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“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 (#u6340eaef-e5e7-554b-8f25-e033b5cc8ce4)
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.
