Manhunt On Mystic Mesa. Cindi Myers
glanced at the number, then turned the card over. “You’re a CPA?”
“You sound surprised.”
His face felt hot. “It wouldn’t have been my first guess.”
“I get it. CPAs are supposed to be boring and plain. I hear librarians have the same problem.”
“You aren’t boring or plain.” He slipped the card into his pocket. “I promise to keep in touch.”
“I’m trusting you to do that.” She met his gaze and he felt the pull of that look somewhere deep in his gut—a surprising but not wholly unpleasant sensation. “And just so you know, I don’t give my trust very easily,” she added, before turning and walking away.
* * *
JANA’S FIRST INSTINCT was to remain near the dig site, walking the desert and calling for her sister. But she had no idea where Jenny might go, and in the vast, mostly featureless terrain she was liable to end up lost herself. So she returned to Montrose, but not to the motel. Instead, she headed to the apartment Jenny shared with another young woman. April was a medical assistant at the local hospital, and she had told Jana to feel free to come in and look around.
She let herself in with the key Jenny had given her and stood for a moment surveying the living room. She had been here before, of course, on visits since Jenny had relocated here for the summer. But she had never been here without Jenny. Already the place felt alien without her sister’s presence.
Steeling herself, she crossed the living room to Jenny’s bedroom. She didn’t know what she was looking for—what she might find that the police investigators wouldn’t have uncovered. April had told her the police had already been there. They had made copies of Jenny’s computer files and looked through her belongings, but shared no impressions of their findings.
Jana sat on the side of the bed and looked around, trying to see the room as an outsider might. The small space was as bright and sunny as Jenny herself—from the pink patchwork quilt on the bed to the paper flowers tacked to the bulletin board over her desk. Sophisticated cosmetics shared space with a stuffed pink bear. It was the room of a girl who was slowly transforming into a woman.
She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She refused to give in to tears, as if grieving would be disloyal. But the knowledge that her sister might not be all right, might in fact be dead, lurked at the edge of her consciousness, a horrible specter she wasn’t yet willing to confront.
It’s only been one day, she reminded herself. Jenny is young and healthy and smart. If she did get lost, she knows to stay put and wait for help. And she’s got a lot of people working to find her. The memory of Officer Spencer’s hand on her shoulder, a reassuring, comforting weight, returned and made her feel more settled. She believed he was doing everything he could to help her and Jenny. In the future, the sisters would look back on this time and laugh about the adventure.
She forced herself to stand and walk to the desk and power up the laptop computer. She knew the password—the same one Jenny had used for years—and soon was perusing her sister’s files and email and Facebook page. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was no journal detailing a secret worry or hurt, no anguished emails to friends, only the usual cheery greetings or gossiping about school or movies or weekend plans. She found a few emails from Eric Patterson, but they offered little insight into the relationship—invitations to dinner or confirmation of weekend plans. No words of love or secret scheming.
The sound of the front door opening startled her. “April, is that you?” she called. “I’m back here in Jenny’s room.”
“It’s not April,” came a man’s voice, and a moment later Officer Ryan Spencer filled the doorway of the bedroom.
Heart thudding painfully, Jana stared at him, caught off guard. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“The sheriff’s office gave us the information they had, but I wanted to see the place for myself.” He came into the room, and the already-small space seemed to shrink around them. “I thought it would help me get a better feel for your sister.”
Jana sank onto the bed again, fearful her shaking legs might not support her. Having the police here—in Jenny’s private space—made the magnitude of her disappearance that much greater. “This room is just like Jenny,” she said. She didn’t elaborate—let him make of that what he would.
His gaze roamed around the room. She had the sense that he was analyzing everything he saw, putting each item into a bigger picture he was forming of her sister. At last his eyes came back to her. “Have you found anything I should know about?” he asked.
She glanced toward the desk and the open computer. “I don’t know if it’s anything important,” she said. “But it’s something that struck me as odd when I was looking through her social media.”
“There are no pictures online of her with Eric Patterson,” he said.
“Yes!” She stared at him, impressed in spite of herself. “She has pictures of herself with other friends on her Facebook and Instagram pages, and here.” She indicated the bulletin board.
He nodded. “If you were engaged to someone, you would probably have lots of pictures of them.” He walked over to the laptop and hit a few keys. “There’s something else on this you ought to see,” he said. “Something I discovered looking at the copy of her hard drive the sheriff’s office made.”
“They made a copy of her hard drive?” She didn’t know whether to be comforted by their thoroughness or alarmed that the investigation was moving so quickly.
“We’ve learned the hard way that we need to take these cases seriously from the start,” he said. “There was a time when adults had to be missing for a while before law enforcement stepped in, but now we know the sooner we launch an investigation, the more likely we are to have a positive outcome.”
She nodded. “That makes sense. So what did you find?”
“Come look.”
Feeling steadier now, she stood and came to stand beside him, studying the screen, which showed a handsome, dark-haired man dressed in white, next to a blog post about the key to happiness. “What am I looking at?” she asked.
“It’s a blog by a man named Daniel Metwater. He calls himself a prophet and preaches a kind of back-to-nature spirituality a lot of young people find very compelling. Jenny’s browser history shows she had read quite a few of his posts and bookmarked his site.”
“Why is that important?” Jana asked.
“Because Metwater and his followers are camped very near where Jenny disappeared.”
Her stomach gave a nervous jump. “You mentioned wanting to question some people who were camped nearby. Did you mean this man, Metwater?”
“Yes, but I haven’t talked to him yet.”
“Why not?”
“I wanted to see what I could find out here first.”
“I 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