All she had to do was look at the tiny doll sitting by her jewelry box and she had her answer.

  This doll was not like the others. It fit in her hand, pose-able, and was part of a set. She opened the secret drawer of the vanity and looked at the other dolls in their cushion-lined compartments. These were different not only in size, but also in appearance. They were all still only as tall as a hand-span, but that was not the only thing that set them apart. Unlike the ones usually found in stores, even collectible ones, these were more romantic in nature. Along the lines of her favorite poets Byron and Shelley, they were dark and compelling. The styles were most definitely not something that would be smiled upon in polite society, but she enjoyed them.

  Taking one gently, she examined it.

  These were some of the first ones she had made. Still getting the feel of carving out figures, she was using wood blocks. They were crude, but that made them all the more special to her. Some people would say she should have started with large figures and worked to getting them smaller. It just seemed a waste of material to do it that way, especially when she could find blocks just about anywhere. Working with the sizes of those blocks was a challenge, hence why this set had tall and short pieces. She had been working on the soldier when she heard about the missing child story.

  She recalled that night at the diner with her beloved.

  Marcia watched James Miller as he tapped his drink, his thoughts obviously not at the fine eating establishment he had taken her to. He had just recently been taken off patrol and promoted to a desk job at the Station. At first she had been relieved. He would no longer be on the streets; he would be safely with the other officers and out of harm's way. It also did not hurt that there was the possibility of regular hours.

  Except that he was becoming more and more distracted lately.

  His work was not staying at the office, it was coming home.

  “Not hungry?” her voice sounded too loud in the quiet.

  He looked at her, gave a half-smile, and attempted to pull himself to the moment.

  “Sorry,” he straightened up. “This latest case...it is...difficult.”

  “Anything you can talk about?”

  “Not really,” he said sadly, running fingers through his dark red hair.

  She reached over to take his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

  He returned the gesture gratefully.

  “Tell you what,” she began, “let's eat our meals in a decadent fashion by occasionally tasting our meat from our knives, afterward take a proper walk in the park to find a nice patch of path were I can scandalize people by holding my skirt up to my ankles with both hands whilst I make my way around the lake's edge, and then you can walk me home and shock the neighbors by giving me a goodbye kiss.”

  He chuckled and pulled her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.

  She smiled at a few gasps she heard.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, Mr. J,” she said, enjoying his laugh at her improper use of his name. It was so fun to have someone who understood her disdain for some of the ridiculous rules of polite society.

  Naturally they would do nothing that would be too outrageous; he did have his position to think of. However, there were always private spots where they could misbehave and not worry about anyone seeing. It was absurd really. They were engaged, and should be allowed to show their affection. There was nothing wrong about having a fondness for the one who will be sharing your life, so why was there rules about how it could be expressed in public?

  Determined not to get irritated and ruin a good meal, she focused instead on helping him forget whatever was bothering him.

  When the story of the missing child was in the papers the next morning, she suspected this was it.

  Young Trisha Park has been missing since Wednesday afternoon. The 8-year-old girl was last seen in Robco Lake area around 4 o'clock in the afternoon. She and her parents were attending a church function with other families from their congregation. According to statements taken from Mr. and Mrs. Park and other attendees, she had been playing with the other children when she disappeared. Her absence was not noticed until it was time to gather for the evening meal. The children swore they had seen her not moments before the adults called. It appeared she was lost in the chaos of families reuniting. Anyone with any information on her whereabouts was encouraged to contact the police.

  It had gone on to describe the little girl and what she was last seen wearing. Marcia's heart had gone out to the parents. She could not imagine the pain they had to be enduring. Then Nora had added her own insight.

  “This is awful, that has to be the sixth child this year!”

  She looked up at the words. “Sixth?”

  They were sitting in the front receiving room. She had just finished reading the story to her roommate when the other spoke. At her question, the other woman nodded, stood, and crossed the room to her study behind it. She could hear rustling of papers as her friend searched for something. The brunette re-entered the front room with some newspaper clippings, which she handed over.

  Here were the other five. One had disappeared the about three months ago, two a few months ago, one last month, and one just last week. Which meant this was the second one this month.

  “See the pattern?” she asked.

  Marcia nodded. One, two, one, two. Why that pattern though? And why so many?

  “Notice how it says all those taken are between the ages of 6 and 8 years of age, and tell me what else you see.”

  She looked at the stories. Henry Black was a 6-year-old taken from the Mud Lake area, 7-year-old Hermoine Thorne and her 6-year-old brother Gregory taken from the Horn Lake area, Robin Starr was an 8-year-old taken from North Horn Lake, while 8-year-olds Jason Towne and Trisha Park, the most recent, were taken at Robco Lake. All had come from families with a good standing in the community. Part of the ever growing middle-class, the families were considered well-mannered and ideal citizens. There was no scandal associated with their names, and no evidence of foul play. They had simply vanished during group outings, most notably during a chaotic time of the afternoon.

  “It's along the Lakes,” the brunette was saying as she brought in tea. She had retrieved it while the blonde was reading. “Word has it that the savages have taken the children, but that is absurd. Surely a red-man would have been seen during these gatherings.”

  “It would have caused a stir,” she agreed as she accepted the offered cup.

  Nora took a delicate sip before speaking. “James has not said anything?”

  Marcia shook her head. “Nothing, but I knew something was wrong.”

  A nod. “The families are pretty upset, and are gathering support to call for action.”

  She sighed. That was not good. Alpika was a small community, where everyone literally knew everyone. It was a new settlement, just beginning to dig in its roots. Something like this could undo everything. It did no good to bring a family to a town where their children were apt to disappear without a trace. If this was not solved quickly, the supply wagons would undoubtedly be getting smaller.

  The supply wagons.

  Setting her tea down, Marcia looked closer at the locations of where the children had disappeared. Then she looked at the dates.

  “Nora?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “Where are my log books?”

  “In the sewing room.”

  “Get them for me, would you?”

  Puzzled but curious, the young woman quickly departed and walked down the hall to what was then the sewing room. She had already made a small name for herself as a seamstress, and was building a clientele in Alpika as well as the neighboring town of Horn Lake. She had hopes of extending that list beyond, but it was always wise to start small. Still, thinking about the supply trains, the possible loss of clients, and how she would have to adjust her orders had brought a detail to her attention. Something about those dates of the disappearances bothered her.

  She barely looked up as the books were handed to her, just opened them up to the latest logs in the past few months. The dates were lining up, and as they did she felt herself go cold. Each time a child disappeared coincided with the supply wagon coming into town. The drivers always had a bit of a layover, but when they left they took someone extra with them.

  “Good heavens.”

  Looking over her shoulder, her friend tried to see what had distressed her.

  She simply told her.

  “You have to tell James!”

  “I am pretty sure he and the other police know.”

  She watched the other woman deflate. The excitement of discovering a clue had been doused with that statement. It surprised her when a new look of determination erupted. “Then we find another clue. There is a pattern, there is a way, so now we try and find out who or even why.”

  “That will be difficult.”

  “But not impossible.”

  Her fingers drummed on the coffee table as she considered this. What if James didn't know? She would share what they had found, and then maybe he could share a little of what he knew. Nothing to jeopardize the search, but perhaps little tidbits that would help find those lost children.

  Ignoring the bad manners, her roommate poured more tea. “So, let's discuss the people on those wagons.”

  A quiet knock on the door pulled her out of her reverie.

  Quickly putting away the keepsake, Marcia rose and answered the door.

  Nora was grinning like the Cheshire Cat out of Wonderland.

  “Good meeting?” she quipped.

  “Very good,” came the answer, with an emphasis on 'very.' “Mr. Smith is from a collegiate in Memphis who are gathering resources to build a university.”

  She looked at her sidelong. “Isn't Memphis recovering from an epidemic?”

  “I am not being asked to go up now,” came the exasperated retort.

  She smiled knowingly at her friend. “So, he wants you to go with him to Memphis?”

  The response was a dismissive wave. “He is not a suitor, so behave,” though she did giggle. “It appears that some of the professors there have heard about me.”

  “I hope this is a good thing.”

  “It is!” She was near bursting with excitement. “Memphis is becoming a gateway from the East to the West. They expect a lot of immigration back and forth. Not everyone is going to speak English, and they need linguists.”

  Even as she shared her friend's delight, she also felt a pang. She and Nora had practically grown up together in Horn Lake, had moved here to Alpika with family to try and build a business in a new town. Both of their families quickly decided that perhaps the town was too small and too risky, but Nora and Marcia decided to brave the odds. With the promise to stay in touch, their families moved back to Horn Lake while they stayed. Marcia was doing well with her seamstress clients, but Nora was still struggling.

  And now it seemed like a golden opportunity had practically knocked on her door. While Marcia was happy for her, she was also a bit surprised at the pang of sadness. Until now, she had never thought they would be living in separate towns. Different houses, yes, but in the same town. A rather foolish thought, now that she had time to really consider it.

  She felt her forearm being squeezed, and looked up into the sympathetic gaze of her long-time friend.

  “I don't have to answer right away,” she said thickly. “I have been invited to think it over. Besides,” she looked a bit uncertain, “you still need me, right?”

  “Of course!” Marcia answered as she took the other's elbows and squeezed reassuringly. “After all, Jason Towne and Trisha Park are still out there.”

  The answering grin was like the sun rising.

  “When will James be here with the device?”

  “This evening at dinner, after he's had a chance to get the Doll away from Robin long enough to get it out. Once I have it, I can put it in Farr.”

  “Farr?”

  “The little knight.”

  Nora smiled. “Have you named the princess you just made?”

  “Ecaterina.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Let me change for dinner and, once James is here, we can discuss the plan.”

  Nodding enthusiastically, she turned to go downstairs. “A chaperone's work is never done.”

  Both laughed softly and got ready for the upcoming meeting.

  He arrived promptly at 5 o'clock, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

  Smiling brightly at her fiancé, Marcia accepted the flowers and invited him in.

  “What a day!” he exclaimed as he took off his hat and sat down heavily on the couch.

  “Bad?”

  “Not really,” he grinned at her, “but everyone is really curious as to how these Dolls keep showing up.”

  She laughed. “I would think they'd be grateful the children are returning.”

  “Oh they are,” he agreed. “It is just the outlandish stories they tell about the Dolls being alive and guiding them home at night.”

  “Have they said why they did not try to escape when the wagons came back?”

  “Same story each time,” he said grimly. “They were promised a chance to see their family if they kept quiet. Only it never happened.”

  “Has any one of them told you who took them?”

  He shook his head. “Still too afraid. But one did slip and say 'she,' so we know it was a woman.”

  “Goodness!” Nora exclaimed as she joined them. “How could a woman do something so terrible?”

  James made a helpless gesture, indicating he had no more clue than his fellow officers.

  “Well dinner is ready,” she continued. “So let's discuss this further while we eat.”

  The trio did not talk about the case right away. He was sure to ask Nora how her studies were doing and smiled when she told him about the possible position in Memphis. A familiar teasing light came to his eye.

  “It appears our little linguist is being seduced away,” he said to Marcia.

  She nodded. “I'm not so sure it is the opportunity as it is the young man who delivered the invitation.”

  “Already breaking hearts and hasn't even been there,” he shook his head sadly.

  “You two are horrible,” Nora admonished them, even through her own grin.

  “Speaking of break,” James interrupted the word play and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a linen wrapped item. “I think this might need a little repair.”

  “What happened?” Marcia asked as she retrieved it and unwrapped it.

  “Not sure,” he answered. “Little Robin was saying the Doll was acting strange just as they got to the way-station. Like it was sick, wobbly and not standing upright.”

  She stood and took it to an oil-lamp where she could look at it more closely. After a few moments, she sighed with relief. “There is dirt in the gears. I must not have cleaned it properly before inserting it.”

  The other two relaxed in their seats. “So nothing that cannot be fixed,” Nora breathed. “Good.”

  “How long will it take to clean it?” James inquired.

  “Not long,” she assured them. “Little Farr should be up and ready for action by dinner time tomorrow.”

  “Farr?”

  “The name she picked for the little knight she is sending out.”

  “Knight?” he smiled again. “As in armor and lances?”

  “No armor,” Marcia corrected him. “They wore garb when not in a tournament or battle.”

  James looked disappointed.

  “Maybe you will like the princess better,” Nora added. “She is wearing a nice flowing gown.”

  He made a face. “Too fancy for me.”

  The friends laughed and continued to eat. Once the meal was done and the women had cleaned up, they met in Nora's study where they could talk in private. James still could not share many details about the kidnappings with them, but when the children had begun to reappear he had been able get the clockwork brain back to Marcia so she could send the next Doll out.

  “It is still hard to believe that there is someone on those supply wagons who is stealing children,” the brunette said as she took her place at her desk. She laid out the newspaper clippings in front of her, starting with the ones about the disappearances and ending with the articles about their reappearances. She added the newest one on Robin Starr to the collection.

  “It is not that hard for me,” James countered as he sat in a chair. “What I find fantastic is Marcia's Dolls being able to bring these children home.”

  The blonde did not answer since she was busy trying to clean the gears of the clockwork brain.

  “We all help with that,” Nora reminded him.

  “I suppose,” he agreed. “It is still incredible that my hobby of tinkering managed to put together something that has been this useful.”

  She smiled. “Between you building the brains, me providing the material, and Marcia inserting it into her delightful Dolls, we have made a great team!”

  “A team you might be breaking up,” the doll-maker quipped.

  She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Nothing is decided, and it could be a good move for me. After all, with all your success, surely James will be more inclined to share tips he has with you.”

  That prompted the couple to look at her, and then at each other.

  Marcia cleared her throat, though she did look pleased at the idea. “There are two children left, and I want to send out the pair again.”

  “You sure about that?” he looked uncomfortable.

  “I realize that it is hard to get two devices out with everyone watching...”

  “That is an understatement,” he growled. “I was almost caught when the siblings were brought in.”