The Ranger Brigade: Family Secrets

Ethan sat beside Michelle on the cot once more. Hunter turned his head to look at the man, the little boy’s eyes wide with curiosity. “How old is he?” Ethan asked. He offered his finger and, grinning, Hunter took hold of it.

His question caught her off guard. Was he really interested in her son, or only trying to lull her into trusting him? “Nine months,” she answered.

“Taking care of a child by yourself is a big responsibility,” Ethan said.

“I can handle it.” She pulled Hunter closer.

“Looks like you’re doing a great job.” He freed his finger from the little boy’s grasp, and his eyes met hers once more. “If you get hurt you won’t be able to look after him.”

She ignored the shudder that went up her spine at his words. She didn’t need this cop warning her about how to behave. She had been looking after herself for a long time. She jutted out her chin. “I’ll be fine.”

“Be careful, that’s all.” He took a business card from his shirt pocket and held it out to her. “If you ever need help, or just want to talk, call me. Anytime.”

She took the card and closed her fingers around it. People said things like that all the time, but they almost never meant it. But maybe Ethan Reynolds did.

He touched the cut on her lip, the lightest brush of his fingers, sending a shimmer of heat through her. “If you tell me who did this, I promise I won’t let him hurt you again,” he murmured.

“It was just clumsiness,” she said. Clumsy of her not to guess how Metwater would react to her taunts about the locket. “It won’t happen again.” She wouldn’t make the mistake of being alone with the Prophet again. He had lashed out so fiercely he had taken her by surprise, but next time she would be smarter. She would find a way to get the proof she needed that his brother had killed Cass. When she did, she would do everything in her power to make sure he never hit a woman again.

* * *

ETHAN EMERGED FROM the tent to find Simon waiting for him. “I was about ready to come in there after you,” Simon said. He glanced over Ethan’s shoulder. “What happened? How is Asteria and the other one—Stardust or whatever she calls herself?”

“Starfall. Michelle. Her real name is Michelle. She’s pretty bruised up, and obviously terrified, though she’s trying not to show it. Asteria is fine. Concerned for her friend, of course.”

“What happened to her?” Simon asked. “To Starfall?”

“She says she fell, but I think somebody beat her.” He shifted his gaze to Metwater’s motor home. No light shone from inside the dwelling.

“I didn’t get anything out of any of the people who were still standing around here,” Simon said. “They say they were at the bonfire and didn’t see or hear anything.”

“Let’s see what Metwater has to say.” Ethan started toward the motor home.

“I knocked, but no one answered,” Simon said, falling in step beside Ethan. “I figured I’d wait for backup before I broke down the door.”

“Maybe it won’t come to that.” Ethan pounded the door, a thunderous sound in the still darkness. “Open up!” he shouted. “Police!”

No answer.

Ethan glanced back at Simon, who had already drawn his weapon. “Metwater has a license for a handgun,” Simon said. “I’d just as soon not give him a chance to use it.”

Ethan nodded and drew his Glock. “On three,” he said. “One. Two. Three.” He hit the door hard, landing a fierce kick beside the lock, the metal crumpling under the blow. He hit it again with his shoulder and it burst inward. He immediately ducked around the jamb, waiting for an explosion of gunfire that didn’t come.

Simon’s eyes met his and he nodded. Ethan went in first, gun at the ready, Simon at his back. Simon hit the light switch, illuminating a sofa, recliner, table and lamp. Nothing out of order and no obvious place for anyone to hide. Adrenaline making him hyperalert, Ethan pounded down the hallway to another door. He didn’t bother knocking, but burst in, onto a scene of chaos.

A man cursed and a woman screamed—and kept on screaming. Ethan flicked the wall switch to the left of the door, and a single bedside lamp glowed, revealing a young woman standing in the corner, frantically trying to cover herself with a sheet she had dragged from the bed. Her mouth was open, and tears streamed down her face.

Daniel Metwater, naked and red-faced, sat up on the side of the bed. “Freeze!” Simon ordered, and fixed his weapon on him.

Metwater glared at them. “What is the meaning of this? The district attorney has ordered you people to leave me alone. I’ll have your jobs, and then I’ll sue you for everything you own. I—”

“Shut up,” Ethan said. “And keep your hands where we can see them.”

Metwater looked as if he might argue, but finally raised his hands to shoulder level. But he didn’t stop talking. “You can’t bust into a man’s home in the middle of the night for no reason,” he said.

“Shut up.” Simon gave the order this time.

Ethan addressed the woman. “Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked.

She closed her mouth and swallowed, then nodded.

“What’s your name?” Ethan asked.

“Sunshine.”

“What’s your full name?” he asked. “Your real name.”

“Sunshine is my real name. Sunshine Hartford.”

She looked barely eighteen, with strawberry-blond curls and freckles. “Ms. Hartford, how long have you been here with Mr. Metwater?” Ethan asked.

“N...not long.” She pulled the sheet up higher over her breasts.

“How long?” Ethan asked. “Give me your best estimate.”

“She’s been here almost an hour,” Metwater said.

“I told you to be quiet,” Simon said.

“How long have you been here?” Ethan asked again.

“I guess like he said.” She bit her bottom lip and glanced at Metwater. “About an hour?”

She was lying, but there wasn’t much Ethan could do about it now. Confident Simon had Metwater under control, he holstered his Glock and took out a small notebook. “Give me your contact information and then you can get dressed and wait for us outside,” he said.

He waited until the young woman had gathered her clothing and left the room, the sheet still wrapped around her. Then he turned to Metwater again. “Get up and put on some pants,” he ordered.

With a sneering look, Metwater scooped a pair of loose-fitting white trousers from the floor and tugged them on. He tied the cord at the waist. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“What happened between you and one of your followers—a woman called Starfall?” Ethan asked.

The expression in Metwater’s icy brown eyes never changed. “What about her? If she’s gotten into some kind of trouble, that’s her problem, not mine.”

“Not very sympathetic for a man who claims to be the head of a family,” Simon said.

“We witnessed her coming out of this motor home less than half an hour ago,” Ethan said. “She was bruised and bleeding. She fainted.”

“I don’t know why she would be here.” Metwater looked around, found a shirt and pulled it on, but didn’t button it.

“I didn’t ask if you knew why she was here,” Ethan said. “What happened while she was here? How was she hurt?”

“I have no idea.”

“Where were you when she was hurt?” Simon asked.

Metwater shrugged. “Since I don’t know when she was hurt, or even if she was hurt, I can’t answer that.”

“Where were you thirty minutes ago?” Ethan asked.

“I already told you—I was here with Miss Hartford.”

“So you admit you were here, in this motor home, at the time Starfall was hurt,” Ethan said. “Yet you don’t know how she was hurt?”

Metwater’s smile held no warmth. “I was otherwise occupied. With Miss Hartford.”

“Is Miss Hartford one of your followers?” Simon asked. “I don’t remember seeing her around before.”

“She’s an aspiring disciple,” Metwater said.

“We’re going to question Ms. Hartford,” Ethan said. “Are you sure she’ll confirm your story?”

“She will.”

Ethan fought the urge to knock the smug look off Metwater’s face. “Did you have an argument with Starfall?” he asked.

“No.” His smile faded. “Does she say that we did?”

“She’s too upset to question right now,” Ethan said. He wanted to keep Metwater off guard as much as possible.

“She’ll confirm we didn’t argue,” Metwater said. “Unless she lies. She sometimes has a problem with honesty. It’s something we’re working on.”

“I’ll find out the truth,” Ethan said. “And I’ll make sure the person who hurt Starfall is charged and prosecuted.”

“Knock yourself out, Officer.” Metwater stood. “But now it’s time for you to leave. Expect to hear from my lawyers.”

Ethan took a step toward Metwater. If this so-called Prophet thought Ethan was going to be intimidated by empty threats, he was in for a rude awakening.

“Come on.” Simon’s voice snapped Ethan out of his rage. “We’re wasting our time here.”

Ethan turned and led the way out of the motor home. “I wanted to deck him, too,” Simon said when they were outside. “But it wouldn’t be worth the hassle the suits would put you through later.”

Ethan nodded and took a deep, calming breath. “We should talk to Ms. Hartford,” he said.

“She’s long gone.” Simon looked around at the empty campground. The only light was from the few dying embers of the bonfire, and a thin glow of gold showing at the entrance to Asteria and Starfall’s tent. “We’ll track her down tomorrow.”

“I want to check on Starfall one more time,” Ethan said.

Asteria met them at the door of the tent. “She’s sleeping,” she said, in answer to Ethan’s unvoiced question. “She was pretty shaken up, but I think she’ll be okay. She’s pretty tough.”

“Did she tell you anything about what happened?” Ethan asked.

Asteria tucked her hair behind one ear. Deep shadows hollowed her eyes and she looked exhausted. “She wouldn’t say anything. She got angry when I asked her about it.”

“Has Daniel Metwater ever hit any of the women in camp before?” Ethan asked.

Asteria gaped at them, wide-eyed. “No! He would never do that! It isn’t possible.” She smoothed back her hair. “I should go to him now. He’ll be very upset about your accusations, and he’s expecting me. I was on my way to him when all this happened.” She waved a hand toward the cot where Starfall slept.

She started to move past them, but Simon put out a hand to stop her. “What do you mean, Metwater is expecting you?” he asked.

Defiance shone behind the fatigue. “I was going to spend the night with him. I often do.”

“If he was expecting you, what was Sunshine Hartford doing there?” Simon asked.

“Sunshine? Do you mean that girl who’s been hanging around here?” Asteria furrowed her brow. “I thought I saw her at the fire circle tonight, but she wasn’t with the Prophet.”

“She was with him a few minutes ago,” Ethan said.

“She was with him in his bed,” Simon added.

Asteria stared at him. “What?”

“He told us he and Ms. Hartford had been together for the last hour,” Simon said.

“That can’t be right,” she said.

“Why can’t it be right?” Ethan asked.

“Because...” She bit her lower lip, then shook her head. “Just, because.” She looked back toward the cot. Starfall lay on her side, the blanket pulled up past her ears. Only the tumble of her brown curls showed against the white of the pillow.

Simon touched Asteria’s elbow, turning her attention back to him. “Why can’t it be right?” he asked.

“He was supposed to be alone!” The words burst from her, and her eyes shone wetly. “Not with Starfall or Sunshine or anyone else. He asked me to come to him.”

“Maybe he had something else in mind for tonight,” Simon said.

She shook her head. “No. He isn’t like that. You don’t know him at all or you wouldn’t say something like that.”

“Maybe you don’t know him that well, either,” Simon said.

She stepped back into the tent. “Go away and leave us alone,” she said. “You’re not welcome here.”

“We’ll leave for now,” Simon said. “But think about what’s happened tonight. If Daniel Metwater would lie to you about being alone tonight, what else has he lied to you about?”

Ethan gave her a hard look. “And what are you going to do to stop the lying?”

Chapter Three

Michelle was still on Ethan’s mind the next morning as he made his way down the quiet residential street on Montrose’s south side. Staying emotionally distant from victims was a necessary part of the job—let yourself get too wound up about the things people did to each other and you’d never sleep at night. But Michelle got to him. She looked so wounded and fragile, yet he sensed real strength in her.

He turned onto his parents’ street and nodded to a jogger on the sidewalk. The neighbor’s sprinkler sent a shimmer of water over the perfectly trimmed yard, and the aroma of wet grass and pavement drifted in through his partially open window. He pulled into the driveway, wondering how long it would be before he stopped expecting to see his father waiting at the front door. Dad had been gone six months now, but every time Ethan came to the house he experienced that jolt of expectation followed by disappointment.

His mother came to the front door and held open the screen, waiting for him. She wore pale blue scrubs and white clogs, ready for her nursing shift at Montrose Hospital. She looked so small to him—smaller than she had been when he was a boy, and smaller than when his dad had been alive. She smiled as he approached and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “This is a nice surprise,” she said. “What brings you out so early?”

“I just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine. I went shopping yesterday and they had some nice melon. Would you like some?”

“That’s okay, Mom. I already had breakfast.” He looked back at the neighbor’s sprinkler. “I’ll try to come over this afternoon and mow the lawn,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I can hire someone. Mrs. Douglas across the street has someone. I can ask her who she uses.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mom. I’ll take care of it.” His dad had kept the place immaculate when he was alive—grass cut every week, hedges trimmed, flowers mulched. Dad paid all the bills and took care of the cars and even drove Mom shopping once a week. Now she was having to do all those things herself. Ethan wondered if it was too much for her.

“First chance I get, I’ll change the oil in your car,” he said as he followed her into the house. “It’s probably past time for that.”

“I can take it to one of those quick oil change places,” she said. “You have enough to do without worrying about me.”

But Ethan did worry. One of the reasons he had jumped at the chance to join the Ranger Brigade was that the new position would allow him to live close to his mom—to look after her.

“Do you have time for coffee?” she asked as she led the way to the kitchen. “I was just going to pour myself a cup.”

“Coffee would be nice.” He sat at the kitchen table—his usual spot, to the left of the chair where his father had always sat. From this position, he had a good view of the backyard, and the patio he and his dad had put in during Ethan’s senior year of high school—a patio currently occupied by a trio of tabby cats, busy devouring a dish of crumpets.

“Still feeding the neighborhood strays, I see,” he said.

“They’re not strays.” His mother slid a blue mug of coffee in front of him, then took her seat in her usual place across from Ethan. “They’re feral cats. They’ve never had a home, but grew up in the wild.”

One cat finished and retreated to a fence post to groom itself in the sun. “You planning on adopting them?” Ethan asked. A pet might be good for her, keep her company.

“That’s not how it works with ferals,” she said. “You can’t really tame them. They’ll never give up their independence. The best I can do is feed them and provide a sheltered spot for them to get out of the weather.” She indicated a pile of blankets in a corner of the covered patio.

“Sounds like a good way to end up with a whole zoo of wild cats,” Ethan said.

“Oh, no. They’ve all been neutered. See how their ears are notched? That tells everyone they were fixed.”

The cat on the post did indeed have a notch cut out of its right ear. “Maybe you should think about adopting a domestic cat, then,” he said. “Wouldn’t you enjoy the company?”

“I enjoy feeding the ferals and having them around, without the commitment to a full-time cat,” she said.

“Just be careful, Mom,” he said. “Don’t let one of them bite you or anything.”

“You sound just like your father.”

Though she was smiling, the remark pained him. The reaction must have shown on his face, because she quickly changed the subject. “How is your new job going?” she asked. “Are you working on anything interesting?”

“We’re trying to track down some car thieves we think might be operating on public land.” He sipped the coffee. “We were out at Daniel Metwater’s camp last night, seeing if they knew anything.”

“He’s that good-looking preacher fellow, isn’t he?” His mom shook a packet of sweetener into her coffee and stirred. “I’ve read things about him in the paper—all those young people camping out with him. Just like the hippies back when I was that age.” She laughed. “One summer your father decided to grow his hair long and your grandmother was worried to death that he was going to become one of those flower children.”

“Dad had long hair?” Ethan couldn’t picture it. For most of his life, his dad hadn’t had much hair at all.

“Oh, it was just one summer,” she said. “Then he got a job in the oil fields and he had to cut it. I quite liked it, though. He had prettier hair than I did.” She laughed again. “What are they like, the followers of that Prophet?”

“Mostly young,” he said. “Some men, but a lot of women and children. Most of them are probably harmless, but he’s attracted his share of people who are running from something—including the law.”

“I can’t think the children have much of a life, camping in the woods like that,” she said.

“We try to monitor them, make sure there’s no abuse or neglect.” He frowned, remembering the bruises on Michelle’s face.

“What is it, dear?” his mother asked. “You look upset.”

“Last night when we were out there, we ran into a woman,” he said. “Or rather, she ran into us. She’d been beaten—pretty badly. But she insisted she had fallen and wouldn’t tell us who had hit her.”

“Oh, no.” His mom made a tsking noise. “We get women like that in the emergency room sometimes. They’re too afraid to tell the truth, I think.”

“This woman was afraid.” He pushed his half-empty cup aside. “I’m going to go out there this morning and talk to her again. Maybe I can persuade her to file charges.”

“I hope you can help her,” his mom said. “No woman should be treated that way. Your father would have died before he raised his hand against me.”

“Yeah, Dad was a great guy.” He pushed his chair back. “I’d better get going. I’ll be over later to take care of the lawn.”

His mom walked with him to the door. “Thanks, sweetie.” She kissed his cheek again. “And don’t worry about me. That’s my job.”

It was his job, too, now that his dad wasn’t around. Trying to ignore the heaviness in his chest, he returned to his cruiser. He couldn’t take away his mom’s or his own grief, but he could do whatever he could to make her life easier. She wasn’t like Michelle—alone with no one to defend her.

* * *

MICHELLE WOKE TO Hunter’s crying—a reassuring sound, since she had been having a dream in which he was lost and she couldn’t find him. She sat up on the side of her cot, groaning as pain radiated through her body, and the memory of last night returned, like a fresh blow. She put a hand to the tender, swollen flesh around her mouth, and carefully stood, then shuffled toward the crib.

The baby was soaking wet, so she changed him, then sat on the side of the cot once more to nurse him. She was weaning him, but right now she needed this closeness, giving him something only she could provide. Asteria was nowhere in sight—not surprising, since she spent most of her nights lately with Daniel Metwater. Michelle held her son closely and replayed the events of last night in her head.

She had been stupid to think Metwater wouldn’t lash out at her. Stupid to believe he would hand over the locket in exchange for her promise of silence. Not that she intended to keep that promise, but she was good at conning people. She had been doing it most of her life.

But Metwater was a con, too. He knew how the game was played. And now that he knew she was on to him, she would have to be careful. She would have to make sure Hunter stayed safe.

She brushed the hair from the baby’s forehead and he smiled up at her. Her heart clenched. Until she had had Hunter, she had had nothing—no one.

She slipped a hand into her pocket and felt the business card the Ranger had given her. Ethan. A high-class-sounding name. Someone named Ethan probably wouldn’t drop out of school or end up in jail for boosting cars or dealing drugs, the way the boys from her neighborhood did. Ethan went to college. He got a job upholding the law instead of breaking it.

Ethan didn’t look twice at Michelle Munson from the wrong side of town. But Ethan Reynolds had looked at her. She had stared into his eyes and felt that he was seeing her—not the cool, smart-talking tough girl role she had assumed before her age reached double digits, but the real her—the woman who had been hurt, who was fearful of a future she couldn’t control. Most of the time she forgot that woman even existed anymore, but somehow this cop had seen it.

The knowledge made her feel vulnerable—a sensation she didn’t like. She was the only person she could rely on to look after herself and her son. That meant she couldn’t let anyone make her feel helpless. Daniel Metwater controlled people by making them believe they weren’t capable of making the right choices for their lives. They needed him to make those choices for them—to control their money and tell them when to eat and what to think. When she had first come here, she was amazed at how many people were willing to give up everything to someone who promised to make them feel good.

The flap of the tent pushed open and Asteria ducked inside. She carried a cup of coffee and handed it to Michelle. “I thought you might need this,” she said.

“Yes. You’re a saint.” Michelle took the cup and drained a third of it in one long swallow. At least the Prophet hadn’t made them give up coffee, the way he had talked them into giving up meat two days a week and cell phones and movies, and she had lost track of how much else. If she hadn’t promised herself she would do whatever she had to in order to prove that Cass was murdered, she would have left this place a long time ago.

“How are you feeling?” Asteria sat on the cot beside her.

“A little sore.” She watched Asteria out of the corner of her eye as she spoke. She had to be careful here. She couldn’t afford to upset Metwater’s biggest fan. “That was some fall.”

“What were you doing at the Prophet’s trailer?” Asteria asked. “And don’t give me that lie about counseling.”

“Why don’t you believe I went to him for counseling?” Michelle asked.

“Because you’re not the counseling type. You don’t confide in people.”

No, she didn’t. And even if she did, she wouldn’t reveal anything personal to a man like Metwater. She didn’t want him to know so much as her shoe size, in case he could find a way to use it against her. “I went there to complain,” she said. “The men in this camp are lazy bums who don’t do their share of the work. He needs to put some of them on kitchen duty, instead of making us look after the children and prepare all the meals while they sit around and wait to be fed.” She had no trouble getting into this rant, since it was one she had voiced before. The other women agreed with her, but none of them were willing to do anything about it.