Missing In Blue Mesa

“We’ll spread out and check things out,” Marco said.

“I’ll see if Metwater is home,” Ethan said. He headed for the motor home and rapped on the door. It opened quickly. Asteria scowled at him. “If you’re looking for the Prophet, he’s not here,” she said. “He’s with the others, searching for Hunter.” She frowned at Michelle. “Why did you bring the cops here? Why aren’t you searching for your boy?”

Michelle shoved past Asteria, into the motor home. “Was Hunter here?” she asked. “Did you see him?”

Asteria looked confused. “What do you mean? Of course he wasn’t here.”

“Daniel Metwater threatened to hurt him,” Michelle said. “He was near the shower shack before I went in. He must have seen his chance and snatched my baby to frighten me.”

Asteria took a step back until she was pressed against the wall. “You need to leave,” she said. “The Prophet told us you were crazy and I didn’t want to believe him, but I see it’s true.”

Ethan put his hand on Michelle’s shoulder—she practically vibrated with anger, and he was sure if he hadn’t been there to hold her back she would have launched herself at Asteria. “Where is Metwater now?” he asked.

Asteria didn’t take her eyes off Michelle as she answered, “He and the others are searching the woods just outside camp past the shower shack. We thought Hunter might have wandered into there—he’s barely crawling, so he couldn’t have gone far.”

“Let’s go.” Ethan led Michelle toward the door. “Maybe they’ve found something.”

That bit of hope got her moving. But when they were outside, she glanced over her shoulder, back toward the motor home. “She would lie for him,” she said. “But I can’t believe she would do anything to harm Hunter. She loved him.”

“Maybe she really doesn’t know anything.” He put a hand at her back. “Show me this shower shack.”

She led him across the clearing, past a cluster of tents, to another narrow path that cut through thick underbrush. Halfway along, she stopped. “Metwater threatened me here,” she said, halting a few dozen yards down the path, where trees closed in on either side. “He must have cut through the underbrush and been waiting for me.”

“Did he follow you after he talked to you?” Ethan asked.

“He started walking back toward camp, but he could have turned around when he was out of sight.”

They continued to a wooden hut, open at the top except for a platform, on which sat a blue plastic barrel. The door to the hut was open A bearded young man was inside, painting the walls a light blue-gray. “What are you doing?” Michelle demanded.

He stopped in mid-brushstroke. “The Prophet told me to paint in here,” he said.

“Why aren’t you out searching with everyone else?” she asked.

“He told me it was more important to paint.”

“Were there any paint marks on the walls before you started?” Ethan asked. The young man must have been working for a while—all four walls were mostly coated with paint.

The man scratched his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t pay any attention. Anyway, I’m almost finished.”

Ethan nudged Michelle. “Let’s find Metwater,” he said. He could hear voices now, perhaps a sign the searchers were nearby.

“That’s the same color paint that was dumped on me,” she said. “Metwater must have ordered it painted to hide the evidence.”

“Maybe.” The voices grew louder and they emerged into a second clearing, this one empty of dwellings, but full of people. Ethan spotted Metwater right away—with his long, dark hair and all-white clothing, he stood out amidst his ragtag group of followers. “Metwater, I want to talk to you,” he called.

Metwater raised his head and fixed his gaze first on Michelle. Ethan couldn’t read his expression. When his gaze shifted to Ethan, Metwater looked calm—too calm. “I understand a child went missing from camp,” Ethan said as he and Michelle approached the self-appointed Prophet.

“His mother reported him missing,” Metwater said. “We haven’t found any sign of foul play—and no sign of the child.”

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