Undercover Husband. Cindi Myers

office next door.

      She opened the sleek leather satchel she had slung over one shoulder and pulled out a sheaf of papers and handed it to him. At first glance, it appeared to be some kind of legal document. “What is this?” he asked.

      “It’s a court order awarding me custody of my niece, Joy Dietrich.” She removed the sunglasses and he found himself staring into a pair of intensely blue eyes, their beauty undimmed by the red rims and puffy lids, evidence that Miss Cool and Collected had, very recently, been crying. “I need your help getting her back from the people who have kidnapped her,” she said.

      This definitely was more serious than a camping permit. Walt dragged a chair over to his desk. “Why don’t you sit down, Ms.—?”

      “Dietrich. Hannah Dietrich.” She sat, crossing her long legs neatly at the ankles. There was nothing particularly revealing about the gray slacks and matching jacket she wore, but she still managed to look sexy wearing them. Or maybe it was only that Walt had always had a thing for blue-eyed blondes.

      “Wait here, Ms. Dietrich,” he said. “I’m going to get my commanding officer and you can tell us your story.”

      He strode to the back of the building and poked his head around the open door of Commander Graham Ellison’s office. The FBI agent, who still carried himself like the marine he had once been, broke off his conversation with DEA agent Marco Cruz. Elsewhere in the office or out in the field, officers from Immigration and Customs Enforcement, Customs and Border Protection, and Colorado State Patrol worked together to fight crime on thousands of acres of public land in the southwest corner of Colorado. Walt, one of the newest members of the Ranger team, had jumped at the opportunity to be involved in the kind of high-profile cases the Rangers were becoming known for. A kidnapping would definitely qualify as high-profile. “Something up, Walt?” Graham asked.

      “There’s a woman out here who says she needs our help recovering her kidnapped niece,” Walt said. “Before I had her run through the whole story, I thought you might like to hear it.”

      “Who does she say kidnapped her niece?” Marco, one of the senior members of the Ranger Brigade, had a reputation as an expert tracker and a cool head in even the tensest situations. Walt hadn’t had a chance to work with him yet, but he had heard plenty of stories from others on the team.

      “We haven’t gotten that far yet,” Walt said.

      “Let’s hear what she has to say.” Graham led the way back to Walt’s desk, where Hannah Dietrich waited. If the prospect of being confronted by three lawmen unsettled her, she didn’t show it. “Ms. Dietrich, this is Commander Graham Ellison and Agent Marco Cruz.”

      “Hello.” She nodded, polite but reserved. “I hope you’ll be able to help me.”

      “Why don’t you tell us more about your situation?” Graham pulled up a second chair, while Marco stood behind him. Walt perched on the corner of the desk. “You say your niece was kidnapped?”

      “In a manner of speaking.”

      “What manner would that be?” Marco crossed his arms over his chest.

      “I think it would be best if I began at the beginning.” She smoothed her hands down her thighs and took a deep breath. “I have—had—a sister, Emily. She’s six years younger than me, and though we have always been close, in temperament we’re very different. She was always carefree, impulsive and restless.”

      Nothing about Hannah Dietrich looked restless or impulsive, Walt thought. Even obviously distressed as she was, the word she brought to mind was control. She controlled her feelings and she was used to being in control of her life.

      “About a year ago, Emily met a man, Raynor Gilbert,” Hannah continued. “He was working as a bouncer at a club in Denver that she used to frequent, and they became lovers. She found out she was pregnant, and they had plans to marry, but he was killed in a motorcycle accident only a week after Emily learned she was expecting.” She paused a moment, clearly fighting for composure, then continued.

      “My sister was devastated, and acted out her grief with even more impulsive behavior. I wanted her to come live with me, but she refused. She said she wanted a different life for herself and her child. She attended a rally by a group that calls themselves the Family. Their leader is a very handsome, charismatic man named Daniel Metwater.”

      “We know about Metwater.” Graham’s expression was grim. Metwater and his “family” had a permit to camp in the Curecanti National Recreation Area, adjacent to the national park and part of the Rangers’ territory. Though Metwater had recently been eliminated as the chief suspect in a murder investigation, the Rangers continued to keep a close watch on him and his followers.

      “Then you are probably aware that he recruits young people to join his group, promising them peace and harmony and living close to nature,” Hannah said. “His message appealed to my sister, who I believe was looking for an excuse to run away from her life for a while.”

      “When was the baby—Joy—born?” Walt asked.

      Her eyes met his, softening a little—because he had remembered the child’s name? “She was born a little over three months ago. Emily sent me a letter with a photograph. She said the baby was healthy, but I know my sister well enough to read between the lines. I sensed she wasn’t happy. She said things had been hard, though she didn’t provide any details, and she said she wanted to come home for a visit but didn’t know if the Prophet—that’s what this Metwater person calls himself—would allow it. I would have gone to her right away, but her letter gave no clue as to where she was located. She said the Family was moving soon and she would write me again when they were settled.”

      “Did she usually contact you via letter instead of calling or texting or emailing?” Walt asked.

      “Apparently, one condition of being a part of this group is giving up electronic devices like computers and cell phones,” Hannah said. “I don’t know if all the members comply with that restriction, but Hannah was very serious about it. Shortly after she joined the group, she wrote and told me we could only communicate through letters.”

      “Did that alarm you?” Graham asked.

      “Of course it did.” A hint of annoyance sharpened Hannah’s voice. “I wrote back immediately and tried to persuade her that a group that wanted its members to cut off contact with family and friends had to be dangerous—but that letter came back marked Return to Sender. It was months before I heard anything else from Emily, and that was the letter informing me of Joy’s birth. In the interim, I was worried sick.”

      She opened the satchel once more and withdrew an envelope. “Then, only two weeks after the letter announcing Joy’s birth came, I received this.” She handed the envelope to Walt. He pulled out two sheets of lined paper, the left edge ragged where the pages had been torn out of a notebook.

      “‘I’m very afraid. I don’t think anyone can help me,’” Walt read out loud. “‘If anything happens to me, promise you will take care of Joy.’” He looked at Hannah. “What did you do when you received this?”

      “I was frantic to find her. I hired a private detective, and he was able to track down Metwater and his followers, but they told him there was no one in the group who fit my sister’s description and they knew nothing. Look at the other paper, please.”

      Walt handed the first sheet to Graham and scanned the second sheet. “Is this a will?” he asked.

      “Yes. It names me as Joy’s guardian in the event of Emily’s death. I was able to have a court certify it as legal and grant me custody.”

      “How did you do that?” Graham asked. “Without proof of your sister’s death?”

      “I was able to find proof.” She brought out another envelope and handed it to the commander. “Here are copies of my sister’s death certificate, as well as a birth certificate for her daughter.”

      Graham