"What is it that you don't want to tell me?" Lucas asked, standing at the entrance to Bill's office with Elizabeth by his side.

Avery looked at the other two men and then sighed. "You might as well come in and sit down."

Once everyone was seated, a grave-looking Bill folded his hands in front of him and leaned forward.

"How are you feeling today? You know, emotionally? Mentally?" he asked.

"I didn't sleep much last night, but Elizabeth and I spent the afternoon at Benson Hills and had a very pleasant time. It's been a good day."

"That's good, that's good."

"Bill, I take it by the cautionary tone in your voice that you have information you're afraid is going to upset Lucas?" Elizabeth asked. Bill lowered his eyes to his desk and then raised them again.

"Lucas, after you remembered the name 'Hank,' I checked with a friend in New Orleans to see what he might have on any associations that Solomon Drake may have had with someone named Hank. Turns out, Henry Drake was Solomon's brother."

"I see," Lucas nodded.

"As you know, Solomon Drake worked for your father at the Mint and was fired. Apparently, his brother Hank worked there too," Bill said. "It wasn't long after the firing that, according to Solomon's wife…."

"You spoke with his wife?" Lucas asked, leaning forward.

"Yeah. I did on my trip to Baker Springs today," Nathan said. "She lives on a small farm in Pleasant Orchard, probably eighteen miles from here. She, um, didn't hesitate to speak with me about her husband or Hank. Apparently, there was no love lost between them, and she'd kicked Solomon out several months ago. She explained that she, Solomon, and their son had moved North after opportunity dried up in New Orleans, but that Hank stayed behind."

"Opportunity for what?" Lucas said. "Murdering little girls?"

"Maybe not," Lee said.

Lucas narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Hank Drake was apparently part of a kidnapping ring," Bill said. "It had been in operation for at least twenty-five years, maybe longer. There had been a string of kidnappings of little girls. A few were recovered. Most were not."

"So, they killed them too?" Lucas asked.

"Oh, my goodness!" Elizabeth exclaimed. Lucas took her hand.

"No. Not killed," Bill said. "Sold."

Elizabeth gasped.

"According to those papers," Bill continued, "Drake was charged with his involvement in the selling of women and girls as slaves."

"Slaves!" Lucas exclaimed.

"Yes, slavery is still a huge problem throughout the world," Nathan replied. "Probably always will be."

Bouchard furrowed his brow as he considered this news, then his eyes widened. He looked to Avery. "Are you…. are you thinking there's a possibility that my sister could still be alive? That she wasn't murdered, but was sold as a slave?"

Bill took a deep breath. "Given the circumstances and the fact her body was never recovered, I think it's a possibility we need to consider."

Lucas was speechless. He looked toward Elizabeth, eyes full of wonder. Elizabeth whelmed up, and she took his hand.

"Bill!" she said.

"I know that's a lot to take in right now," Avery responded.

"Alive!' Lucas laughed. "I…I honestly don't know what to say. Jenny, alive? That's incredible!"

"Look, I don't want to get your hopes up. I mean, frankly, this is why we didn't want to tell you," Bill replied.

"I understand it's not definite - but it's possible, right?" Bouchard said, hopefully.

Bill nodded.

"This is amazing!" Bouchard replied.

"Lucas, even if she did survive the kidnapping, what she was heading into…." Nathan interjected.

"Forced labor?" Lucas asked. "I know that many of the factories in New Orleans used the labor of poor women and children at times, so using Jenny in that capacity…"

"That's not what he was charged with," Bill said.

"I don't understand."

Nathan ran his hand through his hair and looked sympathetically toward his friend. "Lucas, Drake was under arrest for violating the Mann Act. I am afraid that forced labor wasn't the kind of slavery that that law was designed to prevent."

"Then what? What kind of…." Suddenly, it dawned on him what they were referring to, and he shuddered. He tilted his head. "No. No, they didn't…."

"Listen, Lucas, I'm sorry…." Avery said solemnly.

Lucas jumped up from his chair. "No, they couldn't have. They…they….! Nathan! She…she was only six years old!" His eyes filled with tears as Nathan stood and reached for his shoulder.

Bouchard pulled away, backing toward the door. "It's not true! They couldn't have done that - not to my sister! Not to Jenny!"

"Lucas!" Elizabeth rushed to his side, wishing to comfort him, but he took her gently by the arms, pain in his eyes.

"Listen, this is exactly why we didn't want to say anything. We don't know anything definite, and it's possible we may never know," Nathan said. "So, my advice would be to not jump to conclusions. Jenny may have passed away the way you thought…."

Lucas gagged, then raised his hand over his mouth, his eyes darting wildly through the room. "I…I have to go," he said, shaking his head. "I… I have to get out of here." He turned toward the door.

"Lucas!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Lee, see to it that Elizabeth gets home."

Bouchard rushed out the door, and Elizabeth tried to follow but was only able to watch as Lucas's car took off down the street. Soon, Lee, Nathan, and Bill stood by her side.

"Think we should try to catch him?" Lee said. "I could go get my car."

Bill shook his head. "It'd be no use. He'd be too far gone."

"Well, he's upset, as anyone would be, but at least he's in his right mind," Nathan said.

"Oh, Nathan!" Elizabeth said. "Do you really think that could have happened to Jenny? Really?"

"I don't know. It can be a sick world out there. Either scenario doesn't look good."

"No, it doesn't," Bill said.

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "I need to call Joseph."

"Good idea," Lee replied as she sprang into motion.

"But keep it discreet," Nathan said. "Lucas's parents don't even know, and I'm not sure right now we want them to."

"Nathan's right," Bill replied. "Until we know more, this stays between us. If Lucas chooses to tell them, that's up to him. But we've got to have more to go on than this."

"What are you going to do?" Lee asked.

"I'm going to call my friend in the morning and ask if he can send up all the records from that court case. Since the case is still open, there should still be something in the form of evidence we can look at."

"About Jenny?" Elizabeth asked.

He shrugged. "I doubt it. But, maybe information as to where some of these girls ended up. If we can have that, maybe we start there."

The sound of Nathan's horse clopping down her street the next morning drew Elizabeth to her window. She had been getting ready to walk to Nathan's rowhouse to spend some time with Lucas before school that day and was surprised that Grant was already on patrol. She rushed down her stairs and caught up to the Mountie, who was in plain clothes and already speaking with Lee.

"Nathan how is he?" she asked.

Nathan frowned. "Didn't come home last night. I just ran up to the bridge to see if maybe he'd gone up there. No sign of him."

"Where could he have gone?" she asked.

"I don't know. It's possible he ran out of gas, in which case, he could be stranded. I'm going to go get Bill then Lee, Bill, and I are going to search the main roads to make sure he's not broken down somewhere."

The Drake family had a little money reserved due to 'Pap's' exploits, something that Lydia didn't approve of but had learned not to fight. Typically, their savings would go for more expensive things such as rent, equipment, or costly repairs such as the ones made to her wagon just the week before. Beyond that, they made a meager living selling milk and eggs and a few home-canned products from a small garden on the Wellesley farmland. "Hope" (which was Jenny's' self-chosen name when they gave her a new identity upon moving North) would sew and was teaching her daughter to do the same. Meanwhile, ten-year-old Luke would help his grandmother with the heavier tasks. He was growing tall and handsome, with a shock of wavy brown hair, a muscular build, and eyes the same color as his mother's.

Tuesday mornings were the times to go to town to drop off their products. So, while Hope and Jo stayed home, preparing the land for Spring planting, Lydia and Luke went to town.

Lydia noticed the fancy black Dodge the moment she pulled up to the general store and parked her wagon. It wasn't often that she saw cars like that in those parts. She leaned forward to see what it looked like on the interior, only to find a handsome young stranger sleeping inside. Something about him seemed familiar, though she didn't think they'd ever met. Must have just been passing through. She shrugged and then walked into the store, which had just opened.

"Good morning, Mrs. Drake," the storeowner said upon seeing her.

"Good morning, Jasper."

"Have Luke set the eggs in the back. I'll send Chester out for the milk."

Lydia nodded, then walked through the store, looking at sundry items that she was interested in but didn't have money for now that Solomon was gone. She watched her grandson gently carry in the eggs, regarding what good manners he had and how well his mother had raised him – a testimony to her own upbringing, Lydia knew. Even though Hope hadn't seen her family in almost three decades, she was raising her children with some culture. She'd read to them every night, alternating from books she'd saved up for and purchased during their travels. Solomon used to fuss about Hope's love of books, but he never forbade her from getting them. Both children could read and write from an early age, something even he knew would be crucial to their future success and a better life. Now that he was gone, Lydia wanted to give them that better life, but at present, she wasn't sure just how to do so. As Luke carried in a crate full of canned vegetables, she smiled and picked up a bar of Mackintosh Toffee. She might not have all the answers now, but a little indulgence wouldn't hurt the boy, not with how helpful he was.

Luke walked toward the door to pick up another crate of vegetables and ran directly into the stranger who had come in from outside.

"My apologies, sir," the boy said, looking at Lucas with his jade-green eyes. Lucas froze for a moment when he saw him but then shook it off. It seemed reminders of Jenny were everywhere.

Lucas walked to the counter where Jasper had just restocked his supply of homemade apple dumplings, a local treat courtesy of "Mrs. Jasper," his mother.

"Good morning, young man," the shopkeeper said. "Would you like to try to sample some of our dumplings? They're still warm."

"Sure," Lucas said, figuring he'd get more information from the man if he purchased something from his store. Bouchard reached into his vest pocket for his wallet as Jasper made him a dish. Lucas handed him a bill.

"What else can I help you with," the friendly man asked.

Lucas took a bite of dumpling, something his hungry stomach was most grateful for, then nodded. "I was wondering if you might know where I might find a woman. Her last name is Drake. She'd be in her late sixties, early seventies. She comes from New Orleans."

Lydia's heart began to race. The news of Solomon's death must have reached home. She immediately put the candy bar back, then made her way to the counter, indicating with her eyes and a quick shake of the head that she wanted Jasper to remain quiet.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we must be hurrying," she said, opening her wallet, then lowering her head. "May I have my money now?"

Jasper smiled at Lucas, who encouraged him to help Lydia. He reached under the counter and retrieved an envelope. "$35.00. Would you like to count it?" he asked.

"No, thank you," she said, rushing toward the door. Luke was just about to walk back in, but she pushed him away as Lucas waited for an answer.

Deputy Superintendent Claude Fontaine of the New Orleans Police Department was busy fielding all sorts of questions after the City Council banned the sale of alcohol in the city the day before. Fontaine was a bit of a teetotaler but, with aspirations of becoming the Chief Superintendent, had delicately straddled the fence on the subject until he could see which way the political winds were blowing. Certainly, there were opponents of the move, including one of the city's newspapers, the Times-Picayune, but the prevailing opinion amongst those who could make a difference in his future career was that alcohol must go. He had just hung up from a call with the press when Captain Thomas Martyn knocked on his door.

Fontaine looked up. "Yeah, what is it?"

"I beg your pardon, sir, but a request just came across my desk that I thought you'd want to see. It's about the Drake case."

"Drake!" Fontaine said with surprise. "Why is someone inquiring into that? That case is nearly a decade old."

"I don't know, sir," Martyn said. "What's even more interesting is that the request is coming from Canada."

"Canada? As in the Mounties?"

"Yes, sir. Apparently, Drake's brother was killed somewhere in the Northwest Territories, and the Mounties are digging into his life. He was evidently wanted for some crimes up there, and they believe that there may be something to help them in the case records for Henry Drake's trial. What would you like me to do?"

Fontaine's eyes shifted back and forth as he considered the request. The Mounties, of course, had no jurisdiction in New Orleans at all, so he could simply refuse. But that might cause problems. Hank Drake's murder happened under his watch and had drawn a lot of scrutiny – which was the last thing that Fontaine was interested in.

"See if you can stall them," Fontaine said.

"Stall?"

"Yes. Tell them that it will take a while to gather the records and, um….that we're very busy right now. Whatever you need to tell them. As far as I'm concerned, that case is closed. Get rid of them," he said.

The Captain nodded. "Yes, sir, I'll see what I can do."

"Well, I pretty much know everyone around here, I assure you. But I can't help you with that one, Mr. Bouchard... I'm sorry."

Lucas thought for a minute. "Um, what about Black? Have you heard of a man named Saul Black? Wife's name is Lydia?"

Jasper's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Bouchard, I've got nothing to say. If you'll excuse me, I have other customers."

Lucas exited the General store and walked back to his car, disheartened that he'd gotten nowhere with the store owner, especially given the sense of urgency to get to the truth that he felt inside. When he left Bill's office the previous night, he felt shattered. To have the wonderful hope that his sister might be alive introduced into his world, only to have that hope sullied by the thought that she could have been sold as a prostitute, was almost more than he could bear. He'd driven all night, first going to the ridge and staring into the blackness of the valley where he thought for hours, finally concluding that if Jenny was alive, no matter what kind of life she'd been forced to lead, he had to find her. He needed to help her if she was still alive. He loved her and missed her. If she were alive, he'd want to be reunited with her, no matter what.

From there, it was an easy decision to head to Baker Springs. Nathan had spoken with Mrs. Drake, and she had been cooperative; perhaps he could speak to her too. Lydia Drake might be the only living link to Jenny, so finding her was essential. But now, he was at a loss as to what to do. He closed his eyes to pray, but before the words came, a thought struck him. The saddler.

Lydia reached home and immediately rushed into the house in search for Hope. She was met with silence when calling her name inside the cabin, so she decided to look in the barn. But first, she turned to her grandson, giving him instructions, she had hoped to never have to give. It was a drill they'd practiced before, but now, it was for real.

"Luke, I need you to get everything from your and your sister's room. Pack it up and carry it out to the wagon. If I haven't found your mother by then, start on the pantry next. We're going to need some food for the road."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, looking concerned but standing perfectly still.

"What is it, boy? Didn't I say go?"

"Yes. Grandmother, is this real?"

She reached out and touched the boy's shoulder. "I'm afraid it is," she said, turning toward the door. "Don't forget to bring the rifle and plenty of shells."

"Well, he's not at the ridge, and he's not at the lake," Nathan said, walking up to the schoolhouse at recess time.

Elizabeth frowned. "And Lee just stopped by to tell me he saw no sign of him anywhere on his way to the mill. Nathan, where in the world is he? He wouldn't have just left town!"

"Did you check that abandoned cabin just north of here?" Joseph asked, coming around the corner where he was making some repairs on the side of the church.

"Why would he be there?" Nathan asked.

"No reason, in particular, other than it's empty," Joseph said. "It got pretty chilly last night."

Elizabeth looked at Nathan. "You have to find him. He could have gotten out in the elements and…."

"We'll find him," Nathan said. "Don't worry."

"What about that woman you said you talked to? The one married to Drake?" Joseph asked.

Nathan considered his words and shook his head. "I did mention the town she was from. It's possible he went there," he replied. "Do you have a little time you could drive me up there? Might be faster to take your truck than to take Newton."

Joseph shook his head. "Sure. Just let me put the paint away."

Lucas's tires kicked up dust on the road to Wellesley farm, which was exactly where Jake McGraw had said it would be. Initially, Jake was hesitant to give him information, but when Bouchard mentioned he was working with Mountie Grant, McGraw became more cooperative. Throwing his car into park, he looked around for signs of life, but all was quiet. Peaceful. And strangely, comforting.

He stepped out of his car and at once heard a rustling sound nearby. He turned his head and saw chickens scampering across the ground. It was a sign.

XXXXX

"You never say yes to anything!" five-and-a-half-year-old Jenny said, stomping her feet and crossing her arms in front of her.

"Geneviève Anne, don't you dare speak to your mother that way! I told you no, and that's the end of it! Imagine! Having chickens running down the hallway at Monta Rosa!"

"Helen, the animals wouldn't have to be inside. We could build a coop in the backyard. There is room," Martin said, looking up from his paper as they spent a leisurely afternoon on the family's veranda. They had taken a trip the prior afternoon to a dairy farm to educate the children concerning agriculture and where their food comes from, and Jenny had fallen in love with the baby chickens, desiring to have them as pets."

"Martin, do not stick up for the child! Think of the diseases! The….the droppings!"

"Chicken droppings are good for plants. They are full of nitrogen," Lucas said, not looking up from the book he was reading.

Martin chuckled at his son's advanced knowledge, knowing that his latest reading obsession was his father's scientific textbooks. "Lucas is right. Chicken droppings are excellent fertilizer, especially for a certain show rose that a wife of mine would like to enter into the county fair."

Helen began to speak but then shut her mouth. "Is that really true? Droppings are good for roses?"

"It is," Lucas shook his head, finally looking up from his book. "You can make a 'tea' of them and pour them around the base."

"A tea out of chicken poop?" Jenny said, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

"Jenny!" Helen gasped. Martin began to laugh.

"Not the kind you drink, silly. Mixing water with manure will weaken it enough so that the chemicals will not burn the roses; it allows the nutrients to reach the roots. I'm sure if Mother decided to do something like that, Mrs. Beauchamp's roses would pale in comparison." Lucas said.

Helen raised her chin and looked at Martin. "Would this – chicken coop be placed somewhere discreet where it couldn't be seen?"

"In the shady area behind the stables," he replied.

"And you're sure they wouldn't be permitted in the house?"

"Of course not," Martin said. "They would stay outside."

Helen thought for a moment. "Very well. Jenny, you may have a pet chicken, but you must promise to take care of it and make sure you wash thoroughly after touching the little beast."

"Oh! Mommy! Mommy!" she said, hugging Helen around the neck.

"Dear child," Helen said, closing her eyes and relishing the contact.

Lucas looked over toward Martin and grinned, and Martin winked approvingly as the two 'men' of the house returned to their reading. Their son was learning quickly.

XXXXX

Snapping back to reality, Lucas ran his hand through his hair, took a breath, and made his way to the cabin. So many things were running through his mind at that moment. First and foremost was that he was going to be able to speak to the one person who might be able to tell him what happened to Jenny, whether she was dead or alive. But after that, he wondered if she would know what had become of her. He was almost afraid to hear that answer, although he knew he must. And, if the answer involved her being sold into prostitution – what then? The idea that someone would allow a six-year-old to be treated in such a way and would never say anything? It was beyond the pale. Lucas steeled himself as he felt the anger rising within him once again. He had to keep an open mind. He had to not prejudge. None of that would help his sister if, indeed, she was alive. He had to maintain control.

Reaching the doorway, he raised his hand to knock but then noticed his palms were sweaty. He wiped them on his pants and then decided to try again. Raising his hand, a second time, he noticed it was trembling. Seconds from now, he would meet the woman who could possibly help him find his sister. His heart was pounding.

He knocked lightly at first, but there was no answer. So, he knocked a second time. The door swung open.

"I'm sorry, what do you mean a month?" Bill Avery shouted into the phone as the New Orleans police Captain carried out the orders of his superior. In his long career, Avery was used to requesting records from the United States and had never had a problem or delay like this before. He had a distinct feeling that he was getting the runaround.

"It's important that we get these records as soon as possible. It might even be a case of life or death," Avery said.

"Life or death?" the man asked.

"Yes. There was a young woman that we believe was caught up in this scheme. Her family wishes to be reunited with her, and, well, if she's lived in that life for all those years, she could be in danger. Her name is Jenny Bouchard. Perhaps you've heard of the family?"

Martyn furrowed his brow. "The name sounds familiar."

"They thought she had been killed. But with the connection to Henry Drake, there's the possibility she's alive. We're hoping the records might shine some light on where these girls ended up. And, maybe from there, maybe we could find out what happened to her."

"I see," Thomas said, looking at a photo on his desk of his wife and teenage daughter. "That puts a different complexion on it. I'll talk to Superintendent Fontaine and see if we can expedite your request."

Bill smiled. "Thank you. Solomon Drake is dead. It's time the girl came home."

"Hello? Is anyone here? Mrs. Drake?"

Lucas's calls were met with silence, so he stepped inside the cabin. Strangely, he felt a comforting presence in that place. Three empty plates and a half-full cup of coffee were on the table. So, Drake wasn't alone? Surely, someone was home. Not wishing to intrude or violate their privacy, he called out again. Still, there was silence. The peaceful feeling in his heart began to wane. What had he walked into?

Stepping through the house, he approached what appeared to be a bedroom. He knocked on the door and then poked his head inside, only to find it empty. Moving toward the next room, he was surprised to find that it contained two twin beds. Just as in the first room, they were topped by empty mattresses, no sheets, no blankets, no pillows. Just an empty room. He walked back into the hallway and went to a third room; this one, too, was a bedroom. Open dresser drawers and an open closet with clothes hangers being strewn all about were indicators that whoever had been there had left in haste.

The house was empty. His link to Jenny was gone.

Defeated. Lucas slowly crossed the bedroom floor and sat on the bed. After everything that had transpired, to be allowed to think Jenny was alive only to never have the ability to know what happened to her? It felt so unfair.

"What are you doing, Lord?" he said, lowering his head. Tears began to roll down his face as hope was replaced by despair. "Am I being punished?"

XXXXX

"It's okay, Lucas. Don't cry," Jenny said, rubbing her brother's back as he wept in his bed.

"Am I being punished?"

"Of course not, silly."

"But she's going away," Lucas said.

"I know," she said. "But we'll get a new nanny, and you'll see, she'll love us like Nanny Richie did. Everything will be fine, you'll see. And, if she's not like Nanny Richie, well, we'll always have each other."

XXXXX

A bitter feeling arose in Lucas's heart as he remembered her words, remembered her face, remembered the tenderness with which she had spoken to him. Little Jenny was so full of hope, she was always there to encourage him, and after she left, he had no one. But what was more painful to him than, that was she too was left alone – alone to face whatever befell her – alone to have that sweet innocence stripped from her, destroying the child within.

Lucas slammed his fist against the mattress, then he hit it again as angry tears fell, and he began to sob. "Why did you let this happen, God?! She was just a baby! I couldn't stop them! I was just a boy!"

God's silence only increased Lucas's rage. "They took her from us when You were the only one who could protect her. She was the only friend I had. She was my baby sister, and I had to grow up without her. And to hear that she could have been subjected to that?! NO!" Lucas screamed, standing up and kicking over the nightstand. "It's not fair. It's just so wrong! She was so innocent. So good. Oh, dear Lord? Where were you? Where are you now?"

Lucas crumpled to the floor and began to weep, his head resting on his arm as he wet the floor with his tears. At that moment, it felt like once again he was that little boy standing in the alley, powerless to help her, powerless to stop them, helpless and all alone. Lucas hugged his arms to his chest. The pain of the moment was so great that he wanted to die. But then he saw it, just the smallest movement a few feet away. Blinking away tears, he tried to focus but then began to cry again when he saw what it was - a chicken feather. A reminder of Jenny.

He sat up on his elbow and reached to pick it up but then spotted something else, peeking from the bottom side of the nightstand now lying on its side. It appeared to be a book.

He scooted over to the stand and gently tugged on the drawer to where the book fell onto the floor. He picked it up, and a piece of paper slipped from inside it. Laying the book down in his lap, he reached for the paper and stared at it in disbelief.

Nathan and Joseph pulled up to the cabin, relieved to see Lucas's car outside. Taking a deep breath, Nathan nodded toward his pastor.

"Well, we'd better go see how he is."

Entering the cabin, they became concerned when Bouchard was nowhere to be seen.

"Think maybe he's outside?" Joseph asked.

"Not sure," Nathan replied. "Let's check in back."

Nathan and Joseph glanced in the first two rooms, then looked at each other and shrugged. Making their way to the third, they saw the back of Lucas's head as he was sitting on the floor. He didn't move as they entered the room and didn't respond when Nathan spoke his name.

Joseph looked toward Nathan with an expression of foreboding; then, he shook his head when they walked to the other side of the bed and saw Bouchard just staring down at his hand.

Nathan knelt; compassion toward his troubled friend enveloped his heart. He spoke his name again, gently.

"Lucas. We're here. Are you okay?"

It took several seconds, but Bouchard raised his face toward Nathan. It did not hold the same pain as before; rather, it reflected an effervescent joy. His smile radiated as tears streamed down his face.

He raised his eyebrows, and the words that followed left Nathan and Joseph speechless.

"She's alive!"