The shovel hit wood.

Maribel nearly collapsed.

Nolan caught her elbow.

The little coffin was lifted.

The undertaker removed four rusted screws.

Nobody spoke.

The lid opened.

Maribel screamed.

There was no child inside.

Only two flour sacks wrapped in an old blanket.

For several seconds the world disappeared.

Then Maribel lunged forward.

“No!”

Nolan caught her.

“Matthew!”

She fought him with surprising strength.

“Where is my baby?”

The cemetery keeper crossed himself.

Nolan held Maribel until her knees stopped supporting her.

She turned toward him, wild-eyed.

“

My son didn’t die.

”

Nolan stared into the empty coffin.

Then something worse entered his expression.

“No.”

His voice was deadly calm.

“Someone wanted you to believe he did.”

They rode directly to Dr.

Vale’s surgery.

It was empty.

The drawers had been cleared.

The medicine cabinet stood open.

A fire burned in the stove.

Vale was gone.

But not everything had burned.

Nolan kicked apart the embers.

Maribel spotted a corner of leather beneath the coals.

Inside the half-burned ledger were names.

Dozens of them.

Children.

Mothers.

Dates.

Beside several names were dollar amounts.

$300.

$500.

$750.

Maribel felt nausea rise.

Then she found hers.

QUINN, MATTHEW — Male — viable.

Transfer delayed.

Her vision blurred.

“Nolan.”

He came beside her.

Then both saw another line.

PIERCE — Female — hold.

Footsteps sounded behind them.

They turned.

Ruth Mercer stood in the doorway.

The old midwife was crying.

“God forgive me.”

Maribel crossed the room and slapped her.

Ruth accepted it.

“Where is my son?”

“I don’t know.”

Maribel struck her again.

“WHERE IS HE?”

Nolan caught Maribel’s arm.

Ruth sank into a chair.

“Vale started years ago.

Women giving birth alone.

Poor families.

Widows.

Babies no one powerful would question.”

Maribel’s face twisted.

“My baby had a mother!”

“I know.”

“He had me!”

“I know!”

Ruth covered her face.

“He told us the children were going to families who could care for them.

Wealthy couples in Denver.

Kansas City.

St.

Louis.

He called it mercy.”

“He sold them.”

Ruth nodded.

“Yes.”

Maribel shook violently.

“And Matthew?”

“Vale gave him laudanum.

Enough to make him seem nearly dead.

You were exhausted.

Feverish.

He told you the child was gone.”

“Then what?”

“We took him.”

Maribel made a sound Nolan would remember until the day he died.

Not a scream.

Something deeper.

A mother’s grief reversing itself into rage.

“Where?”

“There’s a farmhouse north of Blackwater Creek.

Children waiting for transfer stay there.”

Nolan was already moving.

Ruth grabbed his coat.

“Wait.”

He turned.

“Vale knows you have the ledger.”

“How?”

“He came to me an hour ago.

He said Eleanor nearly ruined everything.”

Nolan’s expression became murderous.

“What did he do to my wife?”

Ruth looked down.

“He didn’t kill her.”

Nolan’s fists loosened slightly.