Manhunt On Mystic Mesa. Cindi Myers
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want to go with you when you talk to him,” she said.
“No.” The word held all the finality of a slamming door, but she intended to push that door open.
“I can help you,” she said. “People will say things to me they won’t say to a cop.”
He shook his head, his jaw tense, blue eyes boring into her with an intensity that any other time would have been intimidating. But she had too much at stake to back down now. “If you don’t take me with you, I’ll go out there on my own,” she said.
“I can’t have you interfering with my case,” he said.
“This may be your case, but she’s my sister.” She hated the tremor in her voice as she said the last words and fought hard to control it. “I will do everything in my power to find her. I’ll talk to anyone and everyone who might have information that can help me find her, and you can’t stop me.”
“I could have you arrested for interfering with an investigation.”
“You could. But would you really do that? When we met earlier today, you didn’t strike me as a jerk.”
He actually flinched at the word, as if she had slapped him. “Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?”
“Take it however you like.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze, ignoring the tremor in her stomach as he leaned closer. She could smell the leather-and-starch scent of him, masculine and clean, and see the muscle jump along his jaw as he considered his answer.
“If I let you come with me, you can’t take part in questioning Metwater,” he said. “That has to be done by the book if we’re going to get anything we might be able to use in court later.”
“I understand. I thought I could mix with his followers. Find out if any of them know Jenny, or if she’s been in the camp.”
He rubbed his jaw, the scrape of beard against his palm sending another shiver of awareness through her. “You could talk to some of the women in the group,” he said. “I don’t expect them to be very cooperative with the police—they haven’t made any secret of their dislike of law enforcement. But they might be more sympathetic to you.”
She fought the impulse to throw her arms around him and kiss him—not so much because she thought he might object, but because she didn’t trust herself to stop with one friendly kiss. This sexy cop got to her in a way that alarmed her. The last thing she needed now was that kind of distraction. “I won’t get in your way,” she said. “But we could work together.”
His expression hardened again. “No offense, but I don’t need your help. My job is to solve this case and find your sister.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. He had agreed to what she wanted, so she might as well stay in his good graces—for now. “Do you think this man—Metwater—had something to do with Jenny’s disappearance?” she asked.
“We don’t know,” Ryan said. “Right now, let’s just say he’s a person of interest.”
“That means he’s a suspect,” she said, her heart beating faster again.
“I didn’t say that. If you come with me, you can’t do anything to interfere with the investigation and you can’t share anything we see or do with reporters. Especially not with Eric Patterson.”
She made a face. “I don’t have any desire to talk to him. Maybe it’s petty, but he rubs me the wrong way.”
He nodded, as if he agreed with her. “When you meet Metwater, maybe you can tell us if he’s someone who would have interested Jenny—would she have followed him into the wilderness?”
She swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat. “And the more important question—if she did, why didn’t she come back?”
Daniel Metwater and his followers had set up camp in a shady grove near a freshwater spring at the base of Mystic Mesa. Ryan parked his cruiser next to a dilapidated pickup, and Ethan slid his vehicle in next to Ryan’s. “I don’t see anything,” Jana said, climbing out of Ryan’s vehicle and looking around. Though the sun was slipping toward the horizon, casting long shadows from the trees and boulders, there was still plenty of daylight left this time of year.
“It’s up in the trees through here.” Ethan pointed to a narrow path into the underbrush. He led the way, with Jana following and Ryan bringing up the rear.
They had only walked about ten yards when a shirtless man with blond dreadlocks stepped out in front of them. He carried a heavy wooden staff, which would have made an effective weapon. He took in the two uniformed officers and scarcely glanced at Jana, then settled on Ethan. “Is there a problem, Officer?” he asked.
“We have some questions for Mr. Metwater,” Ethan said, and started to move past him.
Blondie stepped in front of them, holding the stick across his body. “I’m not supposed to let anyone into camp without permission?” His voice rose in a question at the end of the sentence and he looked doubtful.
“This badge means we don’t need permission.” Ethan stepped toward him again. Blondie glanced at Ryan, then moved off the path. The two officers and Jana filed by and entered a clearing around which were clustered a ragtag collection of tents, trailers and makeshift shacks. A dozen or more adults, most of them young women, and half-a-dozen small children milled around the area.
A tall man with a sharp, intelligent face looked up from a conversation with an attractive pregnant woman. Dark curls framed classically handsome features, but a scowl wrinkled his brow, and at the sight of the newcomers, everyone around him and the woman shrank away. “Hello, Mr. Metwater.” Ethan addressed him. “Ms. Mattheson.”
“Asteria, you may wait for me in the motor home,” Metwater said. Ryan realized the blonde must be Andi Mattheson. According to the information Simon had given him, she was the daughter of a former senator and perhaps Daniel Metwater’s most famous disciple. Without a second glance at the visitors, she slipped away.
“I thought we had reached an understanding that the Rangers were not to harass me and my family anymore,” Metwater said. “Or did my attorneys not make that clear enough?”
Ryan pulled out his phone, woke it to display the photo of Jennifer Lassiter and turned the screen toward Metwater. “Have you seen this woman?” he asked.
Metwater peered at the image and shook his head. “No. Who is she?”
“How about this one?” Ryan scrolled to a photo of Alicia Mendoza.
“No.” Metwater folder his arms over his muscular chest. “What is this about?”
“Do the names Jennifer Lassiter or Alicia Mendoza mean anything to you?”
Instead of answering, Metwater turned to Jana. “Who are you?” he asked. “You don’t look like a cop.”
“I’m Jana Lassiter,” she said, pale but composed. “Jennifer Lassiter is my sister. She disappeared yesterday, from the archaeological dig near here.”
Metwater turned back to the officers. “So of course you think I had something to do with this woman’s disappearance, even though I’ve never met her or even heard of her.”
Before Ryan or Ethan could speak, Jana stepped between them and Metwater. “Jenny had your blog bookmarked on her computer,” she said. “She had been reading it right before she disappeared. We were hoping she came here to meet you.”
Metwater’s expression softened, and Ryan had a sense of the kind of charm that might persuade people that he had the answers they were seeking. “I’m sorry I can’t help you,” he said. “I never met your sister.” He turned to the Rangers.