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
