Missing In Blue Mesa

“Did he follow you after he talked to you?” Ethan asked.

“He started walking back toward camp, but he could have turned around when he was out of sight.”

They continued to a wooden hut, open at the top except for a platform, on which sat a blue plastic barrel. The door to the hut was open A bearded young man was inside, painting the walls a light blue-gray. “What are you doing?” Michelle demanded.

He stopped in mid-brushstroke. “The Prophet told me to paint in here,” he said.

“Why aren’t you out searching with everyone else?” she asked.

“He told me it was more important to paint.”

“Were there any paint marks on the walls before you started?” Ethan asked. The young man must have been working for a while—all four walls were mostly coated with paint.

The man scratched his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t pay any attention. Anyway, I’m almost finished.”

Ethan nudged Michelle. “Let’s find Metwater,” he said. He could hear voices now, perhaps a sign the searchers were nearby.

“That’s the same color paint that was dumped on me,” she said. “Metwater must have ordered it painted to hide the evidence.”

“Maybe.” The voices grew louder and they emerged into a second clearing, this one empty of dwellings, but full of people. Ethan spotted Metwater right away—with his long, dark hair and all-white clothing, he stood out amidst his ragtag group of followers. “Metwater, I want to talk to you,” he called.

Metwater raised his head and fixed his gaze first on Michelle. Ethan couldn’t read his expression. When his gaze shifted to Ethan, Metwater looked calm—too calm. “I understand a child went missing from camp,” Ethan said as he and Michelle approached the self-appointed Prophet.

“His mother reported him missing,” Metwater said. “We haven’t found any sign of foul play—and no sign of the child.”