Undercover Husband

“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?”