Elizabeth stared at Genevieve, her mouth hanging open. "You killed a Mountie? On purpose?"

Genevieve shook her head, an agonized look on her face. "No! Not on purpose. It was self-defense…" Her voice trailed off. "But who would believe that? A Mountie is dead because of me."

"What happened?" Elizabeth said, her voice barely over a whisper. She didn't want to spook Genevieve, and she had a feeling this part of the story was what had propelled the young woman to thieving.

"He was manhandling me," Genevieve said, the memory clearly a painful one. "Hitting me, yelling at me because I didn't have dinner on the table fast enough. He had been drinking and he lost his temper." Fear shone in her eyes. "I was terrified he was going to kill me. He said he was done with me, that I had no purpose left and my life was worthless. I managed to get away, and when he tried to grab me again, I pushed him as hard as I could. He was drunk, and he fell and hit his head and stopped moving." She bit her lip, looking torn between relief and pain at telling her story. "I ran away that day and haven't looked back."

"How long ago was this?" Elizabeth asked.

"A year," Genevieve said woodenly.

"And the Mountie? Was he your husband?"

"No," Genevieve said, sniffling. "He was my father."

"Your father!" Elizabeth blinked. "Your father was abusive?"

Genevieve nodded, more tears sliding down her cheeks. "Everyone thought he hung the moon. He was a Mountie beyond compare. But at home, he was a terror." Bitterness filled her voice. "He put bad guys away by day. At night he drank and abused my mother, my brother, and me." Her voice hardened further. "Several of his Mountie friends saw the way he treated us, and they didn't do a thing to prevent it. They looked the other way, pretending nothing had happened."

Once again, Elizabeth's heart hurt for Genevieve. "I'm so sorry," she said. "No one should go through something like that." She hesitated. "But why steal?" she asked softly. "Why not find a job and hold on to a steady income?"

Genevieve's chin trembled. "I had no work experience, no education. Most people wouldn't hire me. And the ones who did were in small towns I couldn't hide in, like Brookfield. I had to keep moving, and after a while my lack of references became a problem. I couldn't hold down a job. I...I had to steal just to survive." Tears spilled from her eyes. "I didn't want to steal, but it was either that or become a...a lady of the night. And I wasn't desperate enough for that." She paused. "Yet."

Elizabeth shuddered to think of her tethered to a fate like that. "How long have you been stealing, Genevieve?"

Genevieve was quiet for a time before raising shame-filled eyes to Elizabeth. "Four months." Her lip quivered. "But I promise it was only from rich people who wouldn't miss the jewelry." She looked down again. "Not that that makes it any better. Stealing is still stealing."

Elizabeth nodded. "You're right, stealing is still wrong. But you had extenuating circumstances that most people don't have to worry about." She put a hand on Genevieve's arm. "Let's tell Nathan your story. He can talk to the judge."

Genevieve looked downcast. "You can imagine I don't have a lot of faith in Mounties," she said quietly. "No offense, but I don't know your husband from Adam. I can't imagine why he would want to help me, a complete stranger."

Elizabeth leaned forward. "You don't know Hope Valley. We take care of people here." She stood. "If you can't trust Nathan, will you trust me?"

"I...I…" Genevieve looked at a loss for words. Elizabeth put a hand on her shoulder. "What do you have to lose? You're facing a long time in prison if you don't tell your side of the story. Is that really what you want?"

"No," Genevieve whispered.

Elizabeth looked directly into her eyes. "Then I'll ask you again: will you trust me?"

Genevieve bit her lip. She didn't answer for several long moments. Finally, she gave a single nod.

Elizabeth smiled. "I'll get Nathan."

Bill stared at Nathan in disbelief. "Let me get this straight. You want me to hear out this young woman's claims and make a decision based on sentiment?"

"No," Nathan said, leaning back in his chair. "I want you to listen to all the facts and make a decision based on that."

Bill shook his head. "You realize I'm going to have to call Mountie Headquarters to see about this story on her father. I want all the facts there first before I hear what she has to say. Understand?"

Nathan nodded. Bill cocked a brow. "You win this round, Nathan. I'll get on the phone with headquarters now. Come see me in a couple hours. I might have something by then."

"Thanks, Bill," Nathan said, rising. "See you in a bit." He walked out of the Office of the Judge and headed down the street, thinking back to Genevieve's story. He had come back into the Mountie office at his wife's request, where Genevieve had haltingly told him what she had told Elizabeth. He had turned off his Mountie persona and put on his fatherly one. All he could see in her eyes was Allie. If his precious girl had been left in Matthias's hands, who was to say she wouldn't have ended up in a situation like Genevieve's? He felt his anger rising as she talked about her abuse at the hands of her father, a man who should have known better. No one should ever harm another person, but the fact that he was a Mountie made it even worse.

He made his rounds, checking in on residents on the outskirts of town. By the time he was done, a couple of hours had passed, and he made his way back to Bill's office. He knocked to announce his presence, then came in. "Did you find anything?" he asked.

"Yes," Bill said, steepling his fingers. "Something very interesting." He motioned for Nathan to take a seat.

Settling into the chair, Nathan looked at Bill expectantly. "Well?"

"I was able to track down Genevieve's father," Bill said. "Abraham Elliott. Name ring a bell?"

Nathan frowned. "Yes, it does." He searched his memory. "Wasn't he a high-ranking Mountie who fell from grace?"

Bill nodded. "Exactly. I knew Elliott personally. Never liked him." He snorted. "He was accused of molestation and abuse of a minor eight months ago, which sent him to prison. About a month later, he had a heart attack and died in his cell."

"Wait, what?" Nathan said, confused. "I thought Genevieve said…"

Bill shook his head. "She wasn't responsible for her father's death. He hit his head and was knocked out for a short time, but he recovered just fine. He was livid, and started trying to track down his daughter, but he never found her. Then he was accused and convicted."

"She didn't cause his death," Nathan said slowly. "That poor woman has been running for over a year because she thought he died due to her actions. But he didn't." He passed a hand over his face before looking at Bill once more. "Did you find anything else?"

Bill nodded. "Looks like she was telling the truth about only stealing from wealthy people. I still can't overlook the stealing, though. You know that, right?"

"I know," Nathan said quietly. "But it doesn't mean jail time has to happen, right?"

Bill skewered him with a look. "Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?"

"Not at all," Nathan said, raising a brow. "But you have to admit, sometimes second chances change a person for the better in ways a jail cell never could."

"Perhaps," Bill conceded. "Bring her in. We'll do this hearing now."

Nathan followed directions, going to the jail to get Genevieve. Elizabeth was still there, sitting with her. "I'm coming too," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Nathan simply nodded, and the three of them went to Bill's office.

Nathan rarely saw Bill in judge mode, but now he saw the gruff exterior meet a soft heart. As Bill listened to Genevieve's side of the story, he didn't say much, though both Nathan and Elizabeth could see that he was touched. Genevieve, on the other hand, having no knowledge of who Bill was, was terrified. Her words were halting and broken, but she got them out. When she was done, Nathan gave his testimony and provided Gabe's written testimony. Bill took it all under advisement and then looked at Genevieve.

"Before I give you your sentence, there's something you need to know," he said.

Genevieve braced herself, leaning hard against Elizabeth without a word. Bill continued. "You told me you think the Mounties are looking for you, correct? For killing your father?"

She nodded, her face white.

Bill's tone gentled. "You didn't kill your father, Miss Elliott. He died in prison earlier this year."

Genevieve's already white face paled even more. "What?" she said faintly. "How can you know that?"

"I looked up your father," Bill said. "Turns out he was convicted for abuse. That day you pushed him, he didn't die. He was fine. Your father died of a heart attack. Nothing you did had any bearing on his death." He looked her in the eye. "You're not on trial for killing anyone."

Relief flooded Genevieve's face, but the troubled look didn't disappear. "But I am on trial for stealing."

Bill nodded. "Oh yes, absolutely. Now," he said, looking down at his paper, "you said you've stolen from fifteen couples in the past several months, five of which were in Brookfield. All those jewels have been returned." He glanced at her. "Why so many in Brookfield?"

Genevieve looked down, an ashamed look on her face. "I almost had enough money to buy a train ticket to America," she said quietly. "I thought I'd be able to start a new life there. I just needed some money to get on my feet, and I heard that several wealthy couples would be staying in Brookfield."

"All the jewels were returned to the couples in Brookfield," Bill said. "Which means there are ten more that need restitution." He sat back. "Do you still have the jewels or the money for them?"

"Not...all of it," Genevieve said. "I sold some for food and to have money for lodging." She looked down. "I think I have about half of the money I made from selling the jewelry. It's in my room at the Brookfield hotel."

Bill looked at Nathan. "Can you confirm that with Constable Kinslow?"

Nathan nodded. Genevieve looked between them, clutching tightly to Elizabeth's hand. "How long am I going to jail?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Bill leaned back. "Well now, Miss Elliott, that depends. How long of a sentence do you think your crime deserves?" He crossed his arms. "Keep in mind that most people who steal only once are sent to prison for a couple of years."

Genevieve blanched. Bill looked like he regretted the question, and he quickly spoke again. "In normal circumstances, I would sentence you to five years. But these are not normal circumstances." He looked at Nathan. "There's no need to transport the prisoner. She can stay in the local jail."

Nathan arched a brow, wondering where Bill was going with this. The Hope Valley jail was not built for long-term sentences.

Bill looked at Genevieve. "This crime cannot go without jail time. Therefore, I sentence you to a week in our jail, and then you will work at a local business to repay your remaining debt to those you stole from. Understood?"

Genevieve blinked. "A week? That's it?"

Bill raised a brow. "Unless you would prefer longer?"

She shook her head quickly. "No! Not at all." She looked between the three of them in the room. "I don't understand. Why are you helping me? I know I deserve a long sentence for what I did."

"That right there is why you're not getting one," Bill said. "I've seen a lot of cases in my time as a Mountie, a sheriff, and a judge. Criminals are rarely this penitent. And I knew your father." His face hardened. "Most people liked him, but I saw through the facade. Never liked the man. And knowing what he did to you and your family makes me sick." He shrugged. "So maybe this is my way of sticking it to him even though he's no longer alive."

A small smile appeared on Genevieve's face. "No one's ever taken my side before," she said, sounding awed. "No one ever believed us over him."

Bill leaned forward. "Miss Elliott, I believe you. And I know Nathan and Elizabeth do as well. Your father no longer has a hold over you." He nodded to Nathan. "My sentence is final. You'll spend the next week in a jail cell, and then we'll get you to work to make restitution for your crime. Case adjourned," he said, banging his cup on the table before looking at it ruefully. "I really need a gavel."