Undercover Husband

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.”

She sipped her iced tea and regarded him over the rim of the glass. “I don’t know about that.”

“Trust me, it’s true,” he said. “I have a bachelor’s degree from the University of New Mexico and was solidly in the middle of my class. And while I’m sure there are a few professions less glamorous than law enforcement, patrolling the backcountry of public lands is about as far away from a corporate suite as you can get.”

“Your job doesn’t sound boring, though.”

“You might be surprised how boring it can be sometimes. But mostly, it is interesting.”

“What drew you to the work?” She relaxed back against the padded booth, some of the tension easing from around her eyes.

“I like the independence, and I like solving puzzles. And maybe this sounds corny, but I like correcting at least some of the injustice in the world. It’s a good feeling when you put away a smuggler or a poacher or a murderer.” His eyes met hers. “Or a kidnapper.”

She rearranged her silverware. “Do you think this will work? Our pretending to want to join up with them?”

“It’s the best way I can think of to learn what really goes on in their camp. I figure you can get to know the women—especially the mothers with children. I can talk to the men. We might be able to find Anna Ingels—the woman who witnessed your sister’s will. If your niece is there, someone will know it and eventually they’ll let something slip.”

The waiter delivered their food—ravioli for Walt, fish for her. They ate in silence for a moment, then she said, “Have you done anything like this before?”

“You mean undercover work?” He stabbed at a pillow of ravioli. “A couple of times. I posed as a big-game hunter to bring down a group of poachers. And I did a few drug buys, things like that.”

“Did you ever have to pretend to be married to someone?”