Undercover Husband Page 3

  “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

  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.

  A knock on the door startled her. She punched the remote to shut off the TV and moved to the door. A glimpse through the peephole showed Walt Riley, dressed not in his khaki uniform, but in jeans and a white Western-cut shirt. With trembling hands, she unfastened the security chain and opened the door. “Has something happened?” she asked. “Do you have news?”

  “Hello, Ms. Dietrich,” he said. “Can I come in? There are some things we need to talk about.”

  “All right.” She stepped back and let him walk past her into the room. She caught the scent of him as he passed—not cologne, but a mixture of starch and leather that seemed imminently masculine.

  He crossed the small room and sat in the only chair. She perched on the edge of the bed, her stomach doing nervous somersaults. “Were you able to get the warrant to search the camp?” she asked.

  “No.” He rested his hands on his knees
. Large hands, bronzed from working in the sun, with short nails and no jewelry. “The judge didn’t feel we had sufficient grounds to warrant a search. Metwater has complained we’re harassing him, and the court is taking that complaint seriously.”

  “What about Child Welfare and Protection? Would they support you? Or go to the camp to look for Joy?”

  He shook his head. “CWP says there aren’t any problems at the camp. They would have no reason to be there.”

  She felt as if she had swallowed an anvil. The weight of it pressed her down on the bed. “What am I going to do now?” she asked.

  “We’ve come up with a plan.”

  She leaned toward him. “What is it?”

  “It’s your plan, really. We’ll send two people in, posing as a husband and wife who are interested in joining the Family. That will give us the opportunity to determine, first, if there is even an infant matching the description of your niece in the camp, and if her mother is there or not. We also hope to determine the circumstances surrounding your sister’s death.”

  “I want to go. I want to be the woman.”

  “We’re not talking a quick overnight visit,” he said. “It could take weeks to gain their trust and learn anything of real value.”

  “I’ve taken a leave of absence from my job. I have however much time it takes.”

  “You said you’re a chemist? Is your employer willing to let you off work indefinitely?”

  “I’m very good at my job and I’ve been there a long time. I have savings and not many expenses. And when Joy comes to live with me, I intend to take family leave to spend time with her.” She hoped that would give her enough time to adjust to being a mother—something she had never planned on being, but now wanted more desperately than she had wanted almost anything. “I want to do this, Agent Riley. I want to help find my niece.”

  “If you do this, you have to agree to follow the direction of the male agent who would be posing as your husband,” he said. “You can’t take any action without his knowledge and you have to agree to abide by his decisions.”

  She stiffened. “I’m not used to other people making decisions for me.”

  “Obviously not. But in this case it would be vital. As law enforcement officers, we’re trained to put together a case against someone that will stand up in court. If Daniel Metwater and his followers have kidnapped your niece, or if they had anything to do with your sister’s death, we want to be sure we can build a solid case against them that will lead to a conviction.”

  What he said made sense, and she had always been good at following rules, as long as she saw a good reason for them. “All right. I can respect that,” she said. “Who is the male agent?”

  “That would be me.”

  She sat back a little, letting the words sink in. Relief that she wouldn’t have to work with a stranger warred with the definite attraction that shimmered between them. She didn’t need to be distracted right now. She had to focus on Joy, and the future they were going to have together. But what choice did she have? If she refused to work with Walt Riley just because she could imagine sleeping with him, wasn’t she being foolish, and maybe even a coward? They were two adults. Surely they could control themselves. In any case, he had given no indication that he felt the same attraction to her. “All right,” she said. “What do we do next?”

  “Why don’t we start by going out to dinner?”

  Yet again, this man had caught her off guard. “Are you asking me on a date?”

  “If we’re going to pass ourselves off as husband and wife, we need to know more about each other and get comfortable in each other’s presence.”

  He was right, of course. “All right.”

  He stood and held out his hand. When she took it, he pulled her up beside him. “Why don’t you start by calling me Walt?”

  “All right. Walt.” It wasn’t so hard here, in the intimacy of her hotel room, to think of him by his first name. A simple and strong name, like the man himself. “You should call me Hannah.”

  “It’s a nice name.”

  “I think so. I don’t understand why so many of Metwater’s followers feel compelled to take new names.”

  “It could be the symbolism of starting over, taking on a new identity,” he said. “It’s also a convenient way to make yourself harder to track down if you’re wanted for a crime, or have something else in your past that you don’t want to come out.” He held the door as she walked through, then followed her outside. “Did your sister take a new name when she joined the group?”

  “I don’t know. She never mentioned it.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I feel terrible that I don’t know more about what my sister was doing in the last months of her life. A year ago, I would have said I knew her well, but so many times now, she feels like a stranger to me. It’s depressing. You’d think if you could know anyone well, it would be a sibling.”

  “I think we’re most surprised when family members behave in unexpected ways,” he said. “It feels more personal, I guess. More like a betrayal.”

  “Yes.” He opened the passenger-side door to his Cruiser and she climbed inside. He put a hand on her shoulder, as if making sure she was safely settled before he shut the door behind her. Again, she felt that current of connection with him. She hadn’t felt anything like that—or rather, she hadn’t allowed herself to feel it—for a very long time. Maybe losing Emily had made her more vulnerable. Or finding Joy. So many things in her life felt out of control these days, it shouldn’t have surprised her that her emotions would betray her, too.

  * * *

  THERE WERE DEFINITELY worse ways to spend an evening than sitting across the table from a beautiful woman, Walt thought, once he and Hannah had settled into a booth at a local Italian place. More than one male head had turned to watch Hannah walk across the room, though maybe only Walt saw the fatigue and worry that lurked in her sapphire-blue eyes. He wished he had the power to take that worry and fatigue away from her.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said, once they had placed their orders. “How long have you lived in Dallas?”

  “Ten years. I took the job there after I got my master’s at Rice University in Houston.”

  “So you’re beautiful and brilliant. I’m already out of my league.”

  She sipped her iced tea and regarded him over the rim of the glass. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Trust me, it’s true,” he said. “I have a bachelor’s degree from the University of New Mexico and was solidly in the middle of my class. And while I’m sure there are a few professions less glamorous than law enforcement, patrolling the backcountry of public lands is about as far away from a corporate suite as you can get.”

  “Your job doesn’t sound boring, though.”

  “You might be surprised how boring it can be sometimes. But mostly, it is interesting.”

  “What drew you to the work?” She relaxed back against the padded booth, some of the tension easing from around her eyes.

  “I like the independence, and I like solving puzzles. And maybe this sounds corny, but I like correcting at least some of the injustice in the world. It’s a good feeling when you put away a smuggler or a poacher or a murderer.” His eyes met hers. “Or a kidnapper.”

  She rearranged her silverware. “Do you think this will work? Our pretending to want to join up with them?”

  “It’s the best way I can think of to learn what really goes on in their camp. I figure you can get to know the women—especially the mothers with children. I can talk to the men. We might be able to find Anna Ingels—the woman who witnessed your sister’s will. If your niece is there, someone will know it and eventually they’ll let something slip.”

  The waiter delivered their food—ravioli for Walt, fish for her. They ate in silence for a moment, then she said, “Have yo
u done anything like this before?”

  “You mean undercover work?” He stabbed at a pillow of ravioli. “A couple of times. I posed as a big-game hunter to bring down a group of poachers. And I did a few drug buys, things like that.”

  “Did you ever have to pretend to be married to someone?”

  “No. That’s a new one. Does that worry you?”

  “A little. Not you, I mean—well, I’ve never been married before.”

  “Me either.” He laid down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Before we get too far into this, are you engaged? Seriously involved with someone? Dating a mixed martial arts fighter who’s insanely jealous?”

  Her eyes widened. “No to all of the above. What about you?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend either. Or a girlfriend.”

  She laughed. “Really? That surprises me.”

  “Does it?”

  “You’re good-looking, and friendly. I wouldn’t think you’d have trouble getting a date.”

  “No, I don’t have trouble getting dates.” He took another bite of ravioli, delaying his answer. “I’m new to the area,” he said. “I transferred from northern Colorado just last month.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “And there’s something you’re not saying. I heard it in your voice.”

  Was he really so easy to read? He searched for some glib lie, but then again, why shouldn’t he tell her? “The last woman I dated seriously is now married to my younger brother.”

  “Ouch!”

  “Yeah, well, he’s very charming and untroubled by much of a conscience.” The wound still ached a little—not the woman’s betrayal so much as his brother’s. He should have seen it coming, and the fact that he hadn’t made him doubt himself a little.

  “So that’s what you meant when you said you understood about thinking you knew a family member well, and turning out to be wrong.”