Author's Note: Thank you to my co-author, katbybee, for providing a voice for Mike Stoker. You always do a fabulous job with him! And thank you to Piscean6724 for beta reading. I always appreciate your encouragement! And most of all, readers, in this week of Thanksgiving, I thank you for following my stories and for the reviews and messages I get from you. You are awesome!

One reader was hoping for more of Johnny. There is more of him in this chapter, but at the moment he does not remember that name, so I have not used it in writing his POV.

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Wednesday, 22 November 1972

Ariadne dialed Mike's number, hopeful that he would pick up the phone. She'd sneaked the number out of his medical file at Rampart. He was off shift and his children would be out of school for Thanksgiving, so his wife could easily be home. Ariadne bristled at the thought of Mike with another woman. Surely she didn't deserve him, not the way Ariadne did.

She thought back to the hug he had given her the last time she saw him. She'd had to hurry away because of how it made her knees wobble. She needed him to hold her like that again. Of course, it couldn't be that way once she got him back to the Farm, but at least he would be hers and he would give her children. She smiled at that thought. Hera's Enlightened Women preferred girl children, but she wouldn't mind a little boy who looked just like Mike… since she couldn't have one who looked like Johnny.

The phone rang. Once… twice… a third time. She closed her eyes and willed him to answer.

"Hello?" Thank Hera, it was Mike. She took it as a confirmation that she was doing the right thing.

"Mike?" Ariadne made her voice sound vulnerable. "I… I need to talk with you. I think I may know something… about Johnny. Can you meet me?"

"Ariadne? Can't you tell me over the phone? It's my day off and I was planning to take my family out for the afternoon."

She scrunched up her forehead. This had to work. "I'm sorry… I can't say anything more on the telephone. They might be list —" She summoned her tears. She'd learned long ago to cry on command. It was a handy skill. "Please, Mike. I… I think… I think they killed him!"

He was silent for a long moment after that. Then his husky voice said, "I'm on the way." Ariadne heard the clattering of the phone — he must have dropped the handset before hanging it up. Of course, he was coming. He might not realize that he loved her yet, but he did. She was sure of it.

Smiling in satisfaction, Ariadne took good advantage of the time before Mike could arrive to prepare for him. She broke the door lock and then tore her blouse and messed up her hair so it looked like someone had broken in and roughed her up. Then she readied a vial of Hera's Dust and tucked it in her pocket. All she had to do was spray it in his face to knock him out. She hoped he wouldn't react the way Roy had.

Finally, she forced more tears. This way she would have red eyes when Mike arrived. He would take one look at her, and his heart would be hers.

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Mike was tempted to call the police and let them deal with Ariadne. Beth and the boys were working on a Scout project at a neighbor's house, but as soon as they got home, the family was going to dinner and a movie, and bright and early tomorrow morning, they were driving up to Fresno to celebrate Thanksgiving with his parents. Still, if she really did know something about Johnny, he had to go hear her out. He scrawled a quick note for Beth. May have a lead on Johnny. I'll be home in time to go. Love you, Mike.

Ten minutes later, he pulled up outside the address Ariadne had given him and climbed out of his truck. At the door, he called her name. His heart sank when he saw the broken lock. Inside, someone was sobbing. Mike knocked and then entered.

He found Ariadne sitting on her sofa, hugging herself and rocking back and forth as she bawled. She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. "Thank you for coming. I was so scared!" Her whole body was trembling. "My old boyfriend and his gang… they broke in. They're the ones who took Johnny. He… he…" She fell into Mike's arms. "He says… he says they killed him!"

Mike had sat down next to her. Horrified and confused, he pulled her into a hug. "Why would they do that, and where did they go? We need to call the police, Ariadne!"

She shook her head. "No! They bugged it! They're listening! Gino said if he couldn't have me, no one could. That's why they did it. I thought maybe it was him, and then he showed up and I was sure. He doesn't want me to be happy. But I… I told him you were coming, and he… he ran away." She grabbed another tissue and blew her nose again. Then she lay a hand on Mike's chest. "I knew you would rescue me." She looked up at him, eyes wide and hopeful.

But Mike was unaffected by puppy-dog eyes. The only one who could look at him like that and get a reaction was Beth. Besides, this story was sounding more bizarre by the minute, like she was just making it up as she went along. He removed her hand from his chest. "We're going to call the police and tell them your story," he repeated firmly. He pulled away from her. "Come on, where's your phone? I've got to get home to my family."

As he was rising to his feet, she panicked. "No, I told you, we can't!" Suddenly, she pulled some sort of cartridge out of her pocket, held it up, and sprayed a puff of something right in his face. "You're mine now, Mike," she said, a victorious smile on her lips. "Forever."

Realization struck just as his vision started to grey around the edges. "It was you all along," he slurred out. "But I'm not s-single… all… the others… were single." And then, desperately, "I love you, Beth. Forever." His eyes drifted shut as unconsciousness took him.

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Ariadne smiled as she stroked Mike's limp hand. She slid his wedding ring off his finger and pocketed it. Then she kissed him, right on the lips. If only he were awake to kiss her back. She was tempted to do more, but she was skating on thin ice as it was. The time would come when she could enjoy him fully, and it would be all the sweeter for waiting. "You'll forget that other woman's name soon enough, my love. And then you'll wear my name for the rest of your life."

Working quickly, she plucked Mike's wallet from his pants pocket. She had a message to leave before she spirited him away. Once she had it ready, she left the wallet on her front doorstep. No need to hide it away as Hera preferred, where it might not be found for years. Ariadne wanted everyone to know that Mike was hers.

She was surprisingly strong for such a slight figure. After tying Mike hand and foot, she managed to drag him to her garage and wrangle him into the trunk of her car. He should sleep long enough to get him to Hera's way station in St. George, but just in case she put a strip of duct tape over his mouth. At the way station, she would treat him with Hera's Dust again.

She slid a cassette tape into a tape deck and, after setting it to play in an endless loop, laid it right next to his head. Hera's voice filled the small space, and Ariadne hoped it would reach into his subconscious mind. "You are a man. You are evil. Through obedience you will find redemption." Finally, she bent down to press her lips against his one more time. "You are mine now. Forever." She closed the trunk and locked it, opened the garage door, then slid into the driver's seat and started the car.

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Beth found Mike's note on the fridge when she got home. Unconcerned, she sent the boys to their room to change into the clothes she'd laid out for them for movie night. Of course, Mike had to follow up on any lead regarding Johnny's disappearance.

While she waited, she tidied up the living room. Then she ran the vacuum cleaner. By the time she finished, she had started to worry. There was no way they could make it to dinner now before the movie. Why hadn't Mike called? If he really had found some important information that was keeping him from coming home, he would have let her know.

When Beth finally picked up the phone and dialed Hank, Jake and Ian were running around, busily restoring the neat living room to its usual messy state. "Mom, are we gonna go soon?" Ian asked. "I'm starving!"

"Hello, Stanley residence. May I ask who's calling?" Little Evvy Stanley's telephone manners were impeccable. Beth wished her own boys could take a lesson from the little girl.

"Hello, Evvy. This is Auntie Beth. Could I talk with your Daddy please?"

"Sure." There was a slight clunk as Evvy lay the receiver down. Then Beth heard her shout, "Daaaaaaady! It's Auntie Beth!" at the top of her lungs. So much for those manners.

A minute later, Hank grabbed up the phone. Beth heard him shushing Evvy. "Sorry about that, Beth. What can I do for you?"

Beth spilled out the story about the note and how Mike hadn't come home and hadn't called. "It's so unlike him, Hank. I'm… I'm really getting worried."

"Hey now, it's going to be all right," Hank soothed. "Em and I will be right over. We'll find him, Beth."

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Thursday, 23 November 1972 (Thanksgiving)

Number 27 wasn't sure when he had last slept. Between the bright lights and the ever-repeating sermon, sleep came only in brief snatches. Locked in this cell, he had no sense of the passage of time or anything from before he found himself here. His ability to resist had worn paper thin. At last, he began to see the truth of what the voice was saying.

"I am a man. I am evil," he whispered. "Through obedience I will redeem myself." The lights grew dimmer, a blessed relief. The rules were inside him now, a part of him. Redemption was possible, and he was determined to earn it. He sipped from his tube. The liquid filled his entire body with warmth. Perhaps today he would gain his freedom.

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Hestia smiled as she watched the new Acolyte on a television screen. He might be evil, but he sure was easy on the eyes. She knew he would not be hers. She had never expected it. The price she paid for her high position in Hera's service was a vow of chastity. She had taken it willingly. That didn't mean she couldn't appreciate a handsome face.

When he began reciting the rules along with the voice, she dimmed the lights for him. He kept reciting. The expression on his face as he sipped at his Sustenance was almost euphoric. Hestia banished any pangs of remorse from her heart when she saw him smile. She was helping a lost soul find peace.

Once he had recited the rules several times, she picked up the wooden mallet next to the television screen and used it to sound the gong sitting on the end of her desk. The reverberating tone would summon Hera from her meditations. They had no use for telephones here at the Farm, and shouting was forbidden. This was the only building wired for electricity (well, other than Hera's villa), only because it was needed for preparing the Acolytes for their new lives. Only three people had access — Hera, Hestia, and Nyx, who made sure the new Acolytes' minds were made fully receptive to their initial training and that their specially prepared Sustenance provided all the nutrients they required. This one had resisted longer than most, but he had finally come around.

Hera glided down the stairs, her silver hair drawn back in a smooth bun. The peacock dangled from its chain, a symbol of her divine authority. Hestia stood and made an obeisance. "Number 27 is ready to meet you, my lady."

"Excellent, Hestia. He's the last one. As I always say, the hardest won end up being the most devout. You may record his new name. His former self is dead. He will take vows tomorrow. Then he will receive the name Quinn Everett Lloyd. I have chosen him for Marisol and Cherise."

"Yes, my lady." She unlocked the top drawer of her desk and found the appropriate file. Once she had recorded the information, she placed the folder back in the drawer and secured it.

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When the woman came to the door of his cell, 27 lowered his eyes in submission. His brief glimpse of her face told him little about her. He wasn't sure if she was old or young. Her hair was silver, but her face was smooth. She wore a long white gown that accentuated her height. On the end of a chain around her neck hung a medallion shaped like some bird — his mind was too sluggish to identify it.

She aimed a benevolent smile through the bars. "I am Hera, the Divine," she said, and her voice was the same one that had been floating through the air for as long as he could remember. "You are my son, 27. Have you learned your lessons?"

He licked his lips and answered by reciting the litany he'd memorized. "I am a man. I am evil. Through obedience I will redeem myself. Hera has chosen me to father a new generation. I am thankful for this blessing."

"Excellent," she warbled. Her warm gaze filled him with comfort and reassurance. He would do anything to please her.

"Rest now," she commanded. "Tonight you will be marked as my Acolyte. Tomorrow you will join the others and take your vows." And then she turned and walked away.

After she left, the lights went off, plunging him into blessed darkness, but the recording continued. He took one last drink from the tube, and then obediently drifted into sleep.

He awoke to another woman's presence. She had entered his cell and lifted his tunic, baring his chest. "I am Nyx. It is time for your first marking. With this, you are bound to Hera for your lifetime."

He could not see what she was doing, but the pain she inflicted was intense. Even so, he steeled himself against it. Only the unworthy complained, the rules said, and he who complained lost his tongue. So, he clenched his jaw and let her jab again and again at his chest. When she had finished, she smiled at him. "Well done, 27. Hera will be pleased with my report. You are now an Acolyte of the Marked. You wear Hera's name over your heart, a constant reminder that you belong to her." She backed away from him and closed the cell. "Drink your Sustenance. It will relieve the pain." And then she was gone.

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Beth was in tears. Her mother-in-law stroked her back and murmured over her but could not console her. Sarah Marie Stoker was one of the strongest, kindest women Beth had ever known. Even now, with her son missing, her priority was to comfort her daughter-in-law.

At least the police department had responded quickly when Hank had reported Mike's disappearance the previous day. Usually, they made people wait forty-eight hours before filing a missing person report on an adult, but, considering that five other first responders had vanished in recent weeks, they'd made searching for Mike an immediate priority.

Their first break had come this morning, when they'd found Mike's car in a quiet residential neighborhood not far from Rampart Hospital. On the porch of a squat brick house with a broken front door lock, they had found Mike's wallet. Nothing had been stolen from it, but his driver's license sported a strip of black tape just like had been found on Johnny's badge. A wallet-sized photo of Mike and Beth had Beth's image exed out. On the back of the photo, a note read, "Farewell Michael Stoker, lost to this world. Hera has claimed you."

The handwriting, according to police, did not match that found with John's badge and name tag, and so they wondered whether this was a copycat abduction, though the text of the other note had never been released in the media. One officer had gone so far as to suggest that Mike had fabricated the abduction and run away with a girlfriend. Beth had been furious. The only "other woman" in Mike's life was his car Hannah. If he'd chosen to leave, he would've taken Hannah with him. Beth was just about ready to slap the officer, but Pete Malloy intervened.

"Hey now, Beth. Ed isn't worth the trouble." Then he'd turned to Officer Wells. "You don't know Mike, but I do. He's not the type. He loves his wife, and he sure wouldn't run off on her." Malloy had since been assigned lead officer on the investigation, to Beth's great relief.

Not long after the police left, Beth's in-laws had arrived. Hank had called them early that morning with the bad news that Mike was missing, and they'd set out immediately on the drive from Fresno. Even before she'd married Mike, they'd treated her as if she were their own daughter. Beth called them Mama and Pops. Her own very proper parents had never allowed for such affectionate terms. Now Mama was looking after her and the twins, and Pops was out with Hank and his men, searching for Mike.

At 1:30 in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. Beth scrubbed a sleeve across her tear-streaked face, then hurried to the door. Through the peephole, she saw Officers Malloy and Reed on the front stoop. She turned the knob. "Did you find him?" she asked as the door swung open and she stepped aside for them to enter.

"I'm sorry, no." Jim Reed's compassionate tone should have been comforting, but it fell flat for Beth. "But we do have some developments we wanted to share with you."

Beth led them into the living room, and Mama went to fetch coffee. A minute later, she came back and distributed the hot beverage.

Malloy spooned in some sugar and stirred up his coffee, then took a sip. "Did Mike ever mention a nurse named Ariadne Lloyd?"

Beth's forehead wrinkled up as she thought. "Yes, a few weeks ago. He said she was dating Johnny, that she was really torn up by his disappearance. He felt sorry for her and tried to comfort her."

Malloy nodded. "Right. I've heard the same from a couple other men at 51's. She didn't show up for work today. The house where we found Mike's wallet was the same address on her paperwork at Rampart. The deed wasn't in her name, though. It was purchased by Myra Lloyd almost twenty years ago and has been used by a string of nurses since… all of them with the last name Lloyd. Mortgage payments are made by HEW, Inc."

Beth frowned. "Lloyd? Wasn't that the last name of the pastor whose body you found in the basement of the old church the day Johnny disappeared?"

"You're right," Malloy had another sip of coffee. "And his wife's name was Myra. At first I thought Ariadne could be their daughter, but apparently, they never had children. What's more, I learned that before he became a pastor, Myra's husband was a fireman. Apparently, she developed a real hatred of firemen after Garrett Lloyd filed for a divorce, just before he disappeared."

"Of course, now we know where he ended up," Reed added. "And Myra seems to have done a vanishing act of her own. We can't track her down, can't find any paperwork on this HEW, Inc., either, but we're convinced Myra Lloyd is smack dab in the middle of this thing."

Mama set a plate of food in front of Beth and put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, dear. You've got to keep your strength up. For yourself and for the baby."

Beth started. She hadn't told anyone. She had been going to make the announcement today at dinner. Her eyes filled with new tears.

Mama kissed her head and rubbed soothing circles on her back. "Take heart, love. They'll find him. Our Michael will move heaven and earth to come home to you."

"If he's even —"

"No." Mama rarely raised her voice, but now she did. Somehow, she managed to keep it gentle. "Don't you go there. He's alive, and I won't believe otherwise until we have hard evidence to the contrary. Now, Officers, I'm sorry you're having to work Thanksgiving Day, but I'm grateful for you both. I'd be happy to feed you as well."

"Thank you, Mrs. Stoker." Jim Reed smiled at Mama as he got to his feet. "But we've got to get back out there. For what it's worth, ladies, we aren't going to quit till we find Mike and the others."

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Jo insisted on a Thanksgiving feast over Roy's objections. He had spent much of the day being resentful of this fact, but he knew that his silence hadn't exactly helped his argument. She'd tugged his chin up and looked him in the eyes. "Roy DeSoto," she'd said in that no-nonsense tone that always sent Chris scurrying to pick up his toys. "I am thankful for you and I'm going to celebrate that you are here and alive, that I still have my husband and our children have their father. We'll pray that Johnny and Mike are found and brought home, but we are not going to ignore the blessings we have right here."

He'd sighed and nodded, and when she summoned the family to the table promptly at two in the afternoon, he was nicely dressed in khaki pants and a blue sweater instead of the sweats he favored lately. He took his place at the head of the table. The kids were on either side of the table, Megan in her highchair pounding a fork on the tray, Chris in a booster seat. In the middle of the table was a turkey centerpiece made of pom poms, a craft Chris' teacher had come up with for her class.

Next to Megan was an empty seat. Roy couldn't bring himself to look at it. If things were as they should have been, Johnny would be sitting there, talking a mile a minute, most likely with his mouth full. He might even have brought a date with him. Roy shuddered — it probably would have been Ariadne Lloyd, who was suspected of abducting Mike.

He flexed his hand as Jo placed the platter of ham on the table in front of him. Even if he had no appetite for it, he was grateful he had the strength to carve it. He bowed his head for Jo to speak the blessing, then did the honors.

While Chris chattered, Roy served the ham and passed the plates around. Jo cut up Meggie's serving into tiny pieces and set the child's plastic plate on her tray. He didn't take any for himself until Jo glared at him. Then he shrugged his surrender and laid a slice of ham on his plate. He reached the plate across the table to her, and she spooned green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, corn, and ham gravy onto it. To top it all off, she gave him a dinner roll.

Somehow, eating stoked Roy's appetite. The food was delicious, as always; he had to admit that. In fact, he ended up cleaning his plate and taking seconds on the ham and the green beans. And when it was time for dessert, he didn't refuse the pumpkin pie or Jo's homemade whipped cream. Still, a twinge of guilt troubled him. He couldn't let himself be happy while Johnny and Mike were missing.

He envied Jo's solid faith, a faith she'd learned from his mom while he was off serving as a medic in Vietnam. A faith he'd all but given up when a brain tumor stole his dad's life from their family bit by bit when he was in high school. The Bible said give thanks in all circumstances, and Jo was determined to do just that, even when it was hard to see anything to be thankful for.

No. That wasn't fair. Roy looked around the table, sudden understanding forcing its way through his thick skull. Like Jo said, he was alive. He had more time to watch his kids grow, to love them and be loved by them. Chris and Megan were healthy and happy. And Jo? She was his most steadfast supporter, the woman he adored. He wasn't sure how he had ever doubted her love. If he spent every day from now to when they were old and grey, he could never make it up to her for all that she'd done for him. He reached for Chris and Meggie's hands. "J-jo?"

She looked up from her pie and smiled at him, then seemed to realize what he wanted. She also joined hands with the kids. Roy sucked in a deep breath as he gazed at Jo. "I am so thankful," he said slowly. "For y-you all."