he lie about her having died in the hospital, unless he had something to do with her death?”
“He lies about a lot of things,” Michael said. “But in most cases, lying itself isn’t a crime.”
“Why didn’t you ask Phoenix about the will?” Hannah asked.
&
nbsp; The two officers looked at each other. “We were so focused on the search for Lucia we weren’t thinking about your sister’s will,” Marco said.
“Were you able to get the warrant for the DNA test on the baby?” she asked.
Another look passed between them. “Not yet,” Marco admitted.
“I can’t leave camp without the baby,” she said.
“Taking her without the court order could backfire if Metwater decides to press charges,” Walt said. “Child Welfare and Protection has already indicated they’re on his side. They could ask the court to award temporary custody to Metwater, pending the outcome of the DNA test, and while we’re waiting on results, he could leave the area with the baby.”
“I won’t risk it,” Hannah said. “I have to stay here until I can legally take her away.”
Michael straightened. “We’ll push harder for the court order. In the meantime, see if you can find out anything that would link Metwater to Lucia’s disappearance.”
“We also need to find this Easy fellow and interview him,” Marco said. He clapped a hand on Walt’s shoulder. “Let us know if you discover anything useful. And try to stay out of trouble.”
“Right,” Walt said. He took Hannah’s arm and they walked silently back to camp. She fought the urge to lean into him, to let his presence shield her from the anxiety coiling inside her. Maybe it was seeing Phoenix so frightened, or maybe this was simply the emotional side effect of digging so deeply into Emily’s last days, but she felt overwhelmed and a little out of control. As if sensing her struggle, Walt put his arm around her. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “It will all be over soon.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Phoenix is waiting for you,” Kiram told Hannah as she and Walt approached Phoenix’s trailer. “She will help you prepare for tonight.” He motioned to Walt. “You come with me.”
Walt started to protest, but Hannah interrupted. “It will be all right,” she said, repeating the words of comfort he had given her. She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”
Much as she would have liked to stay with Walt, she would learn more from Phoenix without him there. She made her way back to Phoenix’s trailer and found her laying an assortment of supplies on the table—soap, paints, hair ribbons and a simple white garment Hannah suspected was sewn from a bedsheet. “What is all this?” she asked, surveying the array.
“This is for tonight.” Phoenix smiled at her. “You want to look your best for the council.” She picked up the soap. “First, bathe with this. Then we’ll do your hair and makeup.”
The soap was obviously homemade and smelled astringent—not the moisturizing bar Hannah preferred. But she didn’t argue, and walked with Phoenix to the outdoor shower someone had built, utilizing a plastic drum to store water that was heated by the sun. After a quick soap and rinse, they walked back to the trailer, where Phoenix seated Hannah at the table and began combing out her hair, humming to herself.
“I told the officers I thought you were innocent,” Hannah said after a moment. “I’m sure you didn’t have anything to do with that girl’s disappearance.”
“I have faith they’ll learn that soon enough.” She picked up a ribbon and began braiding it into a section of Hannah’s hair.
“When I heard your real name—your old name—I realized it was familiar to me,” she said.
Phoenix’s fingers stopped moving. “Did we know each other before?” she asked, her tone puzzled.
“You were one of the witnesses on Emily—Freedom’s—will.” She waited for Phoenix to ask how she knew about the will, but the other woman merely went back to braiding Hannah’s hair.
“She asked me to sign some papers for her, so I did,” Phoenix said. “A nurse from the hospital was there and she signed, too.”
“Why did she decide to write a will?” Hannah asked. “What was she afraid of?”
“Oh, she wasn’t afraid. Not exactly.”
“But she was upset about something?” Hannah prodded. “Why else would she be so anxious to have a will that she wrote it right there in the hospital?”
“She had had a fight with the Prophet. That upset her.”
Hannah turned to look at her. “A fight? What about? Did he threaten her?”
“The Prophet doesn’t threaten—he disciplines. And only because we need it. Just as a loving father disciplines his children.”
Hannah could guess where those words had come from. “How did he discipline Emily?” she asked, stomach cramping in anticipation of the answer.
“I don’t know. And I don’t know what they argued about, either. That was between Freedom and the Prophet.”
“I don’t think an adult has the right to ‘discipline’ another adult,” Hannah said.
“You just don’t understand because you haven’t experienced it.” She picked up another ribbon and began braiding another section of Hannah’s hair. “For instance, when I first came here, I was still trying to get off heroin. The Prophet locked me up in his motor home and looked after me while I went through withdrawal. He wouldn’t let me leave, even though I tried to run away. Some people might have seen it as cruel that he kept me prisoner that way, but he saved my life.”
“Emily wasn’t a drug addict,” Hannah said. She took a deep breath, reining in her anger. “She was a grieving young woman with a new baby. She didn’t need to be punished for anything.”
“I’m sure the Prophet had his reasons,” Phoenix said. “I’ve never known him to be wrong.”
Hannah turned to face her once more. “Do you think he’s going to punish me for Walt going to the police?” she asked.
Phoenix brushed a lock of hair from Hannah’s forehead. “He likes you. I can tell by the way he looks at you. You’re going to be one of his favorites. Whatever he does, it will only be because he cares for you.”
Hannah felt sick to her stomach at the words. She didn’t want Daniel Metwater’s brand of caring. She had to find a way to safely leave here, and to take Joy with her. What about Walt? a voice in the back of her mind whispered. Will you take him with you, too—or leave him behind?
* * *
“I’M NOT GOING to walk out there in front of a whole camp full of people naked.” Walt folded his arms and glared at the scrap of cloth Kiram was holding out for him to put on.
“Everyone else will be dressed this way,” Kiram said. “It’s to show we have nothing to hide from each other.”
Walt took the loincloth. He definitely wouldn’t be able to hide a weapon in this getup. He would bet Kiram and Metwater’s other “bodyguards” would be wearing their knives along with this primitive excuse for a Speedo. But he didn’t see any way to get out of wearing the thing if he wanted to avoid raising further suspicion. “I’ll wear it,” he said. “But I’m putting my regular clothes back on as soon as this is over.”
Kiram shrugged. “What did those cops want with you and your wife?” he asked.
Walt had been waiting for this to come up. “They asked if we knew the missing girl—if we had ever met her or seen her or knew anything about her.”
“What did you tell them?”
He pretended to examine the loincloth. “We told them the truth—we didn’t know anything.”
“Seems like they could have asked you all that when you told them about the grave site.”
“Yeah, well, they didn’t.” He stuffed the loincloth into his pocket. “I guess I’ll go back to my tent and change.”
“You can change at my place.” He pointed to the shack behind them.
“What do I do with my clothes?”
“Leave them here. They’ll be fine with me.”
And Kiram would be going through his things as soon as Walt was out of sight. “Okay.” He headed for the shack. He’d have to find a hiding place
for his gun while he was at the council—someplace Kiram wasn’t likely to look.
He stripped off quickly, folded his clothes and left them on the end of Kiram’s cot. He thought about hiding the weapon under the bed, but ended up stashing it behind a rafter overhead. In the dim light, it would be almost impossible to see. Then he took a few minutes to poke around in the room. Kiram had a small collection of manga novels and another of porn magazines, stashed in a wooden crate that served as his bedside table. He had a wardrobe of mostly shorts and cargo pants and T-shirts; a toolbox with an assortment of screwdrivers, wrenches and a hammer; and a dartboard with only three darts. A sagging, faded sofa sat against one wall.
Walt eyed the footlocker that sat at the end of the cot. He wished he had the time to check the contents of it, but he didn’t dare risk it right now.
The door opened and Kiram stepped in. “What’s taking so long?” he asked. “You’d better not be messing with my stuff.”
“It took me a while to figure out how to get this thing on.” Walt snapped the waistband of the loincloth, which was a little too breezy for comfort.
“Come on, let’s go.” He stepped aside and motioned for Walt to move ahead of him.
A soft drizzle had begun to fall—enough moisture to make everything damp and uncomfortable, but not enough to get them really wet. The murmur of voices drifted through the trees, swelling as they neared the center of the camp. A bonfire blazed, flames bright against the surrounding blackness, popping wood sending out showers of sparks like fireflies. It looked to Walt as if everyone in camp had gathered, most dressed in the same kind of faux-native garb he and Kiram wore. The crowd parted as he followed Kiram to a spot by the fire, and he looked across the circle and saw Hannah with Phoenix and Sophie.
For the briefest moment, he couldn’t breathe, as if he had forgotten how. Her hair was down, spilling around her shoulders in a mass of tiny braids threaded with purple and pink and blue ribbons. She wore a simple sheath which, though it covered her from her collarbone to just above the knees, did nothing to hide her feminine curves. If anything, it made him more aware than ever of his attraction to her. He wanted her, yes, but he also wanted to protect her and champion her and work alongside her.