The Ranger Brigade: Family Secrets

Andi—whose Family name was apparently Asteria—ducked her head and hurried out of the room. Metwater turned back to the Rangers. “What does any of this have to do with your missing infant?” he asked.

“Her aunt, Hannah Dietrich, came to us. She thinks her sister’s child is here in this camp,” Marco said. “She has legal custody of the baby and would like to assume that custody.”

“If she believes this child is here, she’s been misinformed,” Metwater said.

“Then you won’t mind if we look around,” Walt said.

“We have a number of children here in the camp,” Metwater said. “But none of them are the one you seek. I can’t allow you to disrupt and upset my followers this way. If you want to search the camp, you’ll have to get a warrant.”

“This child’s birth certificate lists you as the father,” Marco said.

Metwater smiled, a cold look that didn’t reach his eyes. “A woman can put anything she likes on a birth certificate,” he said. “That doesn’t make it true.”

“Are you the father of any of the children in the camp?” Walt asked.

“I am father to all my followers,” Metwater said.

“Is that how your followers—all these young women—see you?” Marco asked.

“My relationship to my disciples is a spiritual one,” Metwater said. He half turned away. “You must excuse me now. I hope you find this child, wherever she is.”

Walt’s eyes met Marco’s. The DEA agent jerked his head toward the door. “What do you think the odds are that his relationship with all these women is merely spiritual?” Walt asked once they were outside.

“About the same as the odds no one in this camp has a record or something they’d like to hide,” Marco said.

“It does seem like the kind of group that would attract people who are running away from something,” Walt said.

“Yeah. And everything Metwater says sounds like a lie to me,” Marco said. He turned to leave, but Walt put out a hand to stop him.

“Let’s talk to those women over there.” He nodded toward a group of women who stood outside a grouping of tents across the compound. One of them stirred a pot over an open fire, while several others tended small children.

“Good idea,” Marco said.

The women watched the Rangers’ approach with wary expressions. Walt zeroed in on an auburn-haired woman who cradled an infant. “Hi,” he said. “What’s your baby’s name?”

“Adore.” She stroked a wisp of hair back from the baby’s forehead.

“I think my niece is about that age,” Walt said. “How old is she? About three months, right?”

“He is five months old,” the woman said frostily, and turned away.

The other women silently gathered the children and went inside the tent, leaving Marco and Walt alone. “I guess she schooled you,” Marco said.

“Hey, it was worth a try.” He glanced around the camp, which was now empty. “What do we do now?”

“Let’s get out of here.” Marco led the way down the path back toward the parking area. They met no one on the trail, and the woods around them were eerily silent, with no birdsong or chattering of squirrels, or even wind stirring the branches of trees.

“Do you get the feeling we’re being watched?” Walt asked.

“I’m sure we are,” Marco said. “Metwater almost always has a guard or two watching the entrance to the camp.”

“For a supposedly peaceful, innocent bunch, they sure are paranoid,” Walt said. What did they have to fear in this remote location, and what did they have to protect?

Their FJ Cruiser with the Ranger Brigade emblem sat alone in the parking lot. Before they had taken more than a few steps toward it, Walt froze. “What’s that on the windshield?” he asked.

“It looks like a note.” Marco pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures, then they approached slowly, making a wide circle of the vehicle first.

Walt examined the ground for footprints, but the hard, dry soil showed no impressions. Marco took a few more close-up shots, and plucked the paper—which looked like a sheet torn from a spiral notebook—carefully by the edges. He read it, then showed it to Walt. The handwriting was an almost childish scrawl, the letters rounded and uneven, a mix of printing and cursive. “‘All the children here are well cared for and loved,’” he read. “‘No one needs to worry. Don’t cause us any trouble. You don’t know what you’re doing.’”

He looked at Marco. “What do you think?”

“I’m wondering if the same person who left the note also left that.” He gestured toward the driver’s door of the cruiser, from which hung a pink baby bonnet, ribbons hanging loose in the still air.

* * *

“I’M SURE THIS is the same bonnet that’s in the picture Emily sent me.” Hannah fingered the delicate pink ribbons, the tears she was fighting to hold back making her throat ache. “Whoever left this must have wanted to let us know that Joy is there and that she’s all right.” She looked into Walt Riley’s eyes, silently pleading for confirmation. The idea that anything might have happened to her niece was unbearable.

“We don’t know why the bonnet was left,” he said, his voice and his expression gentle. “But I agree that it looks very like the one in the picture you supplied us.”

“What will you do now?” She looked at the trio of concerned faces. Agent Cruz and their commander had once again joined Walt to interview her at Ranger headquarters. She had broken the speed limit on the drive from her hotel when Walt had called and asked her to stop by whenever it was convenient.

“We’re attempting to obtain a warrant to search the camp for your niece,” the commander said. “We’ve also contacted Child Welfare and Protection to see if they’ve had any calls about the camp and might know anything.”

That was it? When she had come to the Ranger office for help, she had expected them to immediately go with her to the Family’s camp and take the child. When they had insisted on visiting the camp alone, she had held on to the hope that they would return with Joy. But they had done nothing but talk and ask questions. They seemed more interested in paperwork than in making sure Joy was safely where she belonged. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” she asked. “Just sit and wait?” And worry.

“I’m sorry to say that’s all you can do right now,” Agent Riley said. “Rushing in there on your own won’t do anything but put Metwater and his people on the defensive. They might even leave the area.”

“Then you could stop them,” she said.

“On what grounds?” the commander asked. “So far we have no proof they’ve committed any crime.”

“They have a child who doesn’t belong to them, who isn’t related to them in any way. A helpless infant.” A child who was all she had left of her beloved sister.

“If they do have your niece, we don’t have any reason to think they’ve harmed her or intend to harm her.” Agent Riley reclaimed her attention with his calm voice and concerned expression. “The children we’ve seen in camp look well cared for, though we’ll verify that with CWP.”

“You’re right.” She clenched her hands in her lap and forced herself to take a deep breath. “Patience isn’t one of my strong suits.” Especially when it came to a baby. So much could go wrong, and could anyone who wasn’t family watch over her as carefully as Hannah would?

“Go back to your hotel now,” the commander said. “We’ll be in touch.” He and Agent Cruz left, leaving her alone with Agent Riley.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.

“You didn’t have to walk with me,” she said, after they had crossed the gravel lot to the compact car she had rented at the Montrose airport. A brisk wind sent dry leaves skittering over the gravel and tugged strands of hair from her updo. She brushed the hair from her eyes and studied him, trying to read the expression behind his dark sunglasses.

“I wanted to talk to you a little more. Away from the office.” He glanced back toward the low beige building that was Ranger headquarters. “Having to talk to a bunch of cops makes some people nervous.”

“As opposed to talking to only one cop.”

“Try to think of me as a guy who’s trying to help.”

“All right.” She crossed her arms over her stomach. “What do you want to know?”

“I’m trying to figure out what Daniel Metwater stands to gain by claiming your niece is his daughter,” he said. “Understanding people’s motives is often helpful in untangling a crime.”

“I imagine you know more about the man than I do. He’s been living in this area for what, almost a month now?”

“About that. Is it possible your sister listed him as Joy’s father without his knowledge?”

“Why would she do that?”

“You said she was one of his followers. He refers to himself as a father to his disciples. Maybe she was trying to honor that.”

She studied the ground at her feet, the rough aggregate of rocks and dirt in half a dozen shades of red and brown. She might have been standing on Mars, for all she felt so out of her depth. “I don’t know what my sister was thinking. As much as I loved her, I didn’t understand her. She lived a very different life.”

“Where do you live? I haven’t even asked.”

“Dallas. I’m a chemist.” The expression on his face almost made her laugh. “Never play poker, Agent Riley.”

“All right, I’ll admit I’m surprised,” he said. “I’ve never met a female chemist before. Come to think of it, I may never have met a chemist before.”

His grin, so boyish and almost bashful, made her heart skip a beat. She put her hand to her chest, as if to calm the irregular rhythm. “My job doesn’t put me in contact with very many law enforcement officers, either.” Impulsively, she reached out and touched his arm. “You’ll let me know the minute you know anything about Joy? Call me anytime—even if it’s the middle of the night.”

He covered her hand with his own. The warmth and weight of that touch seeped into her, steadying her even as it made her feel a little off balance. “I will,” he said. “And try not to worry. It may not seem like it, but we are doing everything we can to help you.”

“I want to believe that.” She pulled her hand away, pretending to fuss with the clasp of her handbag. “I’m used to being in charge, so it’s not always easy to let someone else take over.”

“Let us know if you think of anything that might be helpful.”

“I will.” They said goodbye and she got into her car and drove away. For the first time since coming to Colorado, she wasn’t obsessing over Joy and Emily and the agonizing uncertainty of her situation. Instead, she was remembering the way it felt when Agent Walt Riley put his hand on hers. They had connected, something that didn’t happen too often for her. She had come into this situation thinking she was the only one who could save her niece. Maybe she wasn’t quite so alone after all.

* * *

WALT SPENT EVERY spare moment over the next twenty-four hours working on Hannah’s case. Though he prided himself on being a hard worker, the memory of Hannah’s stricken face when he had last seen her drove him on. The afternoon of the second day, the Ranger team met to report on their various activities. Everyone was present except Montrose County sheriff’s deputy Lance Carpenter, who was on his honeymoon but expected back later in the week, and Customs and Border Protection agent Michael Dance, who was following up a lead in Denver. After listening to a presentation by veteran Ranger Randall Knightbridge on a joint effort with Colorado Parks and Wildlife to catch poachers operating in the park, and a report from Colorado Bureau of Investigation officer Carmen Redhorse on an unattended death in the park that was ruled a suicide, Walt stood to address his fellow team members.

After a brief recap of Hannah’s visit and his and Marco’s foray into Metwater’s camp, he consulted his notes. “I’ve gone over the documents Ms. Dietrich supplied us. We couldn’t lift any useful prints from the letter or the will. Nothing on the note that was left at the camp, or the bonnet, either. I contacted the Denver hospital where the baby was born—the hat isn’t one of theirs. They think the mother probably brought it with her, and they can’t give out any information on patients. We’re trying to reach the nurse who was one of the witnesses on Emily Dietrich’s will, Marsha Caldwell. She is reportedly living in Amsterdam now, where her husband recently transferred for work, but I haven’t gotten a response yet. We haven’t had any luck locating the other witness, Anna Ingels.”

“I talked to a contact at Child Welfare and Protection and she had nothing for me,” Carmen said. “They did send a social worker to visit the camp a couple of weeks after Metwater and his group arrived here, but they found no violations. They said all the children appeared to be well cared for.”

“And I don’t guess they noted any baby crawling around with no mother to claim her,” Ethan Reynolds, another of the new recruits to the Ranger Brigade, quipped.

“We got word a few minutes ago that the judge is denying our request for a warrant to search the camp,” Graham said.

The news rocked Walt back on his heels, as if he’d been punched. “What was their reasoning?” he asked.

“We didn’t present enough evidence to justify the search,” the captain said. “At least in their eyes. The judge feels—and this isn’t the first time I’ve heard this—that the Ranger Brigade’s continued focus on Metwater and his followers is tantamount to harassment.”

“This doesn’t come from us,” Randall said. “Ms. Dietrich came to us. She’s the one who made the accusations against Metwater. We weren’t harassing him. We were following up on her claim.”

“And we found nothing,” Graham said. He looked across the table and met Walt’s steady gaze. “As long as Metwater and his people deny the baby exists, our hands are tied. There’s nothing else we can do.”

Chapter Three

Protests rose from all sides of the conference table after Graham’s pronouncement. “We need to go back to the judge and try again,” Michael Dance said.

“I can talk to Child Welfare and Protection,” Carmen said. “Ask them to take another look.”

“Unless we have CWP on our side, we’re not going to get anywhere with this,” Randall Knightbridge said.

Walt raised his voice to be heard over the clamor. “There’s still something we can do, even without a warrant,” he said.

Conversation died and everyone turned to look at him. “What do you have in mind?” Marco asked.

“I think we should do what Hannah suggested and infiltrate the group.” Walt said.

“You mean, send someone in undercover to determine if the baby is really there?” Carmen asked.

“And maybe find out what really happened to the child’s mother,” Walt said. “Hannah said her sister was afraid for her life—maybe there’s more to this story that we need to find out.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Graham said. “I’ve thought of it before, if only to get a better sense of what Metwater is up to.”

“It could backfire, big time,” said Simon Woolridge, tech expert and Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent. “If Metwater figures out what we’re doing, he could take it to the press and gain a lot of traction with his claims that we’re harassing him.”

“He won’t find out,” Walt said. “Not if we do it right.”

“By ‘we’ you mean who?” Graham asked.

Walt squared his shoulders. “I could go,” he said. “I’ve done undercover work before.”

“They’d recognize you,” Marco said. “We were just at the camp this morning.”

“I’d dye my hair and grown out my beard, and dress differently. They wouldn’t recognize me as the lawman they saw one time.”

“How are you going to know you found the right baby?” Carmen asked.

“Hannah Dietrich could come with me. I could say she’s my sister.”

“That won’t work,” Simon said. “You two don’t look anything alike.”

“Say she’s your wife,” Randall said. “From what we’ve seen, couples sometimes join Metwater’s Family together.”

“I could do that,” Walt said. “If she agrees.”

“You heard her,” Marco said. “She’ll do anything to save her niece.”

“Talk to her,” Graham said. “See what she says. But she has to agree to follow your lead and proceed with caution. And if you get in there and learn there’s a real danger, you get out. No heroics.”

“Yes, sir.” He didn’t want to be a hero. He only wanted to make things right for Hannah and her niece.

* * *

HANNAH HAD LOST the plot thread of the movie playing on the television in her hotel room an hour ago, but she left it on, grateful at least for the background noise that helped to make the room a little less forlorn. She glanced toward the porta-crib and the diaper bag in the corner of the room and felt a tight knot in her chest. Had she been naive to believe she would be bringing Joy back here last night, before heading back home to Dallas today? Now she was trapped in this awful limbo, not knowing when—or even if—she would see her niece.

A knock on the door startled her. She punched the remote to shut off the TV and moved to the door. A glimpse through the peephole showed Walt Riley, dressed not in his khaki uniform, but in jeans and a white Western-cut shirt. With trembling hands, she unfastened the security chain and opened the door. “Has something happened?” she asked. “Do you have news?”

“Hello, Ms. Dietrich,” he said. “Can I come in? There are some things we need to talk about.”

“All right.” She stepped back and let him walk past her into the room. She caught the scent of him as he passed—not cologne, but a mixture of starch and leather that seemed imminently masculine.

He crossed the small room and sat in the only chair. She perched on the edge of the bed, her stomach doing nervous somersaults. “Were you able to get the warrant to search the camp?” she asked.

“No.” He rested his hands on his knees. Large hands, bronzed from working in the sun, with short nails and no jewelry. “The judge didn’t feel we had sufficient grounds to warrant a search. Metwater has complained we’re harassing him, and the court is taking that complaint seriously.”

“What about Child Welfare and Protection? Would they support you? Or go to the camp to look for Joy?”

He shook his head. “CWP says there aren’t any problems at the camp. They would have no reason to be there.”

She felt as if she had swallowed an anvil. The weight of it pressed her down on the bed. “What am I going to do now?” she asked.

“We’ve come up with a plan.”

She leaned toward him. “What is it?”

“It’s your plan, really. We’ll send two people in, posing as a husband and wife who are interested in joining the Family. That will give us the opportunity to determine, first, if there is even an infant matching the description of your niece in the camp, and if her mother is there or not. We also hope to determine the circumstances surrounding your sister’s death.”

“I want to go. I want to be the woman.”

“We’re not talking a quick overnight visit,” he said. “It could take weeks to gain their trust and learn anything of real value.”

“I’ve taken a leave of absence from my job. I have however much time it takes.”

“You said you’re a chemist? Is your employer willing to let you off work indefinitely?”

“I’m very good at my job and I’ve been there a long time. I have savings and not many expenses. And when Joy comes to live with me, I intend to take family leave to spend time with her.” She hoped that would give her enough time to adjust to being a mother—something she had never planned on being, but now wanted more desperately than she had wanted almost anything. “I want to do this, Agent Riley. I want to help find my niece.”

“If you do this, you have to agree to follow the direction of the male agent who would be posing as your husband,” he said. “You can’t take any action without his knowledge and you have to agree to abide by his decisions.”

She stiffened. “I’m not used to other people making decisions for me.”

“Obviously not. But in this case it would be vital. As law enforcement officers, we’re trained to put together a case against someone that will stand up in court. If Daniel Metwater and his followers have kidnapped your niece, or if they had anything to do with your sister’s death, we want to be sure we can build a solid case against them that will lead to a conviction.”

What he said made sense, and she had always been good at following rules, as long as she saw a good reason for them. “All right. I can respect that,” she said. “Who is the male agent?”

“That would be me.”

She sat back a little, letting the words sink in. Relief that she wouldn’t have to work with a stranger warred with the definite attraction that shimmered between them. She didn’t need to be distracted right now. She had to focus on Joy, and the future they were going to have together. But what choice did she have? If she refused to work with Walt Riley just because she could imagine sleeping with him, wasn’t she being foolish, and maybe even a coward? They were two adults. Surely they could control themselves. In any case, he had given no indication that he felt the same attraction to her. “All right,” she said. “What do we do next?”

“Why don’t we start by going out to dinner?”

Yet again, this man had caught her off guard. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“If we’re going to pass ourselves off as husband and wife, we need to know more about each other and get comfortable in each other’s presence.”

He was right, of course. “All right.”

He stood and held out his hand. When she took it, he pulled her up beside him. “Why don’t you start by calling me Walt?”

“All right. Walt.” It wasn’t so hard here, in the intimacy of her hotel room, to think of him by his first name. A simple and strong name, like the man himself. “You should call me Hannah.”

“It’s a nice name.”

“I think so. I don’t understand why so many of Metwater’s followers feel compelled to take new names.”

“It could be the symbolism of starting over, taking on a new identity,” he said. “It’s also a convenient way to make yourself harder to track down if you’re wanted for a crime, or have something else in your past that you don’t want to come out.” He held the door as she walked through, then followed her outside. “Did your sister take a new name when she joined the group?”

“I don’t know. She never mentioned it.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I feel terrible that I don’t know more about what my sister was doing in the last months of her life. A year ago, I would have said I knew her well, but so many times now, she feels like a stranger to me. It’s depressing. You’d think if you could know anyone well, it would be a sibling.”

“I think we’re most surprised when family members behave in unexpected ways,” he said. “It feels more personal, I guess. More like a betrayal.”

“Yes.” He opened the passenger-side door to his Cruiser and she climbed inside. He put a hand on her shoulder, as if making sure she was safely settled before he shut the door behind her. Again, she felt that current of connection with him. She hadn’t felt anything like that—or rather, she hadn’t allowed herself to feel it—for a very long time. Maybe losing Emily had made her more vulnerable. Or finding Joy. So many things in her life felt out of control these days, it shouldn’t have surprised her that her emotions would betray her, too.

* * *

THERE WERE DEFINITELY worse ways to spend an evening than sitting across the table from a beautiful woman, Walt thought, once he and Hannah had settled into a booth at a local Italian place. More than one male head had turned to watch Hannah walk across the room, though maybe only Walt saw the fatigue and worry that lurked in her sapphire-blue eyes. He wished he had the power to take that worry and fatigue away from her.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said, once they had placed their orders. “How long have you lived in Dallas?”

“Ten years. I took the job there after I got my master’s at Rice University in Houston.”

“So you’re beautiful and brilliant. I’m already out of my league.”