A cult, a missing infant... And a fearless lawman

To prove her sister’s murder, Michelle Munson infiltrates the cult led by “Prophet” Daniel Metwater. Having endured a tough life in foster care, she’s fiercely independent and distrustful of police. But when her baby disappears, she knows she’s come too close to learning Metwater’s secrets, and turns to Ranger Ethan Reynolds for justice. Facing down harrowing danger in Colorado’s wilderness, the resolute lawman fights to protect Michelle...and open her heart.

The Ranger Brigade: Family Secrets

CINDI MYERS is the author of more than fifty novels. When she’s not crafting new romance plots, she enjoys skiing, gardening, cooking, crafting and daydreaming. A lover of small-town life, she lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in the Colorado mountains.

Also available by Cindi Myers

Murder in Black Canyon

Undercover Husband

Manhunt on Mystic Mesa

Soldier’s Promise

The Guardian

Lawman Protection

Colorado Bodyguard

Black Canyon Conspiracy

Rocky Mountain Revenge

Rocky Mountain Rescue

Visit millsandboon.co.uk for more information

Missing in Blue Mesa

Cindi Myers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07858-0

MISSING IN BLUE MESA

© 2018 Cynthia Myers

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

For Vicki

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Author Bio

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Extract

Chapter One

She didn’t have much time. No more than twenty minutes—probably less. No telling what would happen if he caught her in here. Everyone said he wasn’t like his brother, but how could they be sure? The two were twins—identical twins. If one of them was a murderer, who was to say the other one wasn’t capable of that, too?

Michelle jammed the piece of wire into the keyhole on the door to the motor home again and felt the catch give. She could thank Mom for that particular skill. How many times had she locked little Michelle out of their trailer while she was entertaining her boyfriend, or when she was sick of the kid? Then she’d get drunk and forget to let her back in.

Or that was what she said.

Better to thank Joey Staskavitch for teaching her how to pick the lock to get back in on her own. She wondered whatever happened to Joey. He was probably in jail, or dead. That was where most of the boys from her neighborhood had ended up.

Starfall—her real name was Michelle Munson, though nobody here knew that—pushed open the door to Daniel Metwater’s motor home and stepped into the darkened living room. The noise from the festivities in the center of the encampment faded, though orange light from the bonfire cast grasping shadows across the walls and furniture. “Prophet” Daniel Metwater was dancing around the bonfire, leading his followers in mesmerizing chanting. They loved it. They could listen for hours to their Prophet’s words about how they were special and better. Most of them had never been special to or better than anyone, but he made them believe it.

Michelle tiptoed across the room, headed for the back of the motor home, and Metwater’s bedroom. That was where he would keep anything private. Anything he didn’t want his adoring followers to know about.

The bedroom door, at least, wasn’t locked. No one but his closest disciples were allowed in here—and the women he bedded, who considered it a privilege to sleep with the Prophet. Michelle wasn’t one of those women. He had tried to seduce her when she first joined his little cult, but she’d put him off with a chilling stare. The gorgeous Daniel Metwater, like his twin, David, wasn’t used to being turned down, but he must have seen something in her that made him wary, because after that he left her alone.

Alert for any sounds outside the room, she eased open the top dresser drawer and riffled through the contents. She worked quickly, passing over the clothing and toiletries. The bedside table held only books and sex toys. She wrinkled her nose. Not going to go there. She shut the drawer and hurried to the closet. Dropping to her knees, she felt along the floor and the back wall. That was where she would stick a safe, but all she encountered was two pairs of shoes and a pile of dirty clothes.

After glancing over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone, she flicked on the penlight she had tucked into the pocket of her jeans and swept the beam along the floor and up the walls. Nothing interesting there. Frowning, she rose. Where was the locket? Her tent mate, Asteria, Metwater’s “secretary” and the person closest to him, had described it in such detail. “Gold, with a pear-shaped diamond in the center that is at least two carats,” Asteria had said. She would know. Before hooking up with Metwater, she had been Andi Matheson, wealthy socialite and only daughter of a high-profile senator. She had seen her share of two-carat diamonds, though she claimed to now prefer the simple, nonmaterialistic life of following the Prophet through the wilderness. Right. Only people who had spent all their life around money could make a spiritual discipline out of giving it up.

“It looked old,” Andi had said about the locket. “He said it was a family heirloom. He plans to give it to the baby after she’s born.” She had cradled her eight-months-pregnant belly and smiled. “To think that he loves her so much already that he’d want to give her something so valuable.”

Michelle had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from pointing out that Daniel Metwater didn’t love anyone but himself. The locket was an heirloom, all right—but not from his family. Michelle’s foster sister, Cass, had inherited the necklace from her grandmother. She had been wearing it the night she was murdered by David Metwater.

Michelle left the closet and returned to the front room. She should have asked Asteria about a desk. Metwater probably had one, and maybe he kept the locket there. Maybe he had other things that had belonged to his brother, too—papers or a diary or anything Michelle might be able to use to prove that David had killed Cass.

The police said Cass had died of an accidental heroin overdose, but that wasn’t true. She didn’t do drugs. The night before she died, she had confided to Michelle that she had learned some things about her new boyfriend, David, that upset her. “I’m going to confront him,” she said. “I need to know the truth.”

The truth was, David Metwater had murdered Cass so that whatever she had learned about him wouldn’t get out.

Michelle spotted the desk between the living and dining areas—a built-in shelf with a couple of drawers. A laptop sat open on the shelf, and her fingers itched to take it. She’d probably find all kinds of interesting information on that...

She shook her head. Too risky. She had come here for the locket, and time was running out. The drums outside had quieted, which meant the evening “services” were winding down. She pulled open the desk’s center drawer and swept the beam of the penlight over the contents—paper clips, pencils, pens, business cards, a tube of lip balm—no locket. She shut the drawer and was reaching for another when light flooded the room. She froze, heart hammering painfully, unable to breathe.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Daniel Metwater demanded.

Michelle turned to face him, but before she could reply, he crossed the room in four strides and grabbed her by the shoulders. His normally handsome face was a mask of rage. He shook her so hard she bit her tongue, tasting blood. I’m dead, she thought, as she stared into his cold, hard eyes. I’ll never see my son again.

* * *

SPECIAL AGENT ETHAN REYNOLDS, FBI, stared down at the collection of half a dozen battered metal license plates arranged on the conference table at the headquarters of the Ranger Brigade, the multi-agency task force he was attached to. Before joining the Rangers, who were responsible for dealing with crime on the vast stretches of federal land in southwestern Colorado, Ethan had never realized how many criminals operated in the relatively deserted interior of national parks, wilderness preserves and protected recreation areas.

“You’ve verified these are all from stolen cars?” he asked his fellow agent, Immigration and Customs Enforcement Officer Simon Woolridge.

“Every one,” Simon said. “A wildlife biologist with the Forest Service found them in an abandoned badger den near the end of Redvale Road. The Forest Service laid down a traffic counter on that road a couple of weeks ago and noticed heavier-than-expected traffic, so they were on the lookout for anything unusual.”

“That’s right about when this latest rash of thefts started,” Ethan said. “So the thieves take the stolen cars to that remote area and strip the plates—then what?”

“Replace them with new tags,” Simon said. “Probably forged dealer tags. They could print those up on any laser printer. Then they wait until dark and drive them out again, to a chop shop or even straight to Mexico.”

“Then we need to stake out the site and grab them when they show up again,” Ethan said.

“Unless they’ve moved on to a different location,” Simon said. “The heavy rains two days ago washed out the road pretty badly. It doesn’t look as if anyone has been up there since that storm. My guess is they’re still in the area, but they’ve relocated.”

Ethan glanced toward the large map of the Rangers’ territory that filled one wall of the conference room. “How do we find that location?”

“We’ve alerted the park Rangers and the Forest Service, and anyone else who’s likely to be in the area to be on the lookout for cars with dealer tags and anything meeting the description of the stolen vehicles,” Simon said. He stabbed a finger at a point on the map. “The biologist found the license plates here. Does the location make you think of anything?”

“It’s very near Daniel Metwater’s camp at the base of Mystic Mesa.” Ethan nodded to the red flag someone had positioned on the map. Metwater, scion of a wealthy industrialist and self-styled Prophet, had finagled a long-term camping permit for himself and roughly twenty followers in the Curecanti National Recreation area.

“It’s less than ten miles by road,” Simon said. “You could travel between the two sites over a network of old logging roads without ever having to risk being seen on the highway.”

“That doesn’t mean Metwater or any of his people had anything to do with the car thefts,” Ethan said.

“No, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t,” Simon said. “I find it interesting how many recent crimes have a connection to that bunch.”

“Metwater would point out that he’s never been convicted of a crime,” Ethan said. Not that he didn’t agree with Simon. He had made a study of cults as part of his FBI training and he knew that groups like Metwater’s attracted the disaffected and disenfranchised. Some people in the group would have less respect for laws and authority. A certain smaller percentage would be criminally dangerous.

“My mother thinks I never swear,” Simon said. “That doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Do you plan on questioning Metwater?” Ethan asked.

“I thought we should drive over to his camp tonight and see if anyone is missing—someone who might be out boosting cars in the dark.”

“I like the way you think,” Ethan said. He hadn’t been to the camp in a few weeks. The Rangers were under orders not to harass Metwater and his followers, though each side had different definitions of what constituted harassment. Metwater felt the presence of any member of the Ranger Brigade anywhere near his camp infringed on his rights to live as he pleased. The Rangers contended Metwater and his followers were potential witnesses to any of the many crimes that occurred on public lands, by virtue of being the only people living in the area.

They took Simon’s FJ Cruiser, heading out of the national park and into the adjacent Curecanti National Recreation Area, toward the distinctive mesa where Metwater had made his camp. Forty minutes later Simon parked the cruiser between a rusting pickup and a doorless Jeep in the lot outside Metwater’s camp. He switched off the headlights, and inky blackness closed around them. The moon hadn’t yet risen, and though what looked like a million stars sparkled overhead, they didn’t give much light. The two men waited a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Ethan breathed in deeply the scents of sagebrush and wood smoke. “Ready?” Simon asked.

“Ready.”

They made their way up a narrow path toward the camp. Something skittered into the underbrush to Ethan’s left and he flinched, hand on the butt of the Glock on his hip, then forced himself to relax when he realized it was only an animal—maybe a fox or a raccoon. Voices drifted to them as they neared the camp. They emerged into a clearing surrounded by more than a dozen trailers, tents and cobbled-together shacks. The remains of a bonfire glowed in a stone-lined pit in the center of the area, and the shadows of adults and children flitted about the dwellings, voices rising at the officers’ approach.

Metwater lived in the large, modern motor home at one end of the camp. A pregnant young woman with long blond hair emerged from the white tent next to the motor home, a flashlight in one hand. Ethan recognized Andi Matheson, a former socialite and senator’s daughter, who had taken the name Asteria when she moved in with Metwater.

“Miss Matheson.”

She jerked her head up when Simon addressed her, and froze. “Is something wrong, Officers?” she asked.

“Just a routine patrol.” Simon stopped in front of her, his lanky frame towering over her.

“At this time of night?” she asked, her expression angry.

“People think they can get away with things with the darkness to hide them,” Simon said. “We like to catch them by surprise.”

“You won’t find anyone trying to get away with anything here.” She tried to move around him, but he took a step to the side, blocking her.

“So everyone is tucked tight in their beds?” Simon asked. “No one missing?”

“I don’t keep track of everyone.” She darted around him and walked past Ethan. The two men turned and followed her to the motor home. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked at them. “You can’t see the Prophet without an appointment,” she said.

“We know Mr. Metwater is always happy to cooperate with an investigation,” Simon said. Did Asteria note the sarcasm in his voice?

“What investigation?” she asked.

“Have you seen any strange cars around camp?” Ethan asked. “Newer models? Anybody in the group get a new ride recently?”

“No. What is this about?”

“Maybe Metwater will know.” Ethan had started to move past her when the door burst open and a woman stumbled out. She caught her foot on the top step and fell—right into Ethan’s arms.

He staggered under the impact, but managed to stay upright and hold on to the woman. She stared up at him, eyes wide and full of terror, dark, curly hair a tangle around her sharp-featured face. Blood trickled from one corner of her mouth.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Ethan spoke softly. “What happened?”

The terror in her eyes didn’t abate. “Help me,” she whispered, before slipping into unconsciousness.

Chapter Two

Michelle fought past the fog that surrounded her, struggling back into consciousness. She had to flee or something terrible would happen. She opened her eyes and stared into the face of a man she didn’t know. A new wave of fear revved her heart and she tried to pull away from him.

“Shh. It’s okay.” His voice was soft, his hands gentle, even as he continued to hold her arm. “Look at me,” he said. “My name is Ethan. Ethan Reynolds. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She stared into moss-green eyes so full of compassion and tenderness, tears burned at the back of her throat. She never cried. Crying was a sign of weakness and she couldn’t afford to be weak. Especially not now.

She pushed herself into a sitting position on the cot where she had been lying, though he kept one hand on her arm, steadying her. They were in the tent she shared with Asteria. Someone had lit the big oil lamp that hung from a post in the center of the room, a wavering circle of yellow light shining down on them. She had only a vague memory of rushing out of the motor home and falling... A fresh shudder of terror rocked her at the recollection.

“You must have hurt your head when you fell,” Asteria said. She sat on the cot beside Michelle and pressed a wet washrag to the side of her face.

Michelle winced as pain radiated across her cheek and jaw. “I don’t remember,” she lied.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the man, Ethan. He had released his hold on her and moved to sit at the end of the cot. He had short, dark hair and good shoulders that filled out his khaki uniform shirt in a way she would have admired if she had been less distracted. As it was, he studied her with an intensity that sent a tremor through her. His eyes reflected compassion, but danger, too. “You didn’t fall,” he said. “Someone hit you. Was it Daniel Metwater?”

She closed her eyes, but she couldn’t shut out the memory of Daniel Metwater’s handsome face twisted in rage, his fists slamming into her over and over, pummeling her toward the door. He had demanded to know why she was in his trailer and she had foolishly blurted the truth. “I want the locket,” she said. “Cass’s locket. I know you have it.”

After that she had been sure he would beat her to death. What if he came after her again? The thought made her stomach flip.

“The Prophet would never hurt anyone,” Asteria protested. She stood, the damp cloth she had been holding to Michelle’s face landing on the rug beside the cot with a soft plop. “He doesn’t believe in violence.”

“Tell anyone about this and you’re dead.” Metwater’s parting words came back to Michelle. “You’ll go out for a walk one day and no one will ever see you again. Mention that locket again and your son will die. You’ll never see him again.”

Part of her had been as naive as Asteria, believing Metwater would never hit her. She had been so wrong. “Hunter!” Suddenly frantic, she looked around for the child. “Where is Hunter?”

“He’s right here.” Michelle hadn’t realized that a fourth person was in the room, another in the circle of women who had been drawn to Metwater. Sarah stepped forward, the smiling little boy in her arms. He held out his chubby arms to Michelle and she gathered him close, burying her nose against his neck and inhaling that sweet baby smell.

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

They were supposed to only use their Family names with the cops. It was one of Metwater’s rules. “You have a new identity now,” he had preached. “The police don’t need to know anything about your past.” She was done with obeying his rules.

“It’s Michelle,” she said. “Michelle Munson.”

Ethan stood and began pacing. He stopped in front of her, taller than she had thought before, radiating masculine power and suppressed anger—anger not at her but on her behalf. “Did Daniel Metwater hit you?” he asked again.

She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Hunter’s face. He was the only good thing that had ever happened to her and she would do anything to protect him. “I fell,” she said.

Ethan pressed his lips together, clearly not pleased with her answer. “If he hit you, I can arrest him and charge him with assault.”

And he would be back in camp before lunchtime tomorrow. Daniel Metwater had plenty of money to pay a top lawyer. He would come back, and he would make sure Michelle paid for her betrayal. She raised her eyes to meet Ethan’s, her gaze steady, giving away nothing. “The Prophet doesn’t believe in violence,” she said.

“What were you doing at the Prophet’s place, anyway?” Asteria asked. “You were supposed to be at the fire circle with the rest of us.”

Did Ethan hear the fear behind the question? Asteria worried she was losing her position as the Prophet’s favorite.

“I went to him for counseling,” Michelle said, though she knew the answer wouldn’t ease Asteria’s fears. Daniel Metwater sometimes “counseled” young women in his bed. He had never pretended to be faithful to Asteria, or to anyone else, but the poor girl apparently couldn’t stop hoping.

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.

Most of the tension went out of Asteria’s shoulders. “You shouldn’t bother him with something like that,” she said. “Not late at night.”

“It wasn’t that late.” She shifted Hunter to her other arm and took another drink of coffee. “Anyway, he wasn’t there.”

“If he wasn’t there, why did you go inside?”

“The door was unlocked. I only stepped into the living room and called for him. I mean, it wasn’t like I was going to go into his bedroom or anything.” She held her breath, hoping Asteria would believe her.

“So you didn’t see him at all?”

“No. I waited a few seconds, then turned and left. I must have caught my foot on the step on my way out.” The cop, Ethan, hadn’t believed that lame story for even a minute, but Asteria was buying it the way the former socialite would once have snagged a coveted designer gown in her size.

“Did you see anyone else?” Asteria asked. “Either in the motor home or on your way there?”

Someone else? That was an interesting development. “Who?” she asked.

“Did you see Sunshine?”

“Sunshine?” Starfall tried and failed to match a face to that name.

“The girl who’s been hanging around lately.”

Ah! The girl who had been shamelessly flirting with Metwater. Starfall saw where this was going now. “No, I didn’t see her,” she said. She hadn’t seen anyone but Metwater and his fist.

“I knew those Rangers were lying,” Asteria said. “They told me that when they questioned the Prophet about what had happened to you, he told them he was with Sunshine. They were just trying to upset me so that I would tell lies about the Prophet.”

If you’re sleeping with a guy, it’s probably okay to call him by his first name, Michelle thought, but she kept quiet. Asteria—the former Andi Matheson—had bought Metwater’s line about being a holy seer one hundred percent. She was his favorite follower—and also his wealthiest—and she couldn’t even see the connection between his favoritism and her money. “What kind of lies did they want you to tell?” she asked.

“That he hit you. Which is ridiculous, because you know how much he hates violence.”

Right. “I’ve heard him say several times that he hates violence,” she agreed. Though he had had no trouble trying to beat her brains in last night. She still wasn’t sure how she had managed to break free and run for the door. If the two Rangers hadn’t been standing right outside, would he have pursued her and maybe even killed her?

She set down her coffee mug, suddenly sick to her stomach. “I need to take a shower,” she said. Some of the men had built a shower shack at the other end of camp. Water came from a plastic barrel that sat on top of the shack. The sun heated the water, and the plastic showerhead had an on-off switch that allowed the person showering to control the flow. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it wasn’t bad.

“Do you want me to watch Hunter while you do that?” Asteria asked.

“That’s okay. I’ll take him in with me.” Hunter liked to sit on the floor and play in the puddles that collected around her feet. Until she was sure she was safe, she wasn’t going to let the baby out of her sight.

She finished the coffee, then collected a towel, soap and shampoo, and picked up Hunter. “Let’s go take a shower, buddy,” she said, bouncing him on her hip. He giggled, dimples forming on either side of his mouth. Smiling in return, she headed toward the shower shack.

She had just turned onto the path to the shower when Daniel Metwater stepped out in front of her. She stumbled to a halt, heart racing, searching for a way out. But the woods grew close to the path on either side and Metwater blocked the way forward. She could turn and run, but he might be able to catch her.

She stood, frozen, as he approached and put a hand on her shoulder. “I heard you had a bad fall,” he said, gaze focused on her bruises. “Are you all right?”

The absurdity of his words, and the false concern in his voice, shocked her out of her fear. She stumbled back, wrenching away from him. “No, I am not all right.” She checked to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them. “And I didn’t fall. You and I both know it.”

“As long as no one else knows.” He wrapped his hand around Hunter’s arm. Now if she tried to pull away, the baby would be hurt. “I meant what I told you,” he said. “If you want Hunter to stay safe, you won’t say a word about this—or about that locket—to anyone.”

She wanted to spit in his face—to tell him that she was going to expose his brother as a murderer and him as a fraud. But she couldn’t do that. She had to protect her son, and find a way to keep them both safe until she could get the proof she needed. “I know how to keep my mouth shut,” she said. “I haven’t told anyone about what I know, and I’ve been here for months.”

“Make sure you don’t.”

She left, wanting to run but forcing herself to walk. She could feel his gaze boring into her back all the way to the shower shack, and when she reached the shack and glanced back, he was still watching, the hatred in his expression making her tremble all the way to her toes.

* * *

SUNSHINE HARTFORD VIBRATED like a terrified rabbit. Her left leg bounced and her upper lip twitched as she stared, wide-eyed, at the trio of officers gathered around her at Ranger Brigade Headquarters. Ethan and Agent Carmen Redhorse had picked her up at her apartment in Montrose and brought her in for questioning, thinking if they could rattle her a little she would be more likely to confess the truth.

But Ethan hadn’t intended to frighten her so badly she couldn’t speak. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Miss Hartford,” he tried to reassure her. “You haven’t done anything wrong. We only want your help in drawing a clear picture of what happened last night at Daniel Metwater’s motor home.”

“A woman was injured.” Carmen leaned toward the young woman, her voice soft but firm. “You can help us find who hurt her.”

“I... I was with the Prophet,” she stammered. “You saw me there.”

“How long had you been with him?” Ethan asked.

“He told you. We had been there an hour.”

“Yes, that’s what he told us, but that can’t be right, can it?” Ethan tried to keep his tone conversational, nonaccusatory. “Was the bonfire even over that long?”

She squirmed like a kid who had to go to the bathroom. “I didn’t have a watch with me.”

“Did you hear or see anyone else in the motor home while you were there?” Ethan asked. “Maybe someone in another room?”

She shook her head. “No. When you’re with the Prophet, it’s as if no one else is around.”

Out of view of Sunshine, Carmen rolled her eyes. “Did he say anything to you about anyone else?” Ethan asked. “Did he mention anyone by name?”

“He said if I saw Asteria, I had to pretend I hadn’t been with him,” she said.

“And you were okay with that?” Carmen asked. “Lying to another woman?”

“It wouldn’t be lying, exactly,” Sunshine said. “And I would be obeying the Prophet. You can’t be a good disciple if you aren’t obedient.”

A classic manipulator’s line, Ethan thought.

“Did you know that lying to the police is against the law?” Ethan asked.

“The Prophet answers to the highest law. I’m sure he wouldn’t ask me to do anything harmful.”

“So you admit you’re lying,” Ethan said.

Her expression clouded. “I haven’t seen or spoken to Asteria,” she said. “So I haven’t had to lie about anything.”

“What about how much time you spent with Metwater?” Carmen asked. “Are you lying about that?”

She wrinkled her nose, and her voice took on a strident edge. “I told you—I don’t wear a watch. I wasn’t keeping track of the time. He said it was an hour, so it must be an hour.”

“All right,” Ethan said. “Take me through the sequence of events last night. When did you arrive at camp?”

“The fire circle is always at dusk, so I got to the camp a little before—about eight thirty.”

“What next?”

“I walked into camp. The bonfire was going and a lot of Family members were already there. I found some women I knew and stood with them. We waited about fifteen minutes and then the Prophet came out.” A smile transformed her from sulky teen to beautiful woman. “He was wearing a loincloth and had painted his face. He was beautiful.”

“And he does what at these fire circles?” Every cult had its rituals. The researcher in Ethan was curious about Metwater’s rituals.

“First, he gave us a message about how we should live. He talked about sharing—about how the rest of the world lives in an economy based on hoarding, but in the Family, everyone shares, and that makes everyone better off, instead of only a few people.”

Carmen made a snorting noise. Sunshine gave her a sharp look. “Go on,” Carmen said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“After the message, the drummers started up, and the Prophet led us in a chant. Then he began to dance. It was mesmerizing.”

“What do the rest of you do while he dances?” Ethan asked.

“We chant. And sometimes the Prophet asks other people to dance with him.” Her cheeks glowed pink. “Last night he asked me to dance with him. I was so excited I couldn’t even feel my feet touch the ground.”

“How long did you dance?” Ethan asked.

“Not long. We went around the fire and when we reached my place in the circle, the Prophet kissed my cheek. Everyone was watching and I felt so special.” Her eyes shone with the memory. Metwater certainly had her under his spell.

“What happened next?” Ethan prompted.

“The chanting and dancing went on for a little while longer. Then the drums quieted and the Prophet gave us his blessing. Then everyone left the fire circle and went to bed.”

“Where did you go?” Carmen asked. “Did you go with the Prophet?”

“Not right away. I stood around talking with some of the other women—Sarah and Moonglow—and a guy named Alex.”

“What did you talk about?” Ethan asked.

“Nothing in particular. I wanted to know more about what it was like to live in the Family. I want to join, but the Prophet says they aren’t taking any new members right now. Apparently, they had trouble with some cops pretending to be interested in joining and using that to spy on the group. Can you believe that?”

Ethan’s eyes met Carmen’s and he suppressed a smile. She had lived with Metwater and his followers for a couple of weeks last month, by pretending to be a prospective member. Her undercover work hadn’t revealed any evidence of criminal activity in the group, but it had led to contact with a Fish and Game officer tracking smugglers. Carmen had helped with the case and now she and the Fish and Game cop were engaged.

“So you didn’t go to Metwater’s motor home with him right away?” he asked Sunshine.

“No. I stood around and talked for a while. I was thinking I should probably go back to my car when the Prophet walked over and asked me to come back to his motor home with him.” She blushed again. “Just like that, he singled me out. It was amazing.”

“Did you see anyone or talk to anyone on your way to the motor home?” Ethan asked.

“No. He took my hand and practically dragged me back there with him.”

“What happened when you got inside the motor home?” Ethan asked. “What did you see?”

“Nothing, really. He had all the lights turned off. He took me to his bedroom and told me to undress. He started undressing, too. We got under the covers and started making out. And then you interrupted.”

“That doesn’t sound like it would take an hour to me,” Ethan said.

“I don’t see why the time matters so much,” Sunshine said. “The important thing is that we were together and I didn’t see anybody else—certainly not a hurt woman. I mean, I’m sorry she was hurt, but the Prophet wouldn’t do anything like that. He loves women.”

“He certainly loves to use them,” Carmen said.

Sunshine stood and brushed off her skirt. “Can I go now?” she asked.

“Yes, you can go,” Ethan said. “I’ll take you back home.” He dug in his pocket for his car keys but stopped when the front door of Ranger Headquarters burst open.

Starfall staggered inside, her face pale as death except for the bruising along her jaw and around her mouth. She stared at Ethan with haunted eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was a ragged gasp. “Hunter...my baby...he’s gone! You have to help me get him back!”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.