by Cindi Myers
Kiram prodded him in the side. “Close your mouth and stop gaping,” he said. “You’d think you’d never seen your wife before.”
A clap of thunder shook the air and a murmur swept through the crowd like a wave, and the mass of people parted to reveal Daniel Metwater striding toward the fire. Walt wondered how long he had waited in the background for that thunderclap to announce his entrance—he doubted it was merely coincidence. Like most of the other men he, too, wore a loincloth, revealing muscular legs and the body of someone who spent a lot of time working out. His chest and face were painted in primitive symbols rendered in red, white and black—his eyes circled in white, a black streak down his nose, and more lines on his cheek and chin. It reminded Walt of a poor copy of an African tribal mask he had once seen in a museum. The effect was eerie, firelight flickering on his familiar, yet not familiar visage.
Metwater raised both hands over his head and the crowd quieted. “Thank you all for gathering with me tonight,” he said, his voice booming in the sudden silence. “Thank you for recognizing the importance of coming together as a family, and of working as one to build something beautiful—something the outside world doesn’t understand.”
Walt recognized the technique—build cohesiveness in a group by pitting the members against an outside enemy—a mysterious “them.”
“We are here tonight to consider the fate of two who have petitioned to join us,” Metwater continued. “Serenity—” He gestured to Hannah. “And Walter.”
Walt was sure the use of names neither he nor Hannah preferred was deliberate, another way of saying I’m the one in charge here. “They have expressed a desire to become part of our family, but their actions show they yet lack the discipline and commitment required to build a strong unit,” Metwater said.
Walt caught Hannah’s eye across the circle. She gave him a half smile, then made a face at Metwater. Attagirl.
“I have spent much time in meditation on their fate, and I have received a vision.”
Walt watched the faces of those around him as they listened to Metwater. They stared fixedly at him, some almost trancelike as his words rose and fell, his voice having the rhythm and cadence of a hypnotist. He was good, Walt had to admit. But if you had to trick people into listening to you, how good of a leader could you really be?
Metwater spent some time describing his vision—something to do with a figure all in white—an angel—coming to him with a tablet, on which was written the solution to their problem. Were people really buying this? Apparently so, as they began to murmur and nod their heads in agreement.
Suddenly, Metwater reached out and grabbed Hannah’s hand and yanked her to his side. Walt hadn’t even realized he had lunged forward until Kiram pulled him back. The blade of Kiram’s knife pressed to his throat. “I wouldn’t make another move if I were you,” the bearded man said.
Walt probably could have fought off the other man. He’d been trained in self-defense and was confident of his abilities. But he couldn’t fight off a whole camp full of men, and the way this bunch was hanging on Metwater’s every word, if the Prophet had commanded them to kill Walt, they wouldn’t have hesitated to fall on him like a pack of rabid dogs.
Hannah tried to pull away from Metwater, but he held her fast. She settled for glaring at him. Clearly, she hadn’t fallen under his spell like so many others. “My vision told me to welcome Serenity to our fold with open arms,” Metwater said. “She has a true gentle spirit and will be an asset to us. With proper guidance, I believe she will come to be a revered and respected member of the group.”
Hannah’s expression didn’t soften. Walt imagined she was grinding her teeth to keep from reminding Metwater that her name wasn’t Serenity and she wasn’t interested in his guidance.
“As of tonight, Serenity will live with me and I will take personal responsibility for her education and training.”
A murmur rose from the crowd. Phoenix clapped her hands together, apparently thrilled. Hannah paled and tried, in vain, to pull away from Metwater. That does it, Walt thought. They were leaving tonight. He wasn’t going to give Metwater a chance to “educate” Hannah, whatever form that might take.
At last Metwater handed Hannah off to Phoenix again. “Now to the question of Walter,” he said. The crowd shifted to stare at Walt, who glared back.
“I fear, and my vision confirmed, that he does not have the proper spirit of cooperation that would allow him to be a valued member of our group,” Metwater said. “He has shown a blatant disregard for our rules and an unhealthy defiance.”
Or maybe just a healthy skepticism that you would have anyone’s benefit but your own in mind, Walt thought.
“For the good of the Family, Walter must be banished,” Metwater declared.
“No!” The cry came from Hannah, who was being held back by Phoenix and another woman.
“Fine by me,” Walt said. “I’ll leave tonight.” And he would be back before morning with a team of Rangers to free Hannah and arrest Metwater for kidnapping.
Metwater ignored him. “In order that he may learn a valuable lesson, and have time to reconsider his rebellious attitude, he will undergo a trial.”
“I’ve had enough of this nonsense,” Walt muttered.
Kiram took a firmer hold on him. “Don’t try anything,” the bearded man whispered.
Metwater turned and strode toward him. There was nothing natural in his movements—he was a performer on stage, playing to his audience. He stopped in front of Walt. “You will be taken out into the wilderness. From there, you can make your own way back to the world. You are never to come here again.”
“I have my bike,” Walt said.
“No. I have your bike.” Metwater smiled. “Or rather, you are leaving it behind for your lovely wife.”
“You can’t do this,” Walt said.
“If you could speak with others who have tried to defy me, you would learn that I can.” He turned his back on Walt and crossed the circle to Hannah.
“I won’t stay with you,” she said. “I’m leaving with my husband.”
“I am your husband now,” Metwater said. “And your father and your brother and all you need.” The words were beyond cheesy, but the frightening thing was, Metwater had managed to brainwash these people into believing them. He took Hannah’s hand and held fast when she tried to turn away.
Walt shoved aside Kiram’s hand, not caring that the knife grazed his arm, drawing blood. “Let her go!” he shouted.
His eyes met Hannah’s, and behind her panic he saw strength, and then alarm. “Walt, look out!” she cried, and then he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, and everything went black.
Chapter Fourteen
Hannah couldn’t believe this was happening. Up until now everything about the evening—from the ridiculous dress-up clothes to Metwater’s bombastic speech—had seemed like a silly game. It hardly seemed credible that anyone could get away with things like kidnapping and banishment in front of a crowd of people in this day and age.
But they were in an almost roadless wilderness area, far from other people and laws and even cell phones. That isolation—and his followers’ willingness to be hypnotized by his words—gave Metwater more power than he might otherwise have had.
But she wasn’t going to allow him to have power over her. “Stop!” she shouted, as two men carried Walt’s inert body away from the fire, into the darkness. She kicked and clawed at the men who had moved in to help the women contain her, but they only tightened their hold.
“Serenity! Hannah! You need to calm down.” Phoenix grasped her hand and patted it, her face twisted in concern. “You don’t need to get so upset.”
“They hurt Walt,” she said, fighting a mixture of rage and dismay.
“I’m sure they didn’t.” Phoenix squeezed her hand. “He’ll
be fine. Meanwhile, you’ve been given a great honor.”
Hannah stared at her friend, confused.
“You’re going to live with the Prophet.” Phoenix stroked her hair. “He rarely takes such an interest in anyone. It’s really a privilege.”
Hannah winced. “He can take his privilege and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine!”
“Freedom was the same way when he chose her,” Phoenix said. “Don’t make the same mistake she did and fight with him. In the end it will only do you more harm than good.”
“He did this to my sister?” Hannah stared at her. “He forced himself on her?”
Phoenix looked flustered. “I don’t know about your sister. I was talking about Freedom.”
“Freedom was my sister,” Hannah said. “Her name was Emily Dietrich, and her daughter’s name is Joy. I have Joy’s birth certificate, and the will you witnessed. I know.”
Phoenix shook her head, as if trying to clear it. “Have you seen her? Spoken to her? Did you ask her why she left her baby?”
“She didn’t leave her.” Hannah was crying now, tears streaming down her face, even as the two men who held her dragged her toward Metwater’s RV. “Emily couldn’t come back to her baby because she’s dead,” she said.
“I don’t understand,” Phoenix said.
“My sister—Emily—Freedom—is dead,” Hannah said. “She died in Denver, when she went there with the Prophet. I believe he killed her.”
Phoenix stopped at the bottom of the steps leading to the motor home’s door. “That isn’t possible,” she said. “He told us she had left.”
“She would never have left her baby,” Hannah said. “You know that.”
“I don’t—” Phoenix began.
“Come on.” One of the women had opened the door to Metwater’s RV and held it while the men dragged Hannah backward up the steps. They must have heard what she told Phoenix, but they showed no reaction. “You don’t want to keep the Prophet waiting,” the woman said.
They dragged Hannah into the RV, which appeared to be empty. If Daniel Metwater was there, he wasn’t showing his face. They shoved her into a room and the lock clicked behind her. She stood for a moment, catching her breath and taking stock of her surroundings. The room contained a futon and a single chair. One window. She dragged the chair over to the window, climbed up on it and tried to force up the sash. It wouldn’t budge.
“You won’t get out that way.”
Metwater stood in the doorway. He had removed the paint and the loincloth, and changed back into his loose linen trousers. “The window is nailed shut from the outside,” he said. “And there’s mesh over the pane so you can’t break the glass.” He moved closer to her and held out his hand. “Come down from there and let’s talk.”
He led her to the futon and pushed her down, then sat beside her. “You’re even prettier than your sister,” he said.
“What did you do to Emily?” she asked.
“I tried to help her, but she wouldn’t accept my help.” His smile sent a cold shiver through her stomach.
“She didn’t need your help,” she said.
“You say that because you want to believe that you were all she needed. But if that had been true, she wouldn’t have left you and come to us.”
His words were like a knife to her heart. No matter how long she lived, she would never stop believing she had somehow failed her sister. “What did you do to her?” she asked. “Why did she die?”
“An unfortunate accident,” he said. He reached for her and she pulled away.
“I want to know what happened in Denver,” she said. “Why did my sister die alone?”
He sat back, his expression hard. “I took her to the hospital. There was nothing else I could do for her.”
She shivered, struck by his coldness. “You could have stayed with her. She was probably terrified.”
He said nothing.
“Why did you lie and tell everyone she had run away?” she asked.
“There was no sense upsetting the rest of the Family. I don’t believe in dwelling on negatives. What’s important is the future.” He reached for her again, but she pushed him away.
He scowled. “You’re upset,” he said. “But I can be patient—for a while.” He stood. “We’ll talk again in the morning.”
“What did you do with Walt?”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“That’s how you operate, isn’t it?” Anger made her bold. “You have other people do your dirty work for you.”
“Go to sleep,” he said. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
He shut off the light and closed the door. Her instinct was to run after him, to pound on the door and shout for him to let her out. But no one would pay any attention to her, least of all Metwater. She sank onto the futon and glared at the shut window. She had to figure out a way to get out of here. She had to find Walt, and together they had to get Joy and take her to safety.
She thought of Emily, trapped in this same room, missing her baby and desperate to escape. She hadn’t been lucky enough to get away. Maybe she hadn’t been strong enough. But Hannah would be strong enough for both of them. She would take care of her sister’s child. Failure wasn’t an option.
* * *
WALT CAME TO lying flat on his back in the darkness. He was wet and cold, and something hard was digging into his spine. Groaning, he shoved himself into a sitting position and wiped dripping water out of his eyes. It was raining—a steady drizzle that ran in rivulets across the rocky ground around him. He could make out little in the darkness, except that he was somewhere away from camp, presumably in the wilderness.
He was still wearing the stupid loincloth and was barefoot. He wouldn’t get far in this country full of rocks and thorns in such a state of undress. Of course, before very long he’d probably die of hypothermia, what with the rain soaking him and nighttime temperatures in the fifties. Or he’d starve or die of thirst, since the rainwater would dry up in a matter of hours once the sun rose. Metwater was counting on that. It was a good way to kill someone without actually having to pull the trigger. If the body was found later, Metwater could always claim Walt had wandered into the wilderness on his own.
But he didn’t have to get far—he only had to get back to camp. He wasn’t going to die out here. He would rescue Hannah, recover his clothes and his bike, and head back to Ranger headquarters. Then Metwater would discover how hard paybacks could be.
He struggled to his feet, swaying a little, dizzy from the pounding in his head. He ran his fingers over the knot at the back of his skull, his hair sticky from what he imagined was drying blood. He took a few steps, wincing as rocks dug into his feet. He stumbled over something—a log or a boulder—and fell, hitting the ground hard and cursing loudly. The only answer was the steadily falling rain.
This wasn’t going to work. It was too dark to see where he was going. He’d have to wait until it was light. Then he could take his bearings and determine the most likely route back to the camp. Otherwise, he might break his leg or stumble over a cliff. He wouldn’t be any help to Hannah, lying at the bottom of a ravine.
Moving carefully, hands outstretched like a blind man, feet shuffling along, he made his way to a tree and huddled at the base of the trunk. Knees drawn up and arms wrapped around his legs, he tried to warm himself. Distraction—that was what he needed. He just had to stick it out here a few more hours. He started by thinking of all the ways he would make Metwater and Kiram pay for their treatment of him and Hannah. He had compiled a long list of possible charges against them, from kidnapping and assault to fraud and violating the county burn bans.
The idea was satisfying, but it couldn’t keep his thoughts from straying to his chief worry—not fear for his own life or concern that he might not find the camp again, bu
t worry for Hannah. He felt physically ill, knowing she might be in danger and he was out here, powerless.
She’s tough, he reminded himself. She isn’t afraid to stand up to Metwater. She’s smart, too. She was the most amazing woman he knew, and out here in the darkness, with nothing between him and his feelings, he realized he had fallen in love with her. It wasn’t something he had intended to happen, but there it was. He’d lost his heart to a woman who lived in another state, who was focused on making a new life with her orphaned niece and who clearly had no room in her life for an ordinary cop.
* * *
HANNAH MOVED THE chair from the window and wedged it under the bedroom doorknob. She’d have to remove it eventually, but at least Metwater wouldn’t be able to come into the room while she slept.
If sleep were even possible. She lay down on the futon, her mind racing with thoughts of her sister, of Joy, of Metwater—and of Walt.
Where was he right now? Had Kiram taken him out into the desert and killed him? Or left him to die? Her throat constricted and she swallowed tears. How had the lawman come to mean so much to her in such a short time? He wasn’t like any of the other men she had known—he didn’t try to change her or expect anything of her or judge her choices. He didn’t need her for anything, yet when she was with him she felt stronger and smarter and more confident. Time spent with him seemed better than time spent alone—and that had never been the case with anyone else.
Her breath caught, and she sat up in bed. Was she falling in love with Walt? Was that even possible when she had known him such a short time? She didn’t want a man in her life—didn’t need one. She had work and Joy and so much going on. How could that leave any room for a relationship?
She tossed and turned until the window changed from a square of black to a square of silvery gray. She returned to the window and stood on tiptoe to see out. No one moved out there at this hour. Not that she would expect to see anyone at any time of day, really. The back of the RV looked out onto a choked mass of trees and underbrush that bordered the creek.