Undercover Husband

“I’m trying to figure out what Daniel Metwater stands to gain by claiming your niece is his daughter,” he said. “Understanding people’s motives is often helpful in untangling a crime.”

“I imagine you know more about the man than I do. He’s been living in this area for what, almost a month now?”

“About that. Is it possible your sister listed him as Joy’s father without his knowledge?”

“Why would she do that?”

“You said she was one of his followers. He refers to himself as a father to his disciples. Maybe she was trying to honor that.”

She studied the ground at her feet, the rough aggregate of rocks and dirt in half a dozen shades of red and brown. She might have been standing on Mars, for all she felt so out of her depth. “I don’t know what my sister was thinking. As much as I loved her, I didn’t understand her. She lived a very different life.”

“Where do you live? I haven’t even asked.”

“Dallas. I’m a chemist.” The expression on his face almost made her laugh. “Never play poker, Agent Riley.”

“All right, I’ll admit I’m surprised,” he said. “I’ve never met a female chemist before. Come to think of it, I may never have met a chemist before.”

His grin, so boyish and almost bashful, made her heart skip a beat. She put her hand to her chest, as if to calm the irregular rhythm. “My job doesn’t put me in contact with very many law enforcement officers, either.” Impulsively, she reached out and touched his arm. “You’ll let me know the minute you know anything about Joy? Call me anytime—even if it’s the middle of the night.”

He covered her hand with his own. The warmth and weight of that touch seeped into her, steadying her even as it made her feel a little off balance. “I will,” he said. “And try not to worry. It may not seem like it, but we are doing everything we can to help you.”

“I want to believe that.” She pulled her hand away, pretending to fuss with the clasp of her handbag. “I’m used to being in charge, so it’s not always easy to let someone else take over.”

“Let us know if you think of anything that might be helpful.”

“I will.” They said goodbye and she got into her car and drove away. For the first time since coming to Colorado, she wasn’t obsessing over Joy and Emily and the agonizing uncertainty of her situation. Instead, she was remembering the way it felt when Agent Walt Riley put his hand on hers. They had connected, something that didn’t happen too often for her. She had come into this situation thinking she was the only one who could save her niece. Maybe she wasn’t quite so alone after all.

* * *

WALT SPENT EVERY spare moment over the next twenty-four hours working on Hannah’s case. Though he prided himself on being a hard worker, the memory of Hannah’s stricken face when he had last seen her drove him on. The afternoon of the second day, the Ranger team met to report on their various activities. Everyone was present except Montrose County sheriff’s deputy Lance Carpenter, who was on his honeymoon but expected back later in the week, and Customs and Border Protection agent Michael Dance, who was following up a lead in Denver. After listening to a presentation by veteran Ranger Randall Knightbridge on a joint effort with Colorado Parks and Wildlife to catch poachers operating in the park, and a report from Colorado Bureau of Investigation officer Carmen Redhorse on an unattended death in the park that was ruled a suicide, Walt stood to address his fellow team members.

After a brief recap of Hannah’s visit and his and Marco’s foray into Metwater’s camp, he consulted his notes. “I’ve gone over the documents Ms. Dietrich supplied us. We couldn’t lift any useful prints from the letter or the will. Nothing on the note that was left at the camp, or the bonnet, either. I contacted the Denver hospital where the baby was born—the hat isn’t one of theirs. They think the mother probably brought it with her, and they can’t give out any information on patients. We’re trying to reach the nurse who was one of the witnesses on Emily Dietrich’s will, Marsha Caldwell. She is reportedly living in Amsterdam now, where her husband recently transferred for work, but I haven’t gotten a response yet. We haven’t had any luck locating the other witness, Anna Ingels.”

“I talked to a contact at Child Welfare and Protection and she had nothing for me,” Carmen said. “They did send a social worker to visit the camp a couple of weeks after Metwater and his group arrived here, but they found no violations. They said all the children appeared to be well cared for.”

“And I don’t guess they noted any baby crawling around with no mother to claim her,” Ethan Reynolds, another of the new recruits to the Ranger Brigade, quipped.

“We got word a few minutes ago that the judge is denying our request for a warrant to search the camp,” Graham said.

The news rocked Walt back on his heels, as if he’d been punched. “What was their reasoning?” he asked.

“We didn’t present enough evidence to justify the search,” the captain said. “At least in their eyes. The judge feels—and this isn’t the first time I’ve heard this—that the Ranger Brigade’s continued focus on Metwater and his followers is tantamount to harassment.”

“This doesn’t come from us,” Randall said. “Ms. Dietrich came to us. She’s the one who made the accusations against Metwater. We weren’t harassing him. We were following up on her claim.”

“And we found nothing,” Graham said. He looked across the table and met Walt’s steady gaze. “As long as Metwater and his people deny the baby exists, our hands are tied. There’s nothing else we can do.”

Chapter Three (#udf15ee20-19a1-5f6e-846e-9a09572cd058)

Protests rose from all sides of the conference table after Graham’s pronouncement. “We need to go back to the judge and try again,” Michael Dance said.

“I can talk to Child Welfare and Protection,” Carmen said. “Ask them to take another look.”

“Unless we have CWP on our side, we’re not going to get anywhere with this,” Randall Knightbridge said.

Walt raised his voice to be heard over the clamor. “There’s still something we can do, even without a warrant,” he said.

Conversation died and everyone turned to look at him. “What do you have in mind?” Marco asked.

“I think we should do what Hannah suggested and infiltrate the group.” Walt said.

“You mean, send someone in undercover to determine if the baby is really there?” Carmen asked.

“And maybe find out what really happened to the child’s mother,” Walt said. “Hannah said her sister was afraid for her life—maybe there’s more to this story that we need to find out.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Graham said. “I’ve thought of it before, if only to get a better sense of what Metwater is up to.”

“It could backfire, big time,” said Simon Woolridge, tech expert and Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent. “If Metwater figures out what we’re doing, he could take it to the press and gain a lot of traction with his claims that we’re harassing him.”

“He won’t find out,” Walt said. “Not if we do it right.”

“By ‘we’ you mean who?” Graham asked.

Walt squared his shoulders. “I could go,” he said. “I’ve done undercover work before.”

“They’d recognize you,” Marco said. “We were just at the camp this morning.”

“I’d dye my hair and grown out my beard, and dress differently. They wouldn’t recognize me as the lawman they saw one time.”

“How are you going to know you found the right baby?” Carmen asked.

“Hannah Dietrich could come with me. I could say she’s my sister.”

“That won’t work,” Simon said. “You two don’t look anything alike.”

“Say she’s your wife,” Randall said. “From what we’ve seen, couples sometimes join Metwater’s Family together.”

“I could do that,” Walt said. “If she agrees.”

“You heard her,” Marco said. “She’ll do anything to save her niece.”

“Talk to her,” Graham said. “See what she says. But she has to agree to follow your lead and proceed with caution. And if you get in there and learn there’s a real danger, you get out. No heroics.”

“Yes, sir.” He didn’t want to be a hero. He only wanted to make things right for Hannah and her niece.

* * *

HANNAH HAD LOST the plot thread of the movie playing on the television in her hotel room an hour ago, but she left it on, grateful at least for the background noise that helped to make the room a little less forlorn. She glanced toward the porta-crib and the diaper bag in the corner of the room and felt a tight knot in her chest. Had she been naive to believe she would be bringing Joy back here last night, before heading back home to Dallas today? Now she was trapped in this awful limbo, not knowing when—or even if—she would see her niece.