Missing In Blue Mesa. Cindi Myers

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