Thunderstorms

by Romantic Nerd

Thunderstorms come sweeping though one's life from time to time. William and Julia must cope with a series of crises that threaten everything. They will need to solve multiple crimes and save their own necks under highly stressful situations. Fortunately they are incredibly strong when they work together.

12. Chapter 12

Thunderstorms – Continued

Chapter 12: Wednesday, August 13, 1913

He took her hand and they ran for their lives towards the clearing, lightning-bolt strikes seeming to come from every direction, defining their way through the woods. Torrents of rain and deafening thunder drowned out the pounding of their hearts and their desperate breathing. Soaked, slimy, branches scratched across her face as the metronomic beat played in her head, "Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods?" The clearing in sight, she wanted to let up, but William pulled her forward with increasing force. He knew that they were most vulnerable when they thought they had almost made it to the clearing, but hadn't yet actually done so. In the center of the field, they halted and he held her eye firmly. Out of breath, raindrops pelting his face, he reminded her that they needed to send the electrical current from the life-threatening lightning down an alternate path, sparing their cores, saving their hearts. They squatted, facing each other. "Keep your heels off of the ground and touching each other," he instructed her. Ominous, long, thin shadows darkened their periphery and slowly began to creep in towards them. "This is it William," she said, looking into his beautiful eyes, knowing with certainty that a more powerful love had never been, would never be. He leaned his head closer to her ear and the world began to spin as he whispered, somehow eradicating the noise of the storm with his handsome voice, "Don't give up hope, Julia."

Suddenly it was bright, quiet. A fluttering sound close by having called her attention … She was awake, in William's office, in his reclining chair, in his arms. He slept, his slow, deep breathing helping to ground her. "Something's wrong," she thought … "Oh my God – The children! They're gone!" Her heart raced with the thought, and a strange dizziness and gravitational sinking took her ability to breathe. Again the same fluttering sound drew her attention. She looked to the window behind William's desk – "Just a bird, its wings flapping against the glass," – she reassured herself, as it scurried about searching for food and squabbling with others. She looked back to see if her movement had woken him. Still peaceful, the sight of him healing her panic, she sighed, "My God I love him so," she thought. As if it were whispered in her ear, she heard it, "Mommy, Daddy's sleeping," Chelsea's small, child voice warming and breaking her heart in the same moment. Against her will, tears welled in her eyes, her throat choked – the ache took hold. She needed him. She took a breath, gave-up on being silent to preserve his sleep, knowing the inhalation would shake and squeak with her distress, and she huddled closer to him, burrowing her tear-soaked face in his chest.

William stirred, his still-soft body and calm breathing betraying to her that he had not yet remembered – that for this one brief second in time, he did not know, that their children were in peril. She waited, dreading seeing the anguish invade his tranquil face. His eyelids opened and their eyes met. "Concern for my tears," she thought at first, only to see it become replaced by fear as he remembered their plight, and then to her surprise, anger as his jaw tightened and his pupils focused.

Inside him the rage was so potent it made him nauseous. "How dare someone threaten my children; Julia – Make her cry," the thought raced through his mind. Anger pumping through him, he felt it's power. He would fight. He carefully wiped a tear from her cheek and said, "It's time for offense now Julia. We must find who is doing this – it's the only way to stop them."

His strength and confidence was contagious, and she felt inspired to fight as well. "Shall we then detective?" she asked as she gazed into his eyes finding it felt like home. They paused for a moment, one of those times when they each had been caught off guard by the strength of their pull on each other, breath halted, a silent hum in their ears.

Need took him, and while holding her eye, he took a deep breath. Out on the fringe of her vision, she noticed the movement of his white undershirt as his chest rose and dropped. It brought her back into the movement of reality, she breathed as well. He smiled, recognizing the connection, treasuring the moment they had just shared, and then leaned over to pull the lever to bring the reclining chair into its upright position as he said, "Yes, let's."

Having packed a fresh set of clothes and other sundries, they were able to change in William's office, privacy provided by the lowered blinds, and use the constabulary bathroom, and begin their day. Julia headed over to the morgue to check in with Miss James and planned on coming back quickly to work with William to solve the case, to stop the people threatening them and their children – to be safe. The morgue was very quiet, Miss James just re-stocking some of the supplies. Still on her desk from yesterday, from before the children were lost (Julia had found that life had come to be divided up based on that one tragic event, events either happening before or after the world seemed to change) she found his "reminders" of his love for her. The red roses had opened up to their ultimate peek, the early morning sun illuminating them as if they were on the stage. The box of chocolates sat on top of her calendar. She chuckled to herself at her body's reaction to seeing the box – she salivated, her stomach even growled. She remembered they had not eaten dinner in their panic. She would bring the box over and share them with William, "A healthy breakfast," inside, she giggled.

As Julia walked in the stationhouse door, carrying the box of chocolates, she saw William, the Inspector and Detective Gulliver picking up their messages at the tall front desk. Brackenreid's eyes grew large with excitement upon seeing that he had been sent a case of scotch as the constable behind the desk softly grunted, lifting it up to place it on the high surface.

Murdoch was immediately suspicious of foul play and quickly stopped the Inspector from removing the package from its perch. He had noticed that the brand name was not the same as the one the Inspector usually drank, further, there had now been multiple attempts to kill people at the constabulary, the Inspector himself specifically. "Sir, did you order any of this brand of scotch to be delivered here?" he asked.

Looking unhappy, he thought for a second and then grumpily replied, "No Murdoch, but it is also a good brand…" before he realized the threat. Quickly he said, "Oh, oh I see… Yes of course Murdoch, it is suspicious indeed."

Murdoch pulled up a chair and stood on it to better examine the package on the high front desk. "It says here that the sender is a Councilman Johnson. Do you know such a man sir? Murdoch asked.

Brackenreid took a deep breath, "No I do not," he said.

"Do you think it has been booby-trapped?" Julia asked, knowing it would be a moment before he answered because he had that look he gets when he is running scenarios through his mind, his head tilted to the side with a focused, nearly cross-eyed stare.

After a moment he responded, "It is certainly possible. Perhaps a bomb … or even aconite poison again." He climbed down from the chair and talked through a plan with them. Anyone working with the package would need to wear gloves in case it was booby-trapped with poison. Dr. Ogden went to get a few pairs from the morgue. If it was a bomb it would likely be based on the landmine design he had seen in Flate's weapons plans. That would mean they would need to have a way to continue to keep the button on the top of the bomb pressed down while the package was opened. He figured that they could use a knife to cut the top of the box off around the edges, then cut and pull the sides down enough to look inside. It was determined that Murdoch and Gulliver would perform the operation. Everyone else waited outside as a precaution.

Indeed there was a landmine under the first row of scotch bottles. Murdoch had been able to determine that the button was held down by pressure from the middle bottle. Gulliver maintained the pressure on the button by pushing on the center bottle, while Murdoch removed the bottles to each side of it. Then Murdoch slid the knife-blade in between the button and the bottom of the bottle that Gulliver was holding in place. Gulliver lifted the bottle away and it did not blow. Murdoch slowly slid the blade off of one side of the button to place his finger on it. Once he could push down on the button with his finger, then the blade could be completely removed. Now all he needed to do, assuming this bomb matched the design he'd studied, was to twist the button to the right to lock it back down in place.

Whew, it worked. Murdoch had saved the day! – Or at least that part of it. Murdock applied tape to the top of the bomb to ensure no one would accidently untwist, and thus re-arm, the bomb. He asked it be brought down to the armory and packed in a box labeled "landmine."

As the constabulary filed back into the station, the mood was celebratory, veins pumped full of adrenaline that needed to be burned off. There were cheers and compliments and pats on the back for the two brave men. The Inspector opened a bottle of the new scotch, pleased, "as bloody hell that it hadn't been blown up either," and offered a drink to all.

Surprised by the action, Murdoch pulled his pocket-watch away from his vest to glance at the time and protested, "But sir, it's just after eight o'clock in the morning."

"William, don't spoil it," Julia urged with a whisper.

William was not only taken aback by the lack of meeting moral standards, but also by the potential danger. He answered, "That bottle came directly from a package that was rigged with a bomb! Don't you think it might also be …"

Julia pulled back and looked at him with disparagement, able to hold the serious expression only briefly before a smile grew on her face. William braced himself, knowing one of her jokes would soon follow. "Now William, I'm sure the murderer would have considered also poisoning the scotch to be 'overkill' hmm?" she teasingly asked. William ducked his chin, twisted up a corner of his mouth, and raised an eyebrow at her, prompting her to giggle. His heart warmed, but he rolled his eyes to express his impatience with the whole situation. He joined her and Detective Gulliver as they went into the Inspector's office to plan the day.

Hunger driving Julia to distraction, she invited William to sit next to her on the Inspector's couch and she opened the box of chocolates on her lap. William's face betrayed his eagerness. They wolfed them down while they spoke. The Inspector, likely not knowing it was the closest thing to a meal the couple had eaten in nearly 24 hours, reached into the box and took one for himself, his triumphant mood still ruling his decisions. They set up a protocol of wearing gloves whenever opening mail, at least until the culprits of these attacks had been captured. All packages were to be dealt with as hazardous, particularly if they were not from an expected sender. The Inspector called Margaret and warned her about opening any mail sent to their hotel. She was coming by to get some gloves from Dr. Ogden.

In an effort to find the children, Dr. Ogden would be calling everyone they could think of who might have been a person the children would have thought of as safe to run to. She would use the phone in the morgue to keep the phone lines here in the stationhouse clear for any essential incoming calls. There was hope that the children, or whomever they had gone to, would call. Murdoch would develop and analyze the photos from the scrutiny cameras in their home to see if they offered any more clues as to who was after them, and now their children.

Murdoch talked through his thoughts on the clues they had from the case, and the best corresponding actions to take in light of those clues. He explained that Higgins had discovered that Dawes and Rodriguez had married in Spain but recently returned to Canada. They had left the address provided by the consulate, but Higgins had some leads to follow to figure out where they were and would be following up on them. He suggested that Detective Gulliver go with Higgins.

William also wanted his wife to attempt to talk with Miss Ward, figuring that Julia's current predicament, having her children abducted – at least that was how they had presented it to the press, most likely by the same people who were threatening Miss Ward's children, might draw her sympathy and encourage her to give up the mastermind. Julia agreed to try.

They also planned to follow Isabel Webster's trail as she impersonated "Harriet Ward" after she was released from prison with the hope of finding their prime suspect in the three killings (Lynch, the coroner - Reynolds, and the former Miss Dawes, now Mrs. Rodriguez). Murdoch was still troubled by the black-ink footprints he found at the Don Jail visiting room. He suspected they were Connor's … But if Connor wasn't visiting Miss Webster in prison, as she had been released as Miss Ward by the time the footprints were made, then who was he visiting? There certainly were connections between Webster and Connor. Clegg had told them that his spy, Jane, reported that Connor was running an illegal weapons business and that Flate (the first man found dead after his experiment on his boat had failed) had provided him with the plans and had been helping with the engineering of the construction of the weapons. And then some of those very same weapons had been used in the attempted murders of Dr. Ogden and himself at the site where Dawes' body had been found, providing a strong link between Webster and Connor. This had to be bigger than just the two of them – especially when considering the bombing of the Inspector's home with a dirigible and now this package-bomb this morning.

Once William brought up the bombing of the Inspector's house, Julia was reminded of her intention to ask him if he thought it was a good idea to offer their guest quarters to Margaret and the Inspector. She decided to do so when they were alone. She did so, and they quickly returned to the Inspector's office and made the offer, suggesting they wait until after the current cases were solved before they would move in. The Inspector liked the idea, thanked them for the offer, and said he would discuss it with his wife.

Julia went to the morgue to make some calls. Having no luck finding the children after about six calls, she received a call from the stationhouse asking her to come over to talk with Miss Ward.

Julia spoke with Harriet Ward in the Interview Room as William watched from outside. She could see the woman was torn, that she felt Julia's pain as a mother whose children were in grave danger, but in the end Miss Ward had said, "I know the morals of the people here at the constabulary will not allow them to kill or harm my children, however, if I tell you who threatened my children and made me switch places with Miss Webster, then my children are as good as dead. I am so sorry your children have been taken Julia, I truly am. But I would rather face my own death than let that happen." Julia convinced William not to let Miss Ward be returned to the Don Jail until the mastermind behind all of this had been caught. He agreed to keep her in custody at the stationhouse until her trial for aiding and abetting the escape of a prisoner was held and her sentence passed down. They both hoped she would get off with time already served.

Margaret stopped by, intending to offer comfort to Julia as she remembered Julia had given her much solace when her youngest son, Bobby, had been abducted so many years before. Her compassion and effort did help. Julia thanked her for her companionship and special empathy that only another mother could likely have. They discussed the offer extended by Julia and William for them to stay in their guest quarters until the reconstruction of the Brackenreid's house was finished. It was agreed that they would do so as soon as this case was solved. They hugged each other and then Julia went back to work in the morgue. She wanted to get back to making calls – desperation seeming to take her in waves, she nearly ran across the street to get back to her search.

William had begun developing the pictures from the two scrutiny cameras he had placed at the front and back doors of their home. Julia was speaking to him from the other side of the curtain, filling him in on who she had called when Meyers entered the office.

"Dr. Ogden," he said, "How do you manage to look so beautiful even under such stress?" Before she had a chance to reply he quickly went on, "I came by to offer my condolences and offer my help – the papers tell of your children being missing, likely abducted. Is this correct?" he took a puff on his cigar while waiting for her to respond.

William had decided he didn't care if the pictures he was currently working on got overexposed, he was getting out there! His jealousy had been roused by Meyers' "you look so beautiful," comment, and he wanted to nip the whole affair in the bud. Before the curtain had opened, and before Julia could once again attempt to answer Meyers, William's voice could be heard from the back room, "Mr. Meyers …" he said slowly, sounding sarcastically surprised, he pushed open the curtain and said, "Your sympathy is appreciated, but I wonder, do you have spies in places that would likely be of any help… I mean would they have been privy to where our children might have been taken?"

Julia realized that William did not intend to inform Meyers that they believed their children had escaped capture. She wasn't sure why, but she would play along. "Oh Terrence," she said, drawing a dirty look from her husband for using his given name once again, but hoping to endear Meyers and inspire him to provide any help finding the children he could, "Do you think you could help us find them?"

William felt sick to his stomach. He took a deep breath and tried to convince himself to remain quiet.

Meyers exhaled, cigar smoke lingering in the air around him, causing his eyes to squint, the resulting sneaky look challenging William to rally against his distrust. "I will certainly do all I can," he answered her.

"Good," William said, as if it had been him that Meyers had spoken to. "Now, we do have an awful lot on our plate …"

"Yes," Meyers said, "Speaking of the case Murdoch, do you find it at all odd that Mr. Clegg has not been around harping on and on about how incompetent Canada is by not finding this Connor and his "spy," Jane, yet?"

Murdoch felt better, more on solid ground now. "Uh, well yes… I sent some constables down to the docks with Clegg's photo yesterday. Let me follow up and get back to you on that," he replied, feeling good about having been one step ahead of the man. Meyers bid them good day and went to meet with the Inspector.

Constable Morris knocked on Murdoch's open door. "Sir, there's a call for you – a Dr. Tash," he said. William and Julia shared a look. Hope grew in their eyes.

"Of course, he had been taking William Jr. to his swimming lessons at the Club!" William exclaimed. Julia listened on as William spoke to Isaac, her optimism dwindling as the conversation indicated that the children were not with him. William hung up the phone and explained, "Tash's office was broken into last night… Likely the same men who were looking for the children…" he said with a wrinkle of the corner of his mouth indicating he wasn't sure.

Julia nodded in agreement and added, "Yes, likely. They were probably able to learn that he was a family friend. They might have suspected that the children would have fled to him." Apprehension and worry overtook her face. She said, her voice raising a few octaves showing her stress, "William, that means that the men who invaded our home know the children are hiding somewhere, among our friends…" Panic seized her heart, "William, they are hunting for the children," she cried, her face wrinkling up as she fought back tears.

He could not deny it. His silence told her he agreed with her assessment, the thought sending her nearly over the edge. She felt dizzy, and reached out for the stool needing to sit so as not to fall. William hurried from behind his desk to take her in his arms. Her face tucked in against his shoulder he spoke into her ear, "Julia, we have to stay focused … follow every clue, hmm?" He felt her nod and then take a deep breath, working to pull herself together. They decided she should would go back to the morgue and call everyone they knew. She would not only ask if they had heard from the children, but also try to determine if they had been visited or noticed anyone watching them, and if so, get a description. Perhaps it could help lead to the men who had attempted to abduct the children.

Murdoch escorted her to the front door of the stationhouse. He stopped in the bullpen to find a constable to bring in the motel clerk from the Maramount Motel – the motel where he had found Jane and where he had been knocked unconscious, most likely by Connor. He believed the clerk had lied about knowing Connor. He wanted a chance to try to get more information out of the man.

Gulliver and Higgins returned to report that there was a neighbor near the first home Miss Webster went to after her escape who recognized her as Miss Webster by the photo. She said she had moved out within a week or so. She left no forwarding address and no one knew where she had moved to – the trail had run dry. Detective Gulliver accompanied Murdoch back to his office. He was shown how to develop film while Murdoch re-did the last photos he had over-exposed when Meyers had shown up.

After finishing developing the pictures from the scrutiny camera, William was very disturbed by what he saw. There had been at least eight men enter the house, every single one of them was armed with the weapons drawn. His gut instinct told him they looked intent on killing, more than abducting, the children. Fear crept up his back – the danger had been much more perilous than they had believed. Never before had he been more relieved that he had built the secret passageways and tunnel in the house. Terrified by the thought of what would have been if the secret escape route weren't there, he pushed it away, forcing himself to address Gulliver rather than allow the thought to continue. He asked Gulliver's opinion on what he believed was the most likely intent of the men based on what he saw in the photos. Gulliver voiced the same impression. William knew his next step. They would need to go back to the house and look for any clues to help determine who the men were.

There was a constable on guard at the house. He claimed there had been no suspicious activity. Once inside, Murdoch introduced Eloise and her husband to Detective Gulliver and then they went about searching the house for evidence. The scrutiny camera showed that all of the men wore gloves, so they didn't check for fingermarks. They took some photos of shoeprints – it had rained early Tuesday morning, William remembered, thinking of the janitor's body they had found struck by lightning, so the men who had went through the backdoor had mud from the side of the house on their shoes. They also took casts of the shoeprints in the mud around side at house, knowing they would need to eliminate those that matched constables at the scene.

Detective Gulliver found an important clue – one that supported the theory that the men had had murderous intentions. In the living-room, in the wall by the curtain, he found a bullet lodged in the wall. They figured that the curtain had moved in the breeze and the shooter reacted as if it were one of the children moving. The bullet came from a .38 caliber handgun. Back at the station Murdoch would have the caliber and striation pattern matched against all of the 38mm bullets they have in their files. It would be a long and tedious job. Perhaps it would get them a name, an address… Chelsea's favorite stuffed bear was missing. There was some dried mud on the floor near her bed. Maybe one of the men had taken it, or perhaps Chelsea took the beloved toy with her. Otherwise, they didn't find anything else.

Upon returning back at the station, Murdoch was informed that Clegg had been seen down by the docks by the manager of a textile factory at the end of Bowling Avenue. Clegg was said to be asking questions about a doxie. The man recognized the photo of Jane, saying Clegg had a picture of the same woman. He told him the same thing he'd told the constable earlier, that the woman looked familiar, but he could not be certain. Clegg had taken his leave. Murdoch asked the Inspector if he could send a few constables to search the textile factory. He argued that he suspected the weapons business was harbored within a textile factory because that would explain the white cotton fibers found on Flate's and Lynch's clothing as well as the black ink found on the soles of their shoes. The Inspector said he would put in a call to a judge to see if he could authorize such a search.

Murdoch worked to add the new information to his blackboard. Crabtree knocked at the door, there was a call from Higgins. He had followed up on a hunch about the possible whereabouts of the Rodriguez's latest home. He believed he had found a crime scene. Even though there was no report of a body, Murdoch wanted Dr. Ogden to join them in investigating the scene.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Murdoch, Ogden, and Gulliver shared a carriage to the crime scene Higgins had called in. The trip was relatively long, taking them outside of Stationhouse #4's jurisdiction, and each of them was entertaining their own thoughts. Gulliver was reflecting on his actions propositioning Julia, and the resulting shame he felt. Knowing his own situation, he wasn't completely surprised by his feelings for her, but that they were so strong, that their intensity drove him to behave so irrationally surprised him. It turned out that he ended up admiring her even more, knowing now that she, a classy woman with a generous and empathic heart despite being a TOFF, had fallen in love with, and even married, a lowly copper, like himself. He sighed, but no one seemed to notice.

William struggled with how to tell Julia about the recently discovered clues that pointed towards the men's intentions to kill the children. He was very tempted not to tell her at all. He knew it would cause her immense worry, it had him…

Julia took a deep breath as she pulled herself out of her inner thoughts and asked, "So, did you find anything of interest at the house?" Her medical bag on her lap, she leaned forward to catch her husband's eye. Detective Gulliver also turned to look at Murdoch, wondering if he would reveal the scariest evidence to her or shield her from the news. William sighed. Julia prepared herself, knowing his facial expressions well enough by now to see his conflict. He dropped his eye and entertained his internal battle. It took too long, raising her apprehension. "William?" she pushed.

His decision already made, he pushed himself to tell her, figuring he would only disclose the actual evidence, not the conclusions he had drawn from it. He took a deep breath and lifted his face to meet hers, "Yes… We found shoeprints… And, um, we found a bullet in the wall," he said, trying to sound as unaffected as possible. "We might be able to match the striations …"

"A bullet?" she asked, interrupting him.

William wrinkled up a corner of his mouth – his "I'm sorry look," and nodded.

Julia's face began to wrinkle with fear, her voice taking on a slight squeakiness she asked, "In the wall?"

William started to answer her, "Yes, it was in the wall near …"

Julia looked outright panicked now as she speculated, "William, were they shooting at the children through the walls … they heard them, as they tried to escape in the secret passageways? Oh my God William, was there any blood?"

He took her face in his hands, assertively fixed his eyes to hers and reassured her, "No blood Julia. They got away. We know they got away. Claire-Marie was with them. She told us they got away – that William Jr. knew a place to go." He tenderly kissed her cheek, tears now rolling down it.

She was very upset, having to push to get her words out. Her voice telling that she was so terrorized that she was beside herself, she said, "But William, those men are out there right now looking for them … and …" her head dropped down as she fell towards his chest, seeking comfort in his arms. She inhaled a shaky breath, "And they are …" Unable to find comfort in his arms, sure there was nowhere to find comfort, she lifted her head back up and struggled to say her greatest fear, "Oh my God William, they are looking for the children to kill them!"

"Perhaps," he whispered. William took another deep breath, trying to channel her to do the same, to help her calm down. "But Julia, we are looking for them too. And we know a lot more about where they might go than these criminals do, hmm?" he said working to soothe her, and then tilting his head down below her face to catch her eye.

Julia leaned back and planted the back of her head into the carriage wall. She looked up to the heavens and breathed in deeply. "I feel like I'm going to throw up," she warned, her extreme degree of distress apparent.

"Not my chocolates," William said. To his great relief she giggled.

"No, not your chocolates," she said, the panic lessening in her voice. Keeping her head plastered back in the seat, finding comfort in the wall's rigid support, she took a breath and found his eyes with a sideways glance, "God I love you," she said.

"And I you," he replied, reaching up to cup her cheek with his hand and stroke a tear away with his thumb.

Gulliver marveled at the couple, touched by their honesty and care for each other. He knew it was something he had never known, not from his mother, nor anyone else in his life, and he knew, sadly, that he probably never would. "Not in my cards," he thought, before his mind moved forward to think about the case.

Higgins stood in front of the little cottage waiting for them to arrive. As they dismounted from the carriage he explained that he had thought to check for historical homes of the famous artist, Clavell, remembering that Carl Rodriguez believed he was Clavell reincarnated, and that Miss Dawes was actually his lover, Jane Kleet. The archives showed that Clavell lived here for a time. There was a lot of blood in the house – he figured this may be where Dawes, now Mrs. Rodriguez, was killed. Murdoch was truly very impressed with Henry's insight, memory and initiative, telling him so with a tip of his hat.

As he approached the house, Murdoch's stomach flipped over, being reminded of the inherent danger they faced as they investigated this, or any, crime scene under their current circumstances. The team was walking towards the door. He stopped, the others following suit. They needed to come up with a plan. Higgins had already entered, no booby-trap at the door. William looked to Julia, "Did you bring enough gloves for everyone?" he asked. She had and they all put gloves on before entering the home. Murdoch warned them to thoroughly investigate for trip wires or any other signs of foul play before opening any closets, etc.

Once inside, it was obvious that, assuming all this blood was human, someone, perhaps even two people, had been killed here. There were swathes of blood, suggesting a bloody body had been dragged and flung around. Blood splatter patterns on the walls and across parts of the floor suggested bludgeoning with an object, Julia speculated a bat by the sizes of the wounds on Dawes, if she was the victim here. William found chop marks on the floor. And a spot with a large pool of blood indicated that someone had died right there, bleeding out from either a gunshot wound, or maybe a knife wound. The chop marks led William to speculate that an axe had been used. Perhaps a body had been cut into smaller pieces.

Gulliver found multiple pieces of a body in an icebox in the basement. The head showed that it was the body of Mr. Rodriguez. Dr. Ogden stated that there was a bullet wound to the back of the head, the probable cause of death. Minimal blood around in the basement led her to suggest that the body had been chopped up elsewhere and then the pieces brought down to the icebox. The chop marks on the floor upstairs indicated that the body had been chopped up on the first floor. Dr. Ogden's best guess, based on the blood at the scene, was that Rodriguez had been shot before he was cut up. They later found both of the suspected implements used in committing the crime, a bloody bat and a bloody axe. No gun was found at the scene.

Murdoch asked the doctor about the time of death. Julia responded, "Well, of course, the cold temperature of the body in this case will make it hard to be certain – I won't be able to know how long he was left outside before he was put in the icebox. It is most likely that he died somewhere between three to six days ago. I am not sure I will be able to narrow it down more than that."

"So, it is conceivable then that he was killed on Sunday – the same time as Miss Dawes?" Murdoch asked.

Julia turned away from him. He watched as slowly her shoulders drooped and her body began to shake. She was crying, sobbing, weeping. Gulliver and Higgins looked at Murdoch, hoping for an explanation. William knew – knew that Julia was empathizing with the emotional pain of the two victims. How could he explain to these two men the significance of Miss Dawes' and Mr. Rodriguez's relationship to their relationship? How could they possibly understand that, like Dawes and Rodriguez, he and his wife believed that they were meant to be together, no matter what the odds – that they, too, were soul-mates? Knowing they would not be able to fathom why she was so upset, he decided instead to be with Julia, to try his best to comfort her.

He took a deep breath and walked up behind her. He said softly, "Julia." Now with his presence so near, her strength drained away. She leaned back; fell backwards, into him, her crying intensifying. She sucked in a quivering breath before she tried to speak. His arms warmly, firmly, encircled her. "Oh William," she started, "they died together … I'm sure of it."

He turned her around to face him, providing the shoulder she needed to cry on. Gulliver and Higgins looked on, stunned by the scene, unable to bring themselves to look away.

"One of them was alive, watching, as the other one was killed," Julia continued, her voice high-pitched and her breathing troubled and rapid. She pulled back to hold eye contact with him for a moment. He was there, right there with her. Her face wrinkled and she collapsed into her despair again. "I only hope it was Rodriguez who was shot first," she said before she once again pulled some oxygen into her agonized lungs, and then …

With her falling back into his arms, shaking with her sobs, he finished her thought for her, "He wouldn't have had to witness the love of his life succumb to the brutalizing attacks." Somehow, she cried even harder, knowing she was not alone with the grief, knowing he was there to hold her. William breathed deeply and began to tenderly rock her body with his. He whispered in her ear, "Breathe." He took another breath, noticing she was still holding hers. "Take a breath Julia, hmm?" he said, calling her to respond. She did, the air catching severely in gaspy waves, only to be followed by the moaning sounds of her pain as she exhaled being gently muffled by his body. Once again, the strained inhalation, followed by the tortured sounds, each cycle lessening in severity. A few moments later, she was able to stop.

They separated enough to see each other. He handed her his handkerchief. "Thank you," she replied.

With a bow he responded, "You're very welcome." He would not try to explain what had happened to Gulliver and Higgins. They would not ask.

The carriage from the morgue showed up before they were done collecting all of the evidence from the scene, fingermarks, shoeprints, photos of blood-splatter patterns and more. Julia went back to the morgue to do the post-mortem. Murdoch, Gulliver and Higgins rode back to the station together. There was much evidence to discuss and their resulting conversation was lively.

Back at the station, the motel clerk from the Maramount Motel, where Jane had been staying before Connor likely beat her and took her captive, was waiting in the interrogation room for questioning. Once again, Murdoch noticed the excitement young Gulliver displayed at being able to watch him work. He was pleased with the man's enthusiasm for learning. He had been planning to have Gulliver go back to working with George to try to find a match to the bullet found in their wall, but the new detective's passion swayed his decision. He explained to Gulliver the importance of each piece of evidence he was placing into the folder that he would bring with him into the interrogation room. He had a solid plan in place, thus the evidence was arranged in a particular order within the folder.

Gulliver stood just outside the room, listening in intently as Murdoch ran through his plan. First, Murdoch showed the clerk Jane's picture and asked him whether he recognized her, which he did, and how long she had lived there, and to describe her visitors. He said that Jane was a doxie and many men visited. Yes there were regulars. He denied recognizing the photo and description of Connor. Murdoch had already told Gulliver that he believed the man had lied about this when he was first questioned.

Now Murdoch set his trap. Murdoch now knew that Lynch walked with a limp and further that Lynch was dead by Monday night on August 4th. Suspecting it was Connor who had knocked him out, then beaten and taken Jane captive, and then having had taken a badly injured Jane downstairs past the clerk before Clegg showed up to find Murdoch out on the floor, Murdoch showed the clerk a picture of Lynch and asked him if he recognized the man as a regular visitor of Jane's. The hardest part was not looking excited when the clerk took the bait, claiming that Lynch was the man who had "hurried Jane along" after Murdoch had gone up to meet with her. The clerk claimed that the photo of Clegg matched the man who went up to Jane's room after Mr. Lynch had supposedly taken Jane away. The clerk also said that it was Lynch who came back on Tuesday morning to remove Jane's belongings and informed him that Jane had moved out. Murdoch was certain now that he was lying, as Lynch was definitely dead by this time. Murdoch then asked the clerk if either of the men he recognized (Clegg or Lynch) walked with a limp. He responded 'no,' explaining that of course he had seen both men walk and neither of them limped.

The man folded immediately when Murdoch informed him he had been caught in a lie. He gave up that he did "know Connor" both by name and by reputation. He said he did not know the man's last name. He stressed that Connor was an extremely violent and dangerous man– all feared him – he was not mentally stable. He believed Connor worked and lived down at docks. He figured he most likely took Jane there. He admitted that he could tell Jane had been badly beaten when Connor dragged her out while Murdoch was still upstairs in her room. He even went so far as to say that he thought it was most likely that Murdoch had been killed and when Clegg showed up and went up to Jane's room Murdoch's dead body would be discovered.

Murdoch asked, "You claim that this 'Connor' is feared by all. Who else knows him?"

Fright covered the man's face. Murdoch thought it might be hard to get this out of him considering how scared the man looked. He would not relent; his children's lives were on the line. "Tell me who else knew this man!" he said, his teeth gritted, his determination apparent.

"He frequented the company of many of the girls before he took up with Jane. He was rough and possessive with them. They were all very relieved when he turned all of his attention to Jane," the clerk quickly blurted out. Then he warned, "I read the paper this morning, detective. I understand your children are missing – may have been abducted. Well, I've got to tell you, Murdoch … If Connor has them, they're as good as dead. The only reason they'd still be alive is cause he'd enjoy torturing 'em before he kills 'em, that's all."

A chill ran up his spine, but he kept his composure, masked his feelings. Murdoch told him he was free to go and the man practically ran out of the stationhouse.

Gulliver was very, very impressed with the interview. To be honest, Murdoch was too. It had gone very well, and now they had a new lead. Murdoch sent two constables with photos of Connor and Jane to the Maramount Motel to question the residents there about Connor. He put Gulliver back on bullet-matching duty with George. Then he went into his office to update the blackboard. Wanting to mull over all of the evidence, he sought to be alone. He instructed George only to bother him if it was important. His desk had become an eye-sore of disorganized piles of papers. He worked to clean off the desk, knowing the mess was leading him to distraction. Under the bottom of one of the piles he found the papers Julia had brought back with her from prison. There were all of the notes from the children and from him, one of the medical journals she must have decided to keep, and one of the newspapers he had brought for her. He noticed some writing on the front page of the newspaper. Deciding to ask her later if she still wanted these things, he put them aside and then returned his focus back to solving the case.

Next, William cleared off the worktable and then lay out all of the evidence, photos, reports, the bullet from his home, even the typewriter key and hatpin left in the hospital bathroom by Jane. Sitting on a stool at the worktable, his back to the door, he turned around when he heard his office door open. She noticed his look of disappointment and a healthy dose of worry fade away upon their eyes meeting. "Julia!" he happily cried out.

"You look to be working very hard," she answered, as she walked up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. "I thought I'd bring you some of my initial findings on the Rodriguez post-mortem," she said in his ear, somehow making the statement sound seductive. Her hands rubbed up across his stomach. He had taken his jacket off in the August heat and she enjoyed an opportunity to touch him without having to bother with getting under it. She was drawn to the taught, firm muscles she felt as she rubbed his stomach. He felt her breath ride over his ear as she said, "You must be starving."

"I haven't wanted to take the time to eat," he explained, now starting to return his focus on the clues before him.

She challenged his efforts, gliding her hands up higher to explore his chest through the vest. "I suggest that I go get us some sandwiches, hmm? Perhaps even buy some lunch for all the constables working so hard to help?" she said.

He agreed but added, "Before you go, what have you so far?"

She sat on the neighboring stool, enabling them to talk face-to-face. "I do think you will find this quite interesting William," she said. "Mr. Rodriguez most likely died from a gunshot to the head, but I have no bullet for you… it was removed…

"Just like with Mr. Lynch," William interrupted.

"Yes," Julia replied. "The dimensions of the two wounds were also similar – it looks like the same killer. And the size of the bullet is not common. I believe it to be quite small, perhaps a .12 caliber," she said.

"So, Isabel Webster is once again our prime suspect," William concluded.

"Yes, most likely," Julia agreed. "I'll have more for you later, but I'd thought you'd want to know as soon as possible," she explained.

"Yes. Thank you Julia… I wonder why she is so motivated to keep the bullet from us? Does she just want to protect herself from having such strong evidence against her as a bullet match, or does she have reason to believe we would be able to trace the particular gun if we had the bullet," he asked. "Perhaps she knows we have the bullet specifications from this gun in our records?!" he suggested.

Excited about the idea, he asked George to find someone to compile a list of all past crimes they have records for that were committed with a .12 caliber gun. Julia took lunch orders from everyone in the stationhouse, including the Inspector, explaining that it was their treat to minimally thank everybody for their dedication and help.

When Julia returned to his office with their lunch, William reminded George only to interrupt him if it was important. William and Julia pulled down the shades in his office to allow for some privacy. Gulliver and George shared a scandalous look with each other in response to the action. George explained that it was not very likely that he was planning on doing what Gulliver was thinking because the detective is too straight-laced for such things, especially in his workplace. Still, the two men couldn't help but laugh together at the thought.

Detective Gulliver said, "They do seem to be quite in love though. How long have they been married?"

George stood to reach over for another file and replied, "Well, their son is eight now, and they were married about two years before he was born … so I guess they've been married about ten years or so. The wedding was in May – I was the best man you know! … Oh yes, so that was probably their 11th anniversary, I think."

Working to appear only casually interested rather than obsessed, Gulliver asked, "How long did they court before they were married?"

George had a lot to say about this. He put the report down and started to tell the long, tumultuous tale of his mentor's relationship with the good doctor. "It is our lunch-break after all," he thought.

Gulliver hung on his every word. He was most interested when the topic of Darcy Garland came up, for in his memories and his fantasies, he had suspected that the engagement ring on Julia's finger did not belong to a police detective. No, a woman such as she would not have such a man as a fiancé. His jaw dropped upon learning that she had actually married the other man. He couldn't fathom how she and Murdoch ever got together after that had happened. George greatly enjoyed telling the story to someone who was so incredibly intrigued by it.

On the other side of the closed blinds, in Detective Murdoch's office, the couple sat on opposite sides of his desk, their lunch spread out before them, each leaning forward to get as close to the other as possible as they talked. Their conversation was lively. William asked if she had learned anything more about the children from her phone calls. Julia told him that the maître d at the Club said a man had come by asking if he could speak with any young children present at the Club, claiming he had found a teddy bear and was looking for the owner.

William raised an eyebrow, "That's not good," he thought. "When I was up in the girl's room I noticed that Chelsea's "Berry Bear" was missing. I had hoped she took it with her," he said. His face betrayed his feelings as worry and fear mixed with waves of sadness. The thought of the little child out there somewhere, without them, without the stuffed bear's ear to suck on when she was distressed – it hurt.

Julia shook her head and said, "I feel so invaded … this creepy, unsafe, perilous state of existence seems to permeate my whole being." She took a deep breath, she would remain in control. "William," she started, sounding as if she was changing the subject, "I'm sorry I fell apart at the crime scene, I, uh…"

He put his sandwich down and reached across the desk to take her hand. "Julia, don't … Don't berate yourself. We are going through extraordinary circumstances right now." He sighed and continued, "I'm just glad we are together to help each other through it."

She nodded. His encouragement tipped her decision to go back to the memory. She said, her eyes blue and magnetic holding him with their gaze, "I know I never said it at the time William, but I was strongly impacted by their story – the story of how Dawes and Rodriguez felt they were drawn together, in their case because of a shared past life together as lovers." She looked away, feeling suddenly shy about what she wanted to say. "I … I believed in some ways it was like us," she said, then lifting her head to catch his eye. He nodded, agreeing, and in doing so, sending her heart into warm joy. Julia smiled and his world lit up too. Julia looked back to her meal. Her mind traveled away from the happy connections to re-find the grief she had felt earlier in Clavell's home, in the Rodriguez's home. Keeping her eyes down she said, "I have always hoped we would die together William, so that neither of us would have to suffer the loss of the other… But now … Well now I see …" she took his eyes once again, urging him to understand with her, "that, for the sake of the children, that it would be better for one of us to survive." Her head dropped down again, but not before he saw her face wrinkle as she started to cry. After a shaky breath, she went on, "And so … now I hope …" her crying grew stronger, "that at least one of us survives." Another strained breath shook before she finished, "And I so much hope that whichever one of us it is, that they can be happy."

Offering her his second handkerchief of the day (she often wondered how he always came up with a clean one), "Yes, of course you're right," he gently said as he pushed one of her dangling curls out of her face.

A few moments later, she had recovered, and she thought out loud, "The orphanages kept turning us down, remember?" William nodded. "They said we had inappropriate jobs… I think they were right. Maybe we shouldn't have had children. Ours are so much more likely to have one or both of us die. And now, our jobs have even directly threatened their lives," she explained.

"Julia," he said trying to disagree.

"Really William? You don't think so? Just a few hours ago we evacuated the stationhouse while you defused a bomb," she argued.

He wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, he couldn't deny it. He took a deep breath and called her with his chocolate brown eyes, "Well Julia, what's done is done. And I don't regret for one minute having our children. You are right that they face more hazards than many others, but they are much loved, and even though this latest turn is awful, and believe me I know it is, they are happy. They are developing into good people," he said, taking her hand and demanding with his eyes.

"Yes," she answered.

As the conversation slowed, William's eyes fell to her papers on the corner of his desk. She followed his glance and remembered leaving them here after they returned from their "magnificent lunch" the day she got out of prison…

Suddenly, out of the blue, a loud, "Flutter – Flap – Thump," pounded against the window behind William. He startled, jumping out of his chair and knocking over the rest of his sandwich. Both of their eyes peered at the bottom of the window. Julia said, reassuringly, "It's just …"

William took a deep breath, feeling unavoidably ashamed by his over-reaction and said, "I see it. It's just a bird."

Julia stood as well, giving her a better view of the activity on the other side of the window and said, "Don't be embarrassed William. You have every right to be a bit jumpy with all we've been through."

They both sat back down. William wrapped the now-finished sandwich in the paper to throw it out. Julia felt compelled to study the bird, birds actually, more closely. He noticed her still watching them and said, "They have been doing that for a while now, always about this time of day."

"They were here this morning too," Julia added. "They seem to go away and then come back," she stated. She stood up, began to step around the desk towards the window and said, her voice full of the awe one feels when they are discovering something important, "And they're not just birds William … They're pi..."

"Pigeons!" William exclaimed.

"Harry! … William! The children went to Harry!" Julia nearly screamed she was so excited. They stood together at the window looking at the five or six pigeons on the other side drifting around looking for food and chasing each other about. "Look William! That one has a message!" Julia declared, pointing to the leg of one of the pigeons that had a pink paper wrapped around its lower leg, just above its foot.

"We need to catch it!" William said. He started to lift the window up to open it.

Julia touched his arm, "Wait William," she said, "I worked with the pigeons a little when we visited Harry. They are very skittish." Their eyes met as he listened for her instructions. She took a deep breath, he followed suit. They needed to calm down. "Slowly William," she said. He lifted the window very carefully. Fortunately the birds seemed little bothered. Julia quietly and calmly climbed out to stand on the ground with the pigeons outside. She explained, more for herself than him, "I need to approach from the front, keeping my body low, and very slowly bring my hands together…" Seemingly very easily, she had the pigeon with the pink note in her hands. He held her elbow as she crawled back inside. "I'll hold it, you take off the note," she said.

He firmly took hold of the bird's foot, below the note, and began to unravel it. He said, "Don't let it defecate in my office please."

Julia scowled at him playfully, "And how do you propose I do that?" she asked, enjoying a giggle when their eyes met and his expression offered an apology. Quickly the note was free and William unwrinkled the small, pink paper.

Julia's eyes grew wide as she declared, "It's William Jr.'s handwriting!"

"3 Safe. Advise," William read. The relief pumping through them was so strong it bordered on dizziness. Still holding the pigeon, Julia sat on the window ledge.

"William, Harry didn't have a phone, so we can't call…"

"Of course," William thought.

Her voice rose in pitch with her excitement, "Let's go get them!" she urged, "I know where it is." She could tell he had another plan in mind.

He shook his head and reasoned, "I don't think that's best … We could tell them to stay there, but someone might eventually find Harry, he is my father and he has the same last name. What did he name his business anyway?"

Julia wrinkled her mouth showing her disappointment and answered, "Murdoch Aerial Communications."

William tried to hide it but he felt a twinge of fear as he thought, "Oh great! They probably already found it. This note could have been on the bird since last night." He sighed and continued, "We had a plan in place for emergencies, and this is still an emergency, no?" He looked to see that she agreed. "We should get them to Judith's right away," he concluded out loud.

They used a small, yellow paper for their note, figuring it would be most obvious to Harry and the children that the pigeon carried a response. They wrote Judith's phone # and first name, and then instructed them to go there as soon as possible, but urging for keeping the children out of sight or disguising them. Their note requested a reply once they got to Judith's so they would know they were safe. "Harry will probably not have money for the cab; it is pretty far … I spent most of mine on the flowers and chocolates …"

Julia looked at her purse on the worktable and said, "I have some." William took all of the money she had, sixty dollars, and wrapped it up in the yellow note. He put the note on the pigeon's same leg that had held the pink note and he held Julia as she leaned out the window to gently place the pigeon back down to the ground. They decided to feed the birds the leftovers from William's sandwich.

They held each other in an embrace, feeling the hope flow once again between them. Julia used William's phone and called Judith, being able to get her as her workday had finished a little early. The plan was set. They agreed to keep the news about the children a secret. Julia went back to the morgue to finish the post-mortem on Rodriguez.

Harry closed the door behind him and called out, "It's alright… It's me, your dear old Granddad, and I've got food!" The children had been hiding from the moment they heard the big front doors to the building open. They came out and rushed to their grandfather. William Jr. took the bag of groceries from his arms and asked, "Do you think anybody followed you, Granddad?"

"No boy. I kept an eye out. Nobody was payin' much attention to an old man like me. Nobody around once I tuned down this block. We're safe," Harry said as he reached down to lift Chelsea up into his arms. "Let's make some meatloaf … You're gonna love it; it's my specialty!"

They sat around Harry's desk which had been converted into their table. Katie placed a glass of water down for each of them and joined them to eat. William Jr. asked, "Grandpa, Dad said you drank too much, but I haven't seen you drink anything at all. Did you stop?"

Harry took a deep breath and then took a sip of his water, stalling to think about how to reply. He scratched his prickly chin and explained, "Now your father is tellin' you the truth there … But he wouldn't know how much I want to be a good grandfather to you children. And I'm gonna make sure that whenever I'm with you young'uns I don't drink even a drop of liquor." He paused before adding, "Besides, can't spend money on liquor if you need food on the table, heh?" William Jr. nodded. Once they'd finished, Harry reminded them that they agreed to help with the pigeons. The children were excited to do so, looking forward to a break in the boredom of hiding out in the tiny apartment.

They all went up on the roof. William Jr. began to clean the bottoms of the cages while Katie and Chelsea worked together to empty, clean and refill the water dishes. Katie noticed it first, the new, yellow note. "Look!" she exclaimed, "A new note!"

Everyone ran over to see. "Do you think it's from Mom and Dad?" William Jr. asked eagerly.

Their grandpa remained calm, not wanting to see the children get disappointed. He said, "Well, we won't know till we get the note." He reached in and caught the pigeon. Being an expert at working with the birds, he removed the note and then returned the bird. He closed the cage and the opened-up the note; the money fell to the floor and, with eyes bugging out of his head, he quickly bent down to pick it up.

"Money!" Katie cried out. "It is from Mommy and Daddy!" she concluded, bouncing up and down with anticipation.

"Now, now. We don't know that yet," Harry said. He held the note a-ways from his eyes and read it to the children, first hearing the good news himself as he read it. He devised a plan. They would travel to "Judith's" house in his buckboard wagon. They'd put rows of pigeon-cages along the edges, so that's all people could see, and the children would be hiding away in the middle of all those cages. That way, they could give all the money to Judith to help care for the children until their parents could come get them. Harry planned on stopping to call Judith once he was out of town, making it less likely someone would overhear the conversation. They left immediately after the birds were cared for.

Julia and Miss James were working diligently, nearing the finish of the post-mortem. Julia had shared with her the unique relationship their two victims had had, and thus, when they discovered that Dawes and Rodriguez had eaten the same last meal, Miss James could share in Julia's mixture of happiness and grief.

The phone rang and Julia went to get it. It was a doctor friend of hers that worked at York General Hospital. He had a patient who he had thought had been asking for "more doc," but the nurse insisted that the man was asking for Julia's husband, "Murdoch." The man explained that he believed this particular nurse was somewhat obsessed with Julia and particularly her husband, following every story in the newspaper about them and telling anyone who would listen about their latest troubles of adventures. Julia asked for a physical description of the man. She was told he had been beaten very badly but he was short, older-middle-aged with light-brown greying hair. He had come in with no identification and he still was not speaking. He had been there for three days. Julia recognized the description as fitting that of Mr. Clegg. She told the doctor she would alert her husband immediately and that he should expect him soon. Excitedly she called out to Miss James before she walked out the side door of the morgue, "I'll be right back. I have some good news for my husband."

The door banged shut right before she gasped. Her assailant had been waiting behind the door, unseen. Julia had been grabbed from behind, her mouth held silent, a knife to her throat. She could see, parked along the side of the morgue, that a single-horse buckboard labeled "Ice Delivery" had been backed in, out of view from the street. She was walked to the back of the buckboard and shoved towards the edge. Up on the buckboard she saw a very large steamer trunk, and she knew the assailant's intentions were to get her in that trunk. She pretended to step-up as if to crawl aboard, but once she began to lift herself upwards, the knife moved from her neck and she took her chance, diving backwards with all her might, hoping to throw the person behind her off-balance. It worked, briefly. Their eyes met. Julia called out, "You!" just before the blow came. Not knocked unconscious, but certainly disabled, Julia wobbled and then fell to the floor. She was manhandled. She thought to dislodge one of her shoes before she climbed aboard the buckboard. She was gagged and her hands were bound in front of her. She cooperated and lay down in the trunk. Even so, the assailant covered her nose and mouth with a cloth and she recognized the smell of chloroform before everything went dark.

Detective Murdoch sat at his desk looking through some of the files for a match to the .38 caliber bullet found in their home, wanting to do something to distract himself from his disappointment that the only thing that turned up from questioning the women at the Maramount Motel was that Connor was violent and likely insane and that he was from down on the docks. The phone rang, the timing seemed right and he was hoping it was the children and they had made it to Judith's house. It was! They were there. They were safe. Harry had driven them all the way up there and was now on his way back into the city. William spoke to each child, each one of them breaking down into tears at the sound of their father's voice. He told them how very proud of them he was and that he loved them and missed them, but he knew it would still be a little more time that they needed to hide out before they would be able to see each other. He told them to be good. He said he was going to go see if Mommy could call them back and talk to them too. William hung up the phone, threw on his hat, and headed directly over to the morgue.

William entered the morgue through the front door. "Julia!" he called out, before he rounded the corner and spotted Miss James working in the theater.

"She went to see you!?" Miss James exclaimed, "She's not here."

Dread took him quickly. Something was definitely wrong. Miss James saw it on his face; she instantly joined him with worry. Panic in his eyes he asked, "When did she …"

"Probably about an hour ago," she answered. Her eyes drifted to the side door Julia had left through; William's eyes bolted there after hers.

He ran for the door, Miss James on his heels. The hum in his ears grew loud and a darkening tunnel formed around the edges of his vision. He was nauseous and dizzy, and his eyes were glued on the object that sunk his heart into certainty that she was gone – her shoe. By the time he held Julia's shoe in his hand, tears flowed down his cheeks. He couldn't think. William looked at Miss James with desperation in his eyes.

"I'll call the station… Get the Inspector," she offered. She quickly went back inside.

By the time the Inspector, Detective Gulliver, and Constable Crabtree arrived, William had regained some self-control. He had sent Miss James to get a measuring tape to determine the size of the wheel-span of the carriage or cart that had been pulled in along-side of the morgue. He had already determined that there was only one horse hitched to it.

Detective Gulliver thought to go ask if anyone had seen anything. Crabtree joined him to contact as many people as possible. They returned to say that a constable had seen a buckboard parked there. It was labeled as an ice-delivery vehicle, so the constable simply figured the morgue was getting an ice delivery. When he saw it there was no one around it. It was grey with red wheels and trim. He did not remember if there was a name of the ice company.

The Inspector recommended that they contact the press and get them to report her as missing and likely abducted. William had a photo they could use, but most papers already had a photo of Julia on file. They asked the reporters help them to find the children as well. He also thought to send constables immediately to all of the ice companies in Toronto with the description of the buckboard. Unfortunately, it was getting late, and many of them would be closed.

Back in the station, the Inspector offered William a drink. He declined; he wanted to have his wits about him as much as possible. It started to rain.

Meanwhile, Julia lay unconscious in the trunk as the buckboard rattled along on a road on the outskirts of town. The sun was low in the sky. In her mind's eye she dreamed. It was probably the smell of the chloroform that set the tone. She was sitting on their dining-room table, in their brand-new house, leaning back against William who sat behind her. She was in labor with their first child. She was hysterical with fear because she needed a Cesarean section to survive and they were trapped here in a snowstorm. They couldn't get to a hospital and no doctor could get to her. William was calm, reassuring. They would find a way. She would not die. (Subsequently, she had taught William how to perform the surgery and he had used her medical supplies, including the chloroform, to render her unconscious, and delivered William Jr. himself).

The buckboard hit a particularly big bump and Julia was shaken into a woozy consciousness. First noticing her bound hands and her gagged mouth, then the small space she was confined in, her memory seeped back and she knew where she was and what had happened. Quickly her mind raced to catch up to the present. She was still moving, on a road. She heard rain pounding on the trunk. She had to get away. She threw herself upwards against the sides of the trunk, eventually bringing it to an upright position, so her feet, which she noticed at this point were bare, were on the floor. With all her might she surged her shoulder towards the back of the trunk, flinging it into a flip that took it overboard. It bounced and flipped, eventually coming to a halt after rolling off of the road and down an incline. In the fall, Julia had hit her head, blackness once again filling her. The buckboard continued on, the driver unaware of her escape. Of course, if she couldn't get out of the trunk, it might not be much of an escape – she would die, unseen on the side of this country road, thirsty and hungry and heartbroken, locked away and possibly never found, alone in this trunk.

They were in the heart of the storm now, danger all around. And yet it was quiet, deafeningly still. It seemed there was nothing to do until the eye-of-the-storm passed, and the wind picked back up, and the rain pounded, and the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared. Neither of them knew a greater stress than facing the impending death of the other, and facing it alone, without the other. Time seemed to have paused, and yet its preciousness was emphasized as it threatened to run out. The hardest thing of all was to not give up hope.