Warm gulf breezes streamed into room 404 as Elizabeth Thornton began her daily ritual. Sitting in a chair next to an open window, Elizabeth spent the first few minutes of the day chronicling the events of her life as she had done since she was a teenager. She kept an eye on the clock since she and Lucas were to meet the others for a late lunch, after which their three traveling companions would go to an appointment at the Police Precinct. The hope was that in going through personnel records, Jenny could at last identify the man who may have been the kingpin in charge of the illegal prostitution ring for the past thirty years.

Looking out across the city, she wished that she had taken note of some of the sights, smells, and sounds she'd experienced on this exciting trip so as to record them for posterity. It could be hard to recall them later on. And so, she resolved to carry her journal with her when she and Lucas took a walk later that afternoon, as he had promised.

Turning her face back to her page, she lifted her fountain pen and began to write.

Saturday, June 20, 1920 - New Orleans, Louisiana

Although our trip to New Orleans was mostly uneventful, the two days since we arrived have been anything but. I should have expected nothing less from a hotel stay that started off with a ghost story.

I traveled frequently in my younger days, but I must admit that New Orleans has quickly become one of my favorite places- maybe because of the rich culture here or quite possibly because I am here with the man I love with every fragment of my heart. Traveling to the place where Lucas spent his childhood has shown an excitement in him that thrills me, in spite of the guardedness I see in his eyes every time we leave the hotel. After last night, I understand his reasoning for being wary.

Our tour of the cemetery was both stimulating and frightening- of course, being shot at in a dark graveyard near the 'Voodoo Queen of New Orleans," Marie Laveau's tomb, as we were, would be quite terrifying for anybody. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and hopefully, all of those involved in this devilish scheme will soon be caught so that no one else is harmed by their evil crimes.

Despite the scary moments last night, this trip has been mostly pleasant and enjoyable.

The food here is exquisite, especially at Antoine's, where I met some of Lucas's old friends, the Alciatores, who own the restaurant. They were very nice, although I think Marie Alciatore is disappointed that I don't fit the description of the woman she dreamed of for Lucas, lacking the "platinum hair and crystal eyes" she described so vividly. Of course, dreams usually mean nothing at all and infrequently are of consequence.

But even as I write this, there is one dream that I can't seem to push aside or easily dismiss. It's the dream I had of Jack before leaving Hope Valley, the one I chronicled in this journal a little over a week ago. That dream, in particular, felt so real and left in its wake so many questions. For instance, is the dream I had of Jack one of those that, in reality, has no meaning? Is it, and the sighting I had yesterday, of no importance at all? Am I only thinking of him more because the wedding is so near? Or is my late husband trying to tell me something? Perhaps warn me of something?

It is no surprise that Jack would be on my mind- after all, he was my first love. But he was not to be my lifetime. Lucas was, and is.

Perhaps after we say 'I do,' these dreams, unsettled thoughts, and apparitions will finally cease because my love for Lucas transcends anything I ever believed it could after losing Jack. He is an amazing man, and always puts me and my son first in everything he says or does. He loves Little Jack like his own. I wish I could convince him to marry me today. Would it be wrong to try? I long to be his wife.

And yet, as certain as I am of marrying Lucas, what is this niggling feeling that refuses to leave my mind? It is almost close enough to grab and yet barely out of reach. I like being here with my future husband in this stimulating city, but perhaps I should have stayed home as he instructed because today, I really miss my son.

Looking at the clock, Elizabeth closed the book and capped her pen, standing up to draw a bath in preparation for the day. She chuckled as she moved to the bathroom and began to draw her bath as she recalled how much time it had taken her fiancé to get ready that morning. He was worse than the women in his time of bathing and primping, and yes, Nathan was right. When Lucas was done it did smell a little like a cologne factory in the room, but she wasn't at all complaining. It took time to tame that unruly mane of his that tempted her so to run her fingers through it once it was more properly coifed. Considering that in thirteen short days, this gorgeous man would finally be hers in every way, almost made her squeal like a schoolgirl. And yet, it seemed like an eternity. Her lips curled up on either side as she thought about that day while testing the bathwater with her finger. Perhaps they could move the wedding up? They had the witnesses. But would Lucas agree?

At one thirty in the afternoon, a light tap came on the door, and her beloved's voice followed with it.

"May I come in?"

Elizabeth was just putting in her earrings and smiled at the velvety sound of his voice. "You may."

Lucas entered and soon joined his intended beside the mirror, wrapping his arms around her from behind and breathing in her perfume. It was one of the few moments they had had together, and he wished to cherish it.

"You look amazing," he said in husky, languid tones, kissing her shoulder.

It was a test of every ounce of discipline Elizabeth had to not turn around and cancel their lunch, spending the afternoon alone with the man of her dreams. She looked at him with a slight grin. "Thank you."

As if he had read her mind, Bouchard turned her around. "You don't think we could….you know…ditch the others and just stay here…just the two of us?"

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Lucas's neck. "As tempting as that is, I think the others would not appreciate it. We should at least see them off, then we have the afternoon to spend with one another."

"If you say so," he teased, in a manner that was not unreminiscent of Allie Grant, a not-so-little girl who had a special place in both of their hearts.

"Later," Elizabeth said, kissing him on his nose and sashaying past him toward the door.

A few minutes later, the pair exited the hotel and walked around a block down the street to a small but busy café on Bourbon Street, where a table had already been reserved.

"Okay, Bouchard. You haven't steered us wrong yet. What's good here?" Nathan said, looking down at the menu and trying to determine what to eat.

When Lucas didn't answer, and the Mountie looked up, seeing the businessman grinning, looking between Nathan and his sister, Grant turned to face Jenny. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong. It's just you never ask me."

"You?" he asked.

"Yes. I may not have lived here as long as Lucas has, but Nan does have some Creole roots and, well, I might be able to make a recommendation. After all, one of the things that I've admired about you is that you do not treat me like some porcelain doll in a window, but you value and respect my opinion as much as any man's."

Elizabeth and Lucas both bit their lower lips and bowed their heads, trying not to laugh, but Nathan wasn't going to be cajoled. He turned his eyes toward Avery. "You going to help me here?"

Bill smirked. "I would say ask the lady for her opinion."

Lucas's shoulders began to shake slightly, stopping only when Elizabeth reached over and touched his knee. He swallowed hard and grabbed his own menu, using it to hide the blush now present on his face.

"You know your ears get red when you get nervous?" Nathan asked.

"I believe you have other things to concern yourself with than my ears," Bouchard replied in all seriousness. Elizabeth chuckled, and he looked at her from the side of his eye, her grin inspiring one of his own.

"Okay. What should I order?" Nathan asked his female companion.

Jenny shrugged. "I don't know. I've never been here before. Maybe you should ask Lucas."

Suddenly, the entire table erupted into laughter as it was Nathan's time to blush. Jenny leaned forward and pinched his cheek, giving him a smile so sweet that he quickly forgot the entire exchange.

"Are you ready to order?" a waiter dressed in white asked with pen in hand, breaking the gaiety of the moment.

"I think Bouchard should order for us," Avery said, meriting a raised eyebrow from Grant. He shrugged. "Well, he hasn't steered us wrong so far." Nathan chuckled.

All eyes focused on Lucas, who ran his finger briefly across the list of menu items before returning his eyes to his friends. "How hungry are you?"

"Famished," Nathan said.

Lucas nodded. "I believe we will have three Muffaletta sandwiches and six cups of French Onion Soup.

"Very good sir," the waiter said, collecting the menus. After he had gone, Nathan looked at Lucas. "Three sandwiches? Is that going to be enough?"

Bouchard pursed his lips and nodded. "Trust me. It'll be enough."

After finishing the filling meal, which consisted of Italian Bread sandwiches as big as a plate and consisting of olive salad, cheese, and at least a pound and a half of Italian meats in each one, almost everyone was ready to return to their rooms for a nap. But, with a three o'clock appointment with Cantrell at the precinct, they couldn't afford the luxury. So, they each went their separate ways, Bill, Nathan, and Jenny to the station and Lucas and Elizabeth on a lovely stroll down the streets of the city.

Bouchard held his fiancée's hand as he took her down by Jackson Square. Given the openness of the area and the number of people around, he figured the danger was minimal at that time of day. They strolled around the grounds, feeling the sunshine permeate their bodies, and enjoyed each other's company, discussing their co-travelers, the case, and how, as much as they were enjoying it there, they couldn't wait to get back home.

"After we get married, would you ever consider moving away from the rowhouse and perhaps into a newer, more modern home where, perhaps, we might have room to, um…expand?" Lucas asked as he stood on a platform, looking straight ahead toward the Mississippi River.

"Expand?" Elizabeth asked, feigning ignorance of his meaning.

Lucas looked toward her apprehensively. "Yes. I assumed that you might want more children, seeing you're so good with them, but…"

Elizabeth raised her hand to Lucas's cheek. "I will go to the ends of the earth with you and move wherever you want to move. You are what's important to me, Lucas. And I can't wait until we are one."

Bouchard's eyes lit up with delight at her answer. "Elizabeth. I am so happy to hear that. You see, there's a property that I was looking at toward the edge of town. It would take a while to build the house, and of course, you would be in on the planning every step of the way…."

"Nothing could make me happier," she purred. "Well, almost."

"Almost?"

She nodded.

"What is it you want? Ask me anything, and I'll give it to you."

"Anything?" she said, her blue eyes flashing up toward his eager face.

"Anything."

Elizabeth pinched her lips together. "Well, I was thinking about something….something we could do right here and now."

"Here in New Orleans?"

"Yes."

Lucas thought for a moment. "Name it."

"Elope."

Lucas lowered his brow and tilted his head. "Did you…did you just say you want to elope?"

"Think of it! The city is so beautiful, and we have witnesses. I mean, your sister is here…."

"But yours aren't, nor are our parents, nor are the Coulters, nor is your…our son…."

Elizabeth twisted her mouth to the side and sighed. "So that's a no?"

Lucas stepped toward her. "I am afraid so. But just a little while longer, Mon Amour, and you shall be mine," he said, giving her a kiss.

"I'm already yours," she replied. "And you're right. It's just like you always said. We have all the time in the world."

The rest of the afternoon, the couple laughed and chatted and even danced in front of everyone when a Jazz Band was playing a particularly romantic song. Then they sat down for tea, and while Lucas went to the counter to place their order, Elizabeth pulled out her journal and wrote down everything that had happened that day and how it made her feel. Cherished. Loved. And very much in love with this precious man.

Back at the precinct, Jenny, Bill, and Nathan sat around a table looking through police personnel file after personnel file – scanning photographs, looking for a man matching the verbal description she gave of the man who had visited the Drake's home so many years prior. One hour turned into another, and soon, nearly five hours had passed with no breakthrough. Jenny's mind was growing tired.

"He's not here," she said. "All of this, and he's just not here."

"Maybe Drake knew him from someplace else," Nathan suggested.

"No. I distinctly remember them mentioning New Orleans and talking about the police."

"About anything in particular?"

"They mumbled a lot, so I didn't hear. But I remember the man's face. He'd have to be in his sixties by now. I really didn't like him."

Captain Cantrell entered the room. "I take it you haven't had any luck?"

"None," Bill replied. "Any more ideas?"

Cantrell shook his head. "This was our best shot. I'm afraid we may be back where we started."

Jenny looked at Nathan with disappointment, and he caressed her arm. "At least you tried."

A few minutes later, the group stood and began walking down the hallway toward the building's entrance. The captain called to one of his men. "Did you get the security detail ready, like I asked?"

"Yes sir," the man said.

Cantrell turned to Jenny. "A couple of my men have been assigned to escort you back to the hotel and to the train station tomorrow. After what happened last night, we don't want to take any chances."

"We appreciate that," Nathan said as they stood in the hallway.

Suddenly, Jenny's brow furrowed, and she walked past the Mountie, looking at a particular photo on the wall. Nathan turned her way.

"Who is that?" she asked, pointing at the image.

"You see something?" Grant asked.

Cantrell stepped forward. "The man in the center? That's our former mayor."

Jenny shook her head. "No. Not him. The man next to him. The one with the mustache."

Cantrell's trusted Lieutenant, Lyndon Carlson, stepped forward. "That's Judge Mayford. Manus Mayford."

Jenny looked at Nathan and then at Cantrell.

"Him?" Cantrell asked.

Jenny nodded. "I would know him anywhere."

The captain looked concerned. "Okay then. I need you to come to the back room and add that to your statement. Carlson, I need you to reach out to archives and see what they know about Mayford's whereabouts around the time Jenny was kidnapped. Be discrete."

"Yes, sir," he said, immediately taking off.

"You may have just broken this case wide open, young lady," the captain said.

Jenny looked at Nathan, expecting a smile but finding him deep in thought. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

Grant looked at Avery. "Does that name sound familiar to you? Manus Mayford?"

Bill considered it for just a moment, and then a look of realization came upon his face. "Wait. He's not that judge who…."

Grant nodded. "We need to call Lucas."

"Well, it wasn't at the restaurant," Lucas said, looking under the mattress and then the nightstand.

"I told you, it's not here either," Elizabeth said. "I took it with me."

"Maybe I could get you a new one?"

"No!" she replied, folding her arms in front of her. "That journal has all of my treasured memories for the past year and a half. It has how I felt when you proposed to me and everything about when we found Jenny." She began to tear up.

"Don't worry, my love. Maybe I can put out an ad in the paper and offer a reward. I'm sure it'll turn up. Perhaps…."

Just then, the phone rang, and Lucas turned to take the line. Elizabeth brushed a tear from her eye.

"Yes….." Lucas said. "Oh, hi Nathan….She…she did?!"

Elizabeth looked up toward the phone, and Bouchard explained that Jenny identified the man.

"That's wonderful!" Elizabeth said, clasping her hands in front of her face.

"Wait, what did you say his name was?" Lucas asked, suddenly looking grim. "But that was the judge who….What?! He's free?!" His mind began to reel. "I need to get Elizabeth out of here."

"Lucas, what is it?" Thornton asked.

Lucas put his hand over the receiver. "The man who was heading up the kidnapping ring is the same judge who released Amos Dixon from jail after he tried to kill Jeanette. Manus Mayford."

"Oh, my goodness!"

"But she's in danger!" Lucas said, returning to the conversation but being told by Nathan, in conjunction with feedback from Cantrell and Avery, that sending Elizabeth home on a train at this point would put her in more danger. She was safer at the hotel. He finally agreed.

"Yes, yes. Of course," he said, nodding. "I'll be right there."

Lucas hung up the phone and turned to get his jacket.

"Where are we going?"

"Nowhere. You are staying here."

"But Lucas."

"Elizabeth, listen to me. This is very important. I need you to stay in this room with the doors locked and don't leave it for anything. Amos Dixon is out of jail, and ten to one he's the guy who hired the guy that tried to take a shot at us last night. They want me to go to the police station to make a statement, hoping that maybe something I know will help lead them to him."

"I can't go with you?"

"No. The sun has gone down, and it's a very dangerous situation. Promise me you'll stay here. And don't leave for any reason."

Elizabeth nodded. "Be safe," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

While Lucas made his way to police headquarters, Elizabeth sat down on her bed and made a phone call to Hope Valley to check on little Jack. She only spent a few minutes talking to the little boy, but it filled her heart with such warmth that she was still smiling when she hung up. She couldn't wait to go home and see him. Ten minutes after she hung up, she had just taken a seat by the window to read a novel she'd brought along when the telephone rang. She jumped up from her seat to answer.

"Hello?" Um….This is Miss Graves. Yes…..What? Oh, you've found it?! You mean someone turned it in?" That's wonderful! I'll be right down."

At the precinct, Lucas sat down with Carlson and Cantrell and detailed everything he could remember about Amos Dixon, where he lived, who his associates were, and any particular facts about him that he considered pertinent. In the end, Cantrell had a list of possible locations where he might find the outlaw. He thanked him for his help.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth exited the elevator onto the fourth floor, holding her journal to her chest and squeezing it like it were her dearest treasure. "I'll never lose you again," she said as she entered her room and shut the door. The moment the door shut, she heard a click coming from a chair just across the room. She gasped when she saw the familiar man holding a gun at her.

"Well, hello, Mrs. Thornton," Amos said. "We meet again."

Arriving at the hotel, Lucas immediately stopped by the front desk to check for messages so that he could quickly return to Elizabeth on the fourth floor. There being none, he inquired about the missing journal, anticipating an answer that it was not found, but was both surprised and chagrined when he was informed that not only was it found but that Miss Graves had picked it up. Bouchard felt his stomach clench when he considered that she had disobeyed his instructions, risking her life. Frustrated, he moved to the elevator and impatiently watched the indicator light waiting for the car to arrive.

When he finally reached their floor, Lucas already had his room key in his hand and was aggravated with Elizabeth enough that he didn't even think about knocking. But when he began to stick the key in the door, and it immediately creaked open, he felt the blood drain from his face. Pushing the door with the back of his hand a little further, Lucas began to feel sick when he saw the hotel room disheveled. His heart pounded in his ears as he moved further into the room, unsure if he would find Elizabeth hiding, injured, or worse. The room was empty.

He immediately crossed the floor to call the police, but when he reached the nightstand and saw a note – not in Elizabeth's handwriting, he shuddered. Lucas swallowed as he picked up the paper, unfolded it, and read the message inside.

You never should have crossed me.

Meet me at the Silver Palace. Your life or hers. Come Alone. A.D.

Feeling his legs beginning to give way underneath him, Lucas sat on the bed and stared at the note, his mind pummeling him with a thousand possibilities and none of them good. He knew Dixon had no intention of letting them survive, and he also knew that he'd kill Elizabeth without a second thought if he failed to come alone. If he went alone, he might overpower him and save them both – but if he didn't, perhaps he could stir up enough of a ruckus that Elizabeth could escape. Then again, she might try to help him, resulting in the unthinkable happening. He knew what he had to do. Reaching toward the nightstand, he picked up the phone and rang the front desk.

"This is Marcel Dubois in room 404. I need you to connect me with the New Orleans police department, 8th precinct, Captain Cantrell. It's urgent."

At the Silver Palace, Amos traipsed around triumphantly with a gun in his hand while his victim sat helplessly in a chair in the middle of the room. The saloon had once been a bustling place when the Matranga brothers ruled the land and brought all of their most influential business prospects there to entertain. But between the assassination of Chief Hennessey and continual fighting with a rival mafia group, the Provenzano family, things began to destabilize, and the Matrangas focused their attention on activities elsewhere in the city. This shift left the owners of the saloon in a tight situation, unable to pay the performers that once graced the large stage and eventually incapable of staying in business. They sold the saloon for pennies on the dollar in 1912 to a former friend of Dixon, and for a short time, it became a hangout for gamblers, including Amos and, at certain times, including Lucas. It was where men went to settle scores with cards. It was where Lucas cheated the one time in his life to save Jeanette, but it was eventually abandoned. Now, it was a dilapidated ruin and the backdrop to Bouchard's worst nightmare. Amos Dixon had a front-row seat.

"Do you play piano?" he asked, walking over to an old upright which sat gathering cobwebs at stage left.

Elizabeth didn't answer.

"I understand you sing."

"A little," she replied, considering it would be best if she did not make him angry.

"Why don't you sing me a little tune," he replied, walking up beside her and brushing the tip of his gun barrel against her cheek.

"W-what, what would you like me to sing?" she asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.

Amos thought for a moment. "I remember the last time they had a show here, one of the girls sang a song that comes to mind every now and then. What was that song?" Dixon hummed a few notes of the tune, mostly on pitch and enough that Elizabeth immediately knew the song's title. She mumbled it quietly as she looked toward the floor.

"What was that?" he asked.

"The song is called Danny Boy," she replied stiffly, emotion rising in her chest.

"Yes. That's the one. That's what I want to hear. Sing Danny Boy for me."

Lucas hailed a taxi and embarked upon a drive to an area about five miles from the French Quarter to Friscoville Avenue in Arabi, Louisiana, a notorious den for gambling. Bouchard had been invited to the area once by a friend of his who knew of his proclivity for cards, and when he realized that the halls were not reputable, he shied away from them. He didn't do so, however, before capturing the attention of Amos Dixon, a New Orleans businessman and, unbeknownst to Bouchard, a friend of the Matrangas. Lucas and Dixon engaged in a few business deals together, mostly involving investments that Bouchard was seeking to support a friend of his who was looking to utilize airplanes as a method for revolutionizing trade between the United States and Rio De Janeiro. Dixon invested in Bouchard's friend's project but only as a way of further connecting himself with Lucas, whom he viewed as a shrewd investor and a young man with useful potential for other activities he had planned for the future.

Amos's mistake was in crossing Lucas's friend, the widow Jeanette Alcoin, widow of New Orleans baseball player Jean Alcoin, who had fallen on hard times. Jean was a proud man and one apt to show his largesse to others. Nobody knew at the time that this largesse had come in the form of substantial loans from Dixon – even his best friend, Lucas Bouchard. It was only when Alcoin passed away that his widow discovered the debt and her own inability to pay it. From there, things spiraled with Dixon continually jacking up her interest in order to foreclose upon her business. Jeanette eventually confessed the subterfuge to Lucas, who used his connections with Dixon to try to 'win' forgiveness for her debt. At the time, the sum owed was all of the available cash Bouchard had in the world, but that mattered less to him than protecting his friend's widow. He met Dixon at the Silver Palace, which had recently been vacated by its owners and was only used for underworld activities by those with connections. The game was five-card stud, something Lucas was expert at. But on that particular evening, the hands dealt seemed to be decidedly not in his favor as Lucas watched his own chip pile diminish upon each and every turn and Dixon's grow. He would soon be out of money altogether if something didn't change. So Bouchard used his sense of observation and his sixth sense about people to determine what didn't feel right about the situation and discovered Dixon was cheating. And, with Charles Matrenga's son sitting just a few feet away, he made the biggest gamble of his life and followed suit. Going all in, Bouchard managed to defeat Dixon with a full house, and Matrenga, who had financed Dixon, ordered the loan forgiven. But Amos was astute enough to know that Bouchard had cheated too, and in his anger, he vowed revenge – attempting it a few days later when he tried to burn the widow Jeanette's business to the ground – with her in it. Lucas spotted the fire and saved Alcoin before she perished but, after testifying against Dixon at his trial, was forced to flee New Orleans and Dixon's associate's wrath – first, going to San Francisco, then to Cape Fullerton, Alberta with Jeanette and finally settling in Hope Valley. Dixon spent less than three months in jail for his crimes and pursued Bouchard everywhere he went. It was, therefore, no surprise to Lucas that he had managed to be freed once again and was trying to finish the job. With Elizabeth in danger, Lucas knew that everything he held dear was on the line, and he would do everything he could to save her life, even if it meant sacrificing his own.

Bouchard's phone call reached Cantrell just as Jenny, Bill, and Nathan were packing up to leave the precinct. And while the captain knew in general where the old saloon was located, he took time to find a sergeant who had served in St. Bernard Parish and had, he thought, a better feel for where they were going. The search for this man wasted a precious eight minutes and it was ten fifty-five before the contingent left the station.

At the same time, Lucas's taxi had reached the town of Arabi, taking him as far as the turnoff to the saloon where he asked to be dropped off. To accomplish what he needed to accomplish, Bouchard would need the element of surprise, so he exited the vehicle and completed the last quarter mile on foot.

Inside the building, Amos laughed as he forced Elizabeth to entertain him, her tears meaning nothing to his malevolent soul. But it was when he walked over to an abandoned trunk and, pulled out a cabaret dancer's costume and tossed it her way, ordering her to put it on, that Thornton began to panic.

"Put it on!" he said, looking at the garment that had fallen to the ground.

Elizabeth began to sob. "Please. Please don't do this. My father is a wealthy man. He will do anything for you."

"You think I'm interested in money?! Think again. I'm interested in vengeance. Lucas Bouchard took from me. Now I'm going to take from him."

Lucas reached the building and stepped up to a broken window, attempting to gauge where Dixon was so he could plan his attack. When he looked through the glass, however, and saw what was happening, a fierce rage like fire began to flow through his veins.

"I have a son," Elizabeth pleaded.

"Yeah, you mentioned him before. Too bad you didn't learn your lesson the first time. Now take off your clothes and put it on."

Thornton looked around. "Is there a dressing room?"

Amos laughed and mockingly repeated her question. "Is there a dressing room? Is there a dressing room? Yeah, sweetheart. Right here. You're undressing in front of me."

A chill ran through Elizabeth's body. She tightened her jaw. "And if I refuse?"

Dixon whipped out his gun and pointed it directly at the teacher. "Then that boyfriend of yours finds you lying in a pool of blood. Now, stop your stalling and do it! NOW!" he shouted, bending down, picking up the costume, then tossing it at her.

Catching the frock, she held the garment in her hand, running her fingers over its satin and lace exterior while she tried to think of a way to escape.

Meanwhile, Lucas had made his way to a porch on the second floor and quietly slipped through an upstairs window. He now stood above them on the inside balcony, his form obscured only by a single length of curtain and the darkness above. From this vantage point, he could see everything: the piano directly below, the trunk, and some scraps of wood that remained after teardown from their last production. He plotted his next move and determined in his mind that Dixon would not survive the night.

Amos leered at the teacher. "Hurry up. You don't want to delay showtime, now do you? It's almost time."

"It's almost time." At the same time Dixon's words were spoken, the tender voice of Elizabeth's husband said them to her, calming her spirit. "Don't be afraid, Elizabeth. It's almost time to go home."

At that moment, all seemed to stand still, and Elizabeth was aware of only herself and Jack as she tried to discern what he was trying to tell her.

"But our train doesn't leave until tomorrow."

"You won't be boarding the train," Jack replied. "You're going home with me."

Elizabeth's mind pondered his words and the information he was revealing, and she resisted it. "But what about Jack, our son? What about Lucas? Our wedding…."

"They will be okay. It will take some time, but they'll both be fine."

"Jack, I don't want to go. I don't want to leave here. I have so much more to give."

"Elizabeth, we don't get to determine when our time is through. Do you think I wanted to leave you just three weeks after we were married? God had another job for me to do, just as He has for you."

"I won't do it!" she said, the vision of Jack beginning to fade from her vision. The Mountie smiled softly. "You always were too stubborn for your own good."

"Stop stalling. We don't have all day!" Dixon said, reaching out and grabbing her shirt. The fabric ripped when Elizabeth tried to pull away from him. He grabbed her by one arm, but she slapped him and stomped on his foot. Shoving him hard, she turned and began to run. Dixon fumbled with his gun and raised it toward her, attempting to take aim.

In a split second, Lucas grabbed onto the drapery and jumped from the balcony, landing on his feet on the top of the upright piano, which he used as a one-two stage to launch himself in Dixon's direction. Amos didn't see it coming, and before he realized it, Bouchard's body slammed into his, casting him to the floor. The gun went off but hit a wall on the side of the saloon. Elizabeth screamed.

"Run!" Lucas yelled, trying with all his might to wrest the weapon from Dixon's hand.

The police had just pulled up to the saloon, and Cantrell was about to give instruction to his men when they heard the shot.

"That was gunfire," Lyndon said. Cantrell nodded. "Carlson, you and Majors go around the back. I want Stewart and Hudson to take the side. Jenny, stay in the car. Avery, Grant, draw your guns and come with me."

Lucas held Dixon's arm down against the floor with all his body weight and, for a moment, seemed to be winning, but a swift knee to Lucas's groin caused Bouchard to lose his grip. Still, he kept his mind in the moment and, despite the blinding pain he felt, continued to try to subdue Dixon. Lucas leaned his forearm across Dixon's bicep, trying to get him to drop his weapon, but the outlaw managed to flip him to his back.

From the side of the stage, a desperate Elizabeth tried to figure out what to do. Spotting the discarded wood, she grabbed a plank and rushed over toward Dixon to try to beat him away from Bouchard. Lucas saw her coming and yelled. "No, Elizabeth! Go!"

Thorton ignored his plea and took the plank and swung it at Dixon's head, hitting him as hard as she could. The momentum from her strike caused Dixon to let go of Bouchard as he swung to the side. In a split second, his finger depressed his trigger, and another shot rang out. The bullet flew across the stage toward Elizabeth and embedded in her chest. Lucas cried, "NO!" as the teacher fell to the ground.

Pushing Dixon away from him, Bouchard scampered on his knees across the stage toward the love of his life. He leaned over her, his arms reaching forth to embrace her. "Elizabeth? Please…please be okay."

Elizabeth stared upward toward the ceiling as tears filled her eyes. "Lucas?"

"I'm here," Lucas said, his left hand reaching out to grasp hers as his right hand brushed the hair away from her face.

"Lucas. I'm cold," she said again.

Bouchard began to cry, removing his jacket and laying it over her. "I'm here, Elizabeth. Hold on, Mon Amour. You're going to be okay."

He watched as the color began to drain from her face, and the expression in her eyes became more and more vacant.

"I should have listened to you," she rasped. "I am so sorry."

"It's not important. Don't try to talk, darling. Save your strength."

"I never thought I could love another man after Jack died, but you came into my life, and you captured my heart – my whole heart. Thank you for being patient with me."

"You're my life," he quietly reasoned, voice full of emotion.

"I so wanted us to be a family," she said.

"And we will be! We still will be," Lucas said desperately, his tears now flowing down upon her as he continued to stroke her hair. He lowered his forehead to hers and began to shake through his sobs. "Elizabeth, please. I need you to hold on, my darling. Please don't leave me. Please stay."

"Elizabeth." The room lit up around her as Jack stood beside her.

"I need for you to live, Lucas. I need for you to live and to go on…"

"No…." he whispered.

"…and to love, again. You have so much love to give. Don't let it die with me."

"No, Elizabeth…please…please don't talk that way…you're going to be okay."

"Elizabeth," Jack said as he knelt next to her.

Elizabeth looked at Lucas, whose face was just inches away and she raised her hand and pressed it to the side of his cheek. "Kiss me one more time."

Lucas closed his eyes, his heart crumbling before him, and lowered his lips to hers. She raised her arm with what little strength remained and wrapped it around his neck then broke the kiss. "I love you, my darling, for all eternity. Please tell our son I love him."

"Elizabeth?" Lucas whispered, his body continuing to shake. "You mustn't leave. Please stay with me. You're all I have."

"Elizabeth, it's time," Jack said softly, reaching out his hand.

"Jack?" Elizabeth gasped, Lucas watching as her eyes lit up with a mixture of joy and awe.

"Come. Take a walk with me," the handsome Mountie said.

Elizabeth turned her eyes toward Lucas one last time and smiled a soft smile. "It's so beautiful," she whispered.

A primal scream filled the air as Lucas felt her expel her final breath.

Immediately, Nathan, Bill, and Cantrell burst through the front door. Dixon, who had recovered from Elizabeth's blow, had planned to finish them off but, upon seeing movement outside, had turned and escaped through the back door before the other officers could see him. Therefore, by the time the party entered the room, it was only Lucas and Elizabeth lying in the middle of the stage alone, his body draped over hers.

From inside the car, Jenny heard her brother's cry and came running. She followed the men into the building.

"Lucas?!"

"Jenny!" Nathan scolded. "Get back in the car!"

Ignoring his instructions, she ran toward her brother but stopped in her tracks as she got closer. Raising a hand to her mouth, she turned and looked at Nathan.

While Cantrell searched the rest of the building and gathered his men, Grant and Avery ascended the stage. Nathan pulled Lucas up from his position. The slightly younger man stared blankly, shaking and muttering incoherent words as Nathan attempted to sit him up.

"He's in shock," Nathan said, turning toward Bill who now held Elizabeth and was rocking her in his arms.

Grant's mouth dropped open, and he slowly lowered Lucas back to the ground, seeing for the first time the blood on Elizabeth's chemise. His expression turned to horror. "Bill?"

Avery looked up, his grief-stricken expression saying what the Mountie never wanted to hear. Tears descended the judge's cheeks, and he shook his head. "She's gone."

"She's gone." Bill's words echoed in Nathan's mind as he sat on the floor staring blankly at the hallway tile in New Orlean's Charity Hospital. He had just seen her that morning, alive, well, happy, and in a split second, a murderer's gun took her away. Elizabeth Thornton was gone. As a Mountie, Grant was trained and prepared for situations like this, but he was not prepared for this.

The time of her death was declared as 11:15 PM June 20, 1920 – thirteen days before what would have been her thirty-fifth birthday, as well as the day she was to have been married.

Nathan and Bill were with her when they took her away, and then they went to the hospital, where they waited with Jenny outside of the E.R. while Lucas was being evaluated. Grant had seen Bouchard in this shape once before and feared for him. He knew how much he loved her and how lost he was likely to be without her, so it came as no surprise to the Mountie to see his friend in such a shape.

He was a mess, and if Nathan were honest with himself, so was he. Ever since he came to Hope Valley, Elizabeth had played a central role in Nathan's life, helping him in areas where the man who prided himself on being self-sufficient was not. And, although the love he had for her was of a different character than he originally thought it was, a fact he now recognized because of his relationship with Jenny, it was nevertheless special and hard to define. It was similar to the sibling love that he had with his sister Coleen, and yet it wasn't. It was a deep and abiding friendship, and now it was over. How would he survive without her?

"Have they caught him yet?" Jeanette's voice entering the hallway expressed a plethora of emotions, from fear to anger to a resolute determination not to allow Dixon to win. Bill stood upright from his position against the wall and joined her.

"They're looking for him. Why are you here? I told you to stay put."

She grasped onto Bill's arm as he led her further into the hallway. "I couldn't. Not when I heard what had happened. How is he? How is Lucas?" she asked, looking from Bill to Nathan and then Jenny.

"We don't know yet," Jenny replied. "He wasn't conversant."

"I'm sure he wasn't," Jeanette replied. "Who would have ever thought that something like this could happen to Elizabeth?"

"It's my fault," Nathan said from the floor, using the back of his hand to wipe bitter tears from his face.

"What?" Jenny asked.

"I should have protected her. I should have told her to get off the train at the first train stop out of Union City and go home. It was too dangerous."

"Do you really think she would have listened to you?" Jenny said. "Elizabeth had a mind of her own, and nobody would dissuade her once she set her mind to something, not even Lucas."

Bill remained silent.

"But we were in control of this investigation. We should have forced her. I should have forced her to go home."

"We can all think of things we think we 'should have' done," Jenny replied. "It won't bring her back."

Jeanette shook her head. "Jenny's right. We need to focus on what we can do in order to make sure Dixon never strikes again and then upon what's best for the son she left behind."

Nathan closed his eyes and bowed his head. Little Jack. That precious little boy who grew up without his father was now bereft of both father and mother in one dark moment. "I'll have to tell the Coulters."

Bill shook his head. "I can tell Abigail and her parents."

"Have you spoken with your parents yet?" Jeanette asked Jenny.

"No. I was waiting to hear more from the doctor."

"Bouchard family?" a short, bespectacled doctor named Simon Shapiro said, entering the area as if on cue.

"I'm Lucas's sister," Jenny answered, standing. Nathan stood to his feet as well.

"Can you come with me? All of you?

Jenny nodded and followed the physician into Lucas's room, where he had been changed out of his blood-stained clothes, which were taken to the hotel laundry room and into a hospital gown. He appeared to be resting.

"How is he?" Jenny asked.

The doctor looked up at Nathan, who stood directly behind her then looked into her eyes. "Your brother remembers nothing, and when I say nothing, I mean nothing. He doesn't know where he is or what year it is, or even his own name. It's a condition known as psychogenic amnesia, a form of dissociation. I understand that he has a history of episodes like this?"

"Only once," Jenny said. "It happened recently when he ran into a man who had separated us from each other. I had been kidnapped, and Lucas thought I had been killed. He blacked out with rage when he saw the man who did it."

"I see," Shapiro said. "And he came back to his senses?"

"Yes," she said. "Completely."

"He'll come out of this too, won't he, doc?" Nathan asked.

"It's impossible to know," the doctor replied. "But generally, yes. His mind developed this coping mechanism when faced with extreme stress, and once a mind learns that practice, it becomes much more likely that it will happen again. He very well could snap out of it, could be days, could be weeks, or it may even take years."

"Or it may never happen," Jeanette said.

"That, too, is a possibility," Shapiro replied. "We just don't know. But for now, we are to treat him gingerly. Don't say anything to remind him of the events of the day, but slowly coax him along to try to get him to recognize who he is and what your relationship with him is. You may have to remind him several times. But as the nerve centers settle down, he should begin to retain what you're saying to him and, hopefully, recall some of the things from his past."

Jenny nodded. "May I try to talk with him?"

"Certainly."

Walking across the room, Jenny Bouchard stood by Lucas's bedside. Nathan immediately grabbed her a chair so that she could sit, and she nodded appreciatively his way. She leaned over her brother's bed.

"Lucas? Lucas, dear, wake up."

Lucas opened his eyes and looked at Jenny. "Hello."

"Hi. How are you feeling?"

Bouchard considered her question for just a moment. "Thirsty. Where am I?"

She looked at the doctor and then back to Lucas. "You're at the hospital. You've had a great shock."

"Are you my nurse?" he asked.

Jenny swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head, tears beginning to gather in her eyes. "No, Lucas. I'm your sister, your sister Jenny. Don't you remember me?"

Bouchard studied her closely, then shook his head. "I don't believe we've met."

Now, Jenny began to cry. "Of course, we've met, Lucas. We grew up together – at least for a while. We were best friends. And we've recently been reunited. You have to remember. You must!"

Lucas reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry. But I don't. Would you get the nurse? I would like a glass of water."

Jenny tried to smile, even as she brushed away her tears, remembering what the doctor said. Treat him gingerly. Coax him along. She just needed to be patient. "I will find her. You rest."

Jenny stood and then looked at Nathan with heartbroken eyes, then left the room. Grant and Avery followed after her, and Nathan tried to provide her some comfort.

"Dixon's destroyed him," she cried. "Will I ever see my Lucas again?"

Just then, Cantrell entered the ER from outside, making his way to the party. "They think they know where he is," he said.

"Dixon?" Avery asked.

"Yes. He has a sister who lives out in the bayou. A neighbor heard about the all-points bulletin and phoned the station, saying he believes Dixon has holed up there. We have a couple of squad cars going there now."

"I'm going too," Nathan said, moving toward the door.

"Not your jurisdiction, Constable Grant," Cantrell said.

"You weren't opposed to me helping at the saloon."

"That was before a woman was killed. The mayor…."

"The mayor can jump off a bridge. I need you to deputize me. Make it my jurisdiction. I couldn't protect Elizabeth from Dixon's grasp. At least I can avenge her death."

"They'll want him to be brought in alive," Cantrell said, "If possible."

"Yeah, well, some things just aren't possible."

Cantrell looked at Nathan and nodded. "Fine. You are hereby deputized."

"Me too," Bill replied to Cantrell's surprise.

"Okay. You too," Cantrell replied. "Let's not stand around wasting time. I'll pull my car up out front."

The captain exited, and Jenny rushed to Nathan. "Nathan, be careful."

He faced Jenny and then kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "I will be. Wait for me and pray."

"I will," she smiled.

"You be careful too, Bill," Jeanette replied.

"Don't you worry about me," Avery responded. He looked to Nathan, and the two men left the room.

Jenny bowed her head. "Dear Lord, keep them safe and let them find Amos Dixon tonight and make sure that he never hurts another soul. In Jesus' name, I pray, Amen."

"Amen," Jeanette echoed from beside her.

"You know, you really need to learn how to drive."

The words were spoken by Bill, who had remained silent during the trip to find Dixon on the outskirts of New Orleans - until this moment.

"Someone has to read the map." Nathan could tell his friend was grieving Elizabeth's loss and couldn't fathom a future without the beautiful schoolteacher in it himself. And yet, Avery tried to put on a strong appearance as they pulled up in Cantrell's police car in front of the small house. As they did, they observed that there were a couple of policemen walking around casually out front yard, which to both men looked like bad news. Glancing at each other, they exited the car.

"Did you get him? Is he here?" Bill said, even before Cantrell could assess the situation.

Nathan's heart tightened as he heard the hope in Bill's voice.

"No, sir. He must have sensed we would come and left before we arrived."

The profanity that came from Bill's mouth caused Nathan to raise an eyebrow, but he remained silent.

"We think he is headed back to the city in his sister's car after leaving a stolen one here," the officer continued, pointing at a beat-up car with peeling paint. "I am sure he is hoping to get lost in the big city crowd. We have the make and model of her vehicle, but she also informed us that it won't get him far- the fuel pump needs replacing."

"Are you certain he went that way?" Nathan asked before Bill could.

"Fairly certain, but we are sending a few cars in the other direction as well, just in case."

"Give me a description of the car," Bill demanded, listening and memorizing the plate number. Avery walked quickly over to Dixon's stolen vehicle and opened the door. "Come on, Nathan. We need to get going."

Cantrell, who had been busy talking with a younger cop, turned his head. "Hey, Judge Avery…you just can't take that stolen car."

"I'm returning it," Bill replied. "After I make a stop or two."

A hospital intern quietly walked into the hospital room carrying a suit and shirt on a couple of hangers. Looking around, he saw the patient lying on his side, his face turned the other way, and he assumed Lucas was asleep. Trying not to wake him, he silently placed the clothing on the bar in the small alcove, took another glance at the patient, and then left as soundlessly as he had entered.

Moments later, Lucas rolled over, looked around at his room, and noticed there were now clothes hanging in the small closet area. Confused as to where he was and what he was doing there, he threw off the covers and got out of bed. Yawning as he walked across the floor, he looked out the hospital window at the start of the new morning beginning. It all looked so foreign to him. What was he doing there? Who was he?

Looking down at his bare legs, Bouchard reached toward the cubbyhole, carefully removed the hangers, and began to dress.

Looking over at Bill, Nathan saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped the steering wheel of the stolen car. His face was as rigid as granite, and Nathan wished he could say something, anything, to help the situation. But what could he say? There was nothing. Nothing would heal the hurt the judge was feeling, that he himself was feeling. Only time would make it bearable. Thinking of their great loss, Nathan tried to swallow a lump that had formed in his throat.

"There," Bill suddenly said, pointing up ahead to the left.

Looking in the direction he indicated, Grant saw a car with the description they had been given. When they neared, the license plate was a match. Dixon had obviously abandoned the car quickly, as the driver's side door was left open.

The men glanced around as Bill put the car in park, cautiously exiting. "Bill! Look!" Nathan said, causing Avery's head to turn and see the man they were seeking.

Avery smiled a steely smile. "Looks like we have a gutter rat. Dixon!" Bill called out. "Stop! Turn yourself in!"

Amos had just removed a manhole cover when he heard the judge cry out. "Never!" Amos retorted loudly, pulling out his gun and shooting three shots in their direction before disappearing into the darkness below ground.

Nathan flinched and grabbed his right hand as one of the shots hit its mark. Everything happened so fast neither man had time to draw their weapons before Dixon was gone.

"Is it bad?" a concerned Avery asked, torn between helping his friend and chasing after Elizabeth's killer.

"Not terrible," Nathan replied as he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, wrapping it around his injured hand with a grimace.

"Stay here."

"No. I need to come with you."

"You would only be a liability with that injured hand. Send the police down when they get here. The shots should bring them this way."

Nathan nodded. "Go. Go get him - for Elizabeth." Avery began to exit the car, but Grant reached out his uninjured hand. "And Bill- be careful."

With a silent nod and Grant's encouragement, Avery stood and headed for the manhole, thankful that it was now morning so he would have some light when he went underground.

When he reached the hole, he looked into the shadows below before lowering his body into the darkness. Knowing his back was exposed, Bill quickly descended the ladder, hoping Dixon wasn't waiting to ambush him. He was thankful when he reached the bottom unscathed.

Drawing his weapon, he stood for a moment, trying to let his eyes adjust. He knew he was vulnerable until he could see better and quickly moved away from the bright sunlight streaming into the cavern.

"Dixon! You're trapped! Give yourself up!" Bill called out as he moved forward deeper into the drainage area, walking through a stream of putrid-smelling water as he went. As he moved and his eyes adjusted a glimmer of daylight reflected off the walls, revealing the walls were moving. He stiffened only slightly as he continued to proceed. Normally, the cockroaches would have disgusted him, but somehow, their presence seemed like fitting company for when Dixon met his end.

Suddenly, a shot rang out; Avery ducked as he heard the bullet whiz by his right ear. Another shot, another miss. Was that four shots? Or five? he wondered, aware that it was too dark for Dixon to be able to reload easily.

Knowing he should be scared, Bill felt no fear, only anger. Amos had taken so much from so many when he fired that shot yesterday, and Avery was going to see that he would pay.

Following the direction of the shots, he continued moving forward. "I'm coming for you, Dixon!" Bill hollered as he rounded a corner.

"You won't take me alive!" was the loud reply.

"That's what I'm counting on," Bill breathed through his wrath, maintaining his movement toward the voice.

Quickly rounding another corner, a shot echoed but went wide left of its intended target. Bill could now see that Dixon had backed himself into a dead end and soon heard the click of an empty gun. Avery smirked.

Throwing his useless weapon to the ground, Amos grinned stupidly at Bill in the dimness. "You're a lawman," he said with a nervous laugh as he raised his hands. "You won't shoot an unarmed man."

"Won't I?" Bill replied, wasting no time in pulling the trigger and then hearing Dixon call out in pain as he once more pulled the hammer back. "That one was for Lucas, whose life you shattered today."

"Well, you ain't any better than I am then, are you?" the murderer said.

The second shot again hit its mark, jerking Amos to the side as he grabbed his shoulder. "And that one was for Nathan." Bill's aim was slow and deliberate. "Elizabeth was his, and his daughter's special friend, and you took her from them."

Avery was as a man possessed as he continued his forward movement, knowing how this was going to end as he heard the approaching sirens above.

"You'll never get away with this," Amos said through a demented laugh. "Was that pretty little Mrs. Thornton worth you killing an unarmed man?"

Bill's eyes turned red as he frowned and took in a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

"Don't you ever say her name, you son of a –" The third discharged bullet echoed once again through the hollow chamber, his adversary taking that round in the chest. The impact knocked Amos Dixon against the wall.

"That one was for Little Jack, her son, who you left an orphan yesterday." Bill's voice cracked as he spoke his godson's name, firing his fourth shot into Dixon, whose eyes were starting to grow glassy as he slid to the floor, struggling to breathe.

"This one is for Hope Valley. The school children and the lives she touched. It will never be the same without her." Another shot, another hole in Amos's chest. By this time, Avery was standing over Dixon's motionless body, tears rolling down the judge's cheeks.

"And this one is for me," he said through his tears, calmly and quietly. "You took away the only daughter I ever had." One more resound, and the cavern was silent save for the drip, drip, drip of groundwater descending from above and the heavy breathing of the avenger standing over Dixon's lifeless form below. Dropping his arm down to his side, Avery turned to go, not looking back.

The police took a few moments to question Bill and Nathan while an ambulance worker tended to Grant's hand. Once it was determined that Amos's gun was empty, the police let them go- calling it self-defense. They asked the two to come by the station to fill out the proper paperwork later and then sent them on their way.

As the two rode to the hospital, they did so in silence, both sharing common emotions that mere words could not express. When they entered the building, they immediately went down the hall to Lucas's room. Nathan needed further treatment for his hand but wanted to check on Jenny first and let her know about Dixon. But as they drew near the room, they stopped – hearing a commotion.

"What do you mean you've lost him? I wasn't gone that long," Jenny's agitated voice rang through the hallway.

Hurrying the rest of the way, Nathan turned Jenny towards him. "What's happening?"

"I went to get something to eat and while I was gone, Lucas has disappeared! They are searching for him in the hospital now, but I don't understand how this could happen."

"This makes no sense. Who was supposed to be watching him?" Grant replied.

"Sir, we can assure you, we are looking everywhere we can."

"Nathan, your hand..." Jenny said as she saw the blood-soaked handkerchief.

"Just a scratch. Listen," he said, pulling Jenny close and holding her with his left hand. "Don't worry now. I'll be okay, and so will Lucas. We'll find him. I promise. We will."

"You need a ride?" the taxi driver said to the handsome young man wandering aimlessly around the city. Lucas was looking up at the buildings and didn't seem to hear him, so he spoke louder. "Hey, buddy!"

Immediately, Lucas's eyes turned his way, and he looked confused.

"I asked if you needed a ride."

Bouchard didn't' say a word but simply got into the car, sitting quietly in his seat as the cabbie took off.

"Where to?" he asked.

Lucas took some time to answer, then thought perhaps if they drove around a bit, he might recognize something. "Just drive."

The man nodded. "Okay. Your dime. Where are you from?"

Lucas thought about it briefly. He truly didn't know. "Here and there."

"Ah, a mystery man. I get it. You don't like folks bein' nosey. I can respect that."

The man turned onto Loyola, and Lucas felt a slight recognition, neither good nor bad, but it was fleeting. He continued to take in the sights.

"You need to tell me where we are going. Driving you around town is going to cost you a bundle."

Sitting in the back seat, Lucas reached in his jacket, pocked and pulled out his wallet where he kept no ID. Only cash. He thumbed through his money to count it and then placed it back in his pocket, looking up just in time to see a sign to Union Station. Trains. He knew he liked Trains.

"I would like to go to Union Station."

"Union Station? Okay. We can do that. You takin' a trip?"

"Yes. I believe so."

"You believe so?" the man asked. "Where you goin'?"

Stopping at a traffic light, Lucas focused on a newsstand just across the street where there were papers from around the world. He watched as a man purchased a paper and, with a smile on his face, pointed out a story on the cover. He couldn't read what it said, but he did see the name of the paper.

"Buddy? You gonna answer me?" he cabby asked, wondering if Lucas was okay.

"New York City," Bouchard replied, sitting up tall and straightening his jacket. "I want to go to New York City."

"Now we're talking. That's where I grew up. The train leaves at noon."

Authors' Note: We realize this chapter was a hard one to read as it was a hard one for us to write. We will address our creative choices in the next chapter, if you are still with us. We are protective of our Lucas, who still has good days ahead. To Be Continued...