Prologue

Detective Dante Falconeri parked his car outside of The Haunted Star Casino at 8:55 on a foggy Sunday morning. The place looked as deserted as the name implied, but Dante knew that the bulk of the high class customers that frequented the joint would all be safely tucked into bed slightly after sunrise—or what would be sunrise if this small New York town ever got any in the winter. Dante took a moment to look around at the harbor where the boat was docked.

He'd been in Port Charles for over a year, following up an undercover case that brought him here to take down the major mob kingpin, Michael "Sonny" Corinthos, Junior. Now that the case was finished and the town was rid of its long time terror, Dante decided to stay on in the charming port town as a detective. He knew the local PD had made him a generous offer when they told him what his new salary would be, but even then, he was taking a pay cut from his non-so-glamorous days as a Bensonhurst street cop.

The undercover work had taken a toll on him. He wasn't so eager to return to running back alleys and side streets in pursuit of petty thieves and drug dealers. Nor was he ready to jump into work with the FBI, who also tried to persuade him they could use a man of his talents. He was tired. Ready to settle down. Start really enjoying life. Problem was, with the mob in Port Charles under control, the past month, after the trial, had been too quiet. Perhaps that was why Dante agreed to take a meeting with the very successful, very mysterious, Luke Spencer, proprietor of the casino Dante was now about to enter.

Dante had heard of Luke through the Port Charles Police Department grape vine. Wealthy businessman. Divorced, then remarried into the Quartermaine family, Port Charles' old money. Owner and Operating Manager of the towns local hot spot, The Haunted Star. However, this was as much as Dante knew about the man. This was as much as most anyone knew about the man, other than his estranged son who was also on the police force. Lucky never talked about his father. No one ever asked him to talk, knowing full well there was bad blood between the father and son for as long as anyone could remember. That was pretty much the extent of what Dante could determine.

Dante didn't like being summoned by this man. He wasn't even really sure why he responded to the note that was delivered to his desk by some kid in a monkey suit the day before yesterday. Even now, as he prepared to enter through the back door, Dante wasn't sure what he was doing here.

After rapping on the door a couple of times, as instructed by the note, Dante was greeted by a man, no older than himself, dressed immaculately in a dark, costly looking suit. The man opened the door, waited for Dante to enter, then, all without a word, started leading Dante down a richly carpeted hallway. About three quarters down the hall, the man stopped at a large, mahogany door and opened it so Dante could enter. Looking at the man, then around the deserted hallway, Dante took a cautious step forward , then another. The room was exactly what he had expected a casino owner's office to be: rich red with gold leafed wall paper covered the walls to the chair rail, where a dark paneling took over to the floor. A large, well organized desk was the center of the room with a stately office chair behind it. The chair was deserted, so Dante slowly turned to take in the rest of the room. To Dante's right, he heard the unmistakable sound of a bottle being uncorked.

"Just in time, my boy," a silver-haired man said as he poured the scotch from the now opened bottle into a high-ball glass. "Do you prefer on the rocks, or straight?"

"Uh, don't you think it's a little early to start on the scotch? Sir?" He hesitantly added the sir at the end because it seemed like the right thing to do considering the man's mature age, his reputation as a shrewd business owner, and the strange circumstances of the summons and subsequent meeting.

"Sir?" The man laughed, a good hearty chuckle that made him seem more human than any of the small talk and curiosity of the town may have let on. "My boy, I hope by then end of this meeting, you will feel obliged to call me Luke. I have a very lucrative business offer for you of the most sensitive nature, and I never make a deal with a man I don't trust enough to call me by my first name. I do, however, appreciate the show of respect. That's one of the reasons why I've picked you. The commissioner says you are of a high moral character."

"You've talked to Police Commissioner Scorpio about me, sir, er, um" he trailed off, thoroughly confused as to what he was doing here and what this man was talking about. Was this to be official police business, then? But that just didn't add up.

The man, who wanted Dante to call Luke, was chuckling again. "I can see you are entirely confused. Let's sit and discuss the matter further. How about that scotch?"

"None for me, thank you. It's a little early for my taste," Dante declined respectfully.

"No matter. Hope you won't mind if I indulge myself. When you're in my business, this is just the end of the evening, see? It's time to start winding down. I just happened to like to enjoy a couple of glasses of fine scotch before I head off to bed. Or when I get up for that matter. Sit, sit. Let me explain why you are here." The man gestured towards a set of black leather wing tipped chairs next to the bar where he had been pouring drinks. Luke downed his glass, poured himself another, and topped the bottle as Dante walked tentatively towards the sitting area.

The office was void of many personal affects, but the end table between the two chairs held what looked to be a photo album.

"Detective," Luke began as he seated himself on one of the chairs. He switched out the photo album for the glass as he continued. "I'd like you to, unofficially, of course, meet my family." He opened up the cover and pointed the book towards Dante, now seated in the other chair, to display a young family of four. Luke was quickly recognizable, so was a young Lucky, but the two women in the photograph were unfamiliar to Dante.

"This is the last family picture the four of us ever had taken. My wife, Laura, and I started having marital difficulties shortly after. Well, perhaps the difficulties began before that. I'm not a terribly good family man, see? I've always had a hankering to up and leave at the drop of a hat. Never been one to stay around one place too long. Even while running the Star here, I get a hankering to go someplace, so I pick up and leave, easy as that. I've got the money and the staff that allows me to do it now, too. But in those days, I felt trapped, tied down. Laura knew it and was unhappy. Laura and the kids lived on edge, never knowing when they'd wake up one day and be gone. I always came back, of course. Eventually. Even took Lucky on a few of my adventures, too. But Leslie, well, I'm afraid I wasn't a good father to her at all."

He turned the page to show a baby blonde girl in pigtails, perhaps about 10 years old, smiling brightly for the camera. The photo looked as if it was taken by a school photographer. What would that make her? Third grade?

"Leslie took it hard when Laura and I started fighting all the time. I was gone more often. The girl would cry and hang on my legs when I would get home, begging me not to leave again. It only got worse as time went on. The summer before her fifteenth birthday, Laura and I split for good. I had driven Laura mad and she was admitted into the Shadybrook Institution shortly after. She's never been the same woman since.

"We had decided that we would send Leslie off to a boarding school during that final year of marriage. It was more convenient for me to leave if Leslie wasn't around to disappoint, and Laura was already on her way to checking out. Lucky had already finished high school and was moving out on his own by that time, so Leslie got the brunt of the domestic disputes.

"We shipped her off to Paris, to a boarding school that offered a dual language and college preparatory education. I'll never forget the hate in her eyes as she looked at me before she boarded the plane. She looked right at me and said 'I'll never forgive you for this, father. I hope I never see you again.'"

The page had turned again to reveal a young woman, perhaps about fifteen. The baby blond darkened slightly, and the long hair hung loosely around her face in gentle curls. She was a pretty girl, but the sparkle had completely gone from her eyes. She was barely smiling.

Dante sat, studying the picture, not fully comprehending what all this was for. Why is Luke telling him all of this? Why would a man who seemed to keep so many secrets decide to open up to a complete stranger?

"She was prophetic, my Leslie was. I haven't seen her since her fateful proclamation." Dante glanced up at Luke and saw the hurt darkening in his eyes. "I regret what I've done to my children every day that I am alive. Can you understand that Dante? How much a man can regret ostracizing his own offspring, for the simple reason that he wished to be free of them? I don't know if I can ever forgive myself."

The men sat in silence for a while as Dante pondered how to respond to this broken man before him. Luke was obviously lost in his own world of regret, so it really didn't matter if Dante spoke now or not. Realizing this, he simply waited. Waited for the man to tell him where he fit into this picture.

"I have to know that she is okay. I have to know if she is happy. I may not be able to make up for where I have failed in the past, I may never earn or deserve her forgiveness, but at least I may be able to sleep better if I know for sure she is safe. That, Dante, is where you come in."

"Me, sir? What can I do?" Dante was baffled. He was just a Port Charles Police Detective. She obviously wasn't in Port Charles or Luke would surely know about it.

"Why, I'm asking you to find her! I've seen the newspapers. I've talked to Commissioner Scorpio. I know what you did to take down Sonny Corinthos, and I believe you are exactly the detective that can find my daughter," Luke admitted.

"I'm not that kind of detective, sir. I—"

"Don't call me 'sir.' It's Luke now. You're in on all the family secrets. And I won't take no for an answer. I've already discussed this matter with Scorpio. He's an old family friend. He agreed that after the Corinthos bust, you're due for a holiday from the force and he doesn't mind if you take that time helping me out. I'm prepared to pay all of your traveling costs and living expenses for wherever you may end up. I'm also prepared to pay the rent on your apartment while you are gone, as well as, upon finding her and bringing me proof of her whereabouts and lifestyle, a half a million dollars for your troubles. You can start today if you'd like." With that, he handed the family album to Dante, took up the glass again, downed the entire contents, and got up to walk towards the bar.

"You'll find the rest of that book you're holding has any information those other, inferior, detectives have been able to dig up. The trail seems to always end in Paris with a man named Javier Dupont in 2004 after Leslie graduated from the boarding school. His background information is in the folder, but he and Leslie seemed to both disappear from records at that point." Luke pours another glass of scotch before turning back to Dante. "I have taken the liberty of opening a credit card for a false business for wine imports called "New York Wine Imports, Inc," all debts to be paid by myself. There is also an envelope with $10,000 cash. You'll find them both on the desk with the cellular phone programmed with my number and all of the latest traveling applications. You can take the album with you, of course. The latest photograph of Leslie from her Senior year at school is also in there, as well as contact information for her dorm mate and anyone else who may have information on where she may be. Although, I'll caution you, other private detectives have tried come up with nothing from those sources, other than this Javier character. What do you say, Dante? Can you find my Leslie?"

Dante sat in stunned silence as he tried to absorb all that Luke had told him. Did he really want to go off on a wild goose chase for some girl who may not want to be found, or for that matter, may already be dead? She probably fell in love with this guy and ran off and is living in some small town on the Riviera, with a happy little family. She probably didn't want to be bothered by the hurt from her past.

However, the money did sound nice, as well as a chance to travel a bit. He'd always wanted to see Paris, maybe take in an opera while there. He had a job here in Port Charles, but it sounded like his boss would take him back whenever the job was completed or the search was abandoned. And wasn't he yearning for a little more adventure than Port Charles had to offer him right now?

As he pondered, Luke studied the man that held his last hope of finding his beloved daughter. He dangled one last carrot. "This Javier. He has a shady past. He's several years older than Leslie, and her classmates seemed to think that maybe she was in some kind of trouble. I would really feel better knowing that she was safe." Luke saw the surprise in Dante's eyes and inwardly smiled. He knew Dante was the chivalrous type and would rush to the aid of a damsel in distress. He was counting on that piece of information working, even if the excitement of a good, hard case didn't interest him.

Dante collected his thoughts and began to think forward as to his next step.

"One question, Mr. Spencer. Why don't you do this on your own? You said yourself that you're a bit of a rambler, so why don't you go off looking for your own daughter?"

"I tried. In the early years, after I had realized the mistake I had made in sending her away. Never got very far. I look for her face every time I pull up in a new port, too. But, she doesn't want to see me. If she had, I'm not terribly difficult to find. So, I'm resolved to be happy just knowing that she is safe and well taken care of." The older man grew sad and introspective again.

Dante continued while standing up with the book in hand, "I assume you'll want this kept quiet, but if you don't mind, I'd like to ask that Spinelli kid to do some checking on the internet. I know he's discreet since he worked for Corinthos all those years and the poor guy's out of work now, looking for any little task to help him out. Would that be alright?"

"Do what you have to do. I don't care who knows I'm looking for my daughter. Just—" He hesitated and came towards Dante, meeting his eyes. "Just promise me you won't tell her anything about me. Get just close enough to make sure she's okay, but don't let her know I sent you. I don't want her to have to face anything she doesn't want to remember."

The men stood toe to toe, each contemplating the other and the task at hand.

"Luke, you have yourself a deal." Dante stretched out his hand.

"Dante, I am so relieved to hear you say that." Luke took Dante's hand and gave it one firm shake.

Just as the men in Port Charles were make a deal that would change her life, Leslie Spencer closed the door behind her as she entered her small, drab apartment. She removed her rain drenched overcoat and hung it on the peg, which was really just a nail, by the door. She had already changed out of her work clothes after her shift, then walked the streets until she knew she was exhausted enough she could fall asleep immediately when she finally went to bed.

She had become accustomed to those early morning walks. She often found herself in Jackson Square looking at the massive St. Louis Cathedral and wondering what her life could have been. It was easier not to think of the twists and turns her life had taken in the past 7 years when she was walking the streets, taking in the morning sounds of New Orleans, than it was to try not to think when lying in bed, praying for sleep.

After changing into her pajamas, fixing herself a cup of hot tea to ward away the chill of the morning rain, Lulu, as she was now called, ran over a list of things she needed to do this evening on her night off, and went off to bed, where she fitfully slept and dreamed of better days, and nights.