Two days later, Adam helped Sissy down from the carriage in front of a small hotel in Charlottesville. It had taken two days of solid searching to locate the lawyer that had contacted his father. Though when Sissy heard his name, she had insisted he wasn’t the lawyer that had gotten her released, Adam had a feeling the man might still hold some of the answers they sought.

He led Sissy up the stairs and knocked on the door of Mr. J. Lexton’s room, then stepped back as a middle aged, balding man opened the door.

“Can I help you?” the man asked and then stopped when he laid eyes on Sissy. He started to close the door, but Adam reached out a hand to stop it.

“Mr. Lexton,” Adam said. “We don’t need much of your time. Just a few questions and we’ll be on our way.”

Adam walked right past the flustered man and into the room. Sissy stayed by Adam’s side, keeping her eyes on the lawyer.

“Do you recognize him?” Adam asked her.

Mr. Lexton, seeming to understand that his guests were not intending to leave, sighed and closed the door. He then answered Adam before Sissy had the chance. “Yes, she knows me. I was her lawyer for a short time, Mr. eh . . .”

“Cartwright,” Adam said, eliciting a gasp from the man who’d gone suddenly pale. “Adam Cartwright. Benjamin Cartwright is my father and the man that agreed to hire you.”

“Now, Mr. Cartwright, I never took any money from you father. Not a dime. I just had to . . . I, I mean I couldn’t. Well, I . . .”

“Yes?” Adam questioned.

Mr. Lexton’s eyes shot around the room nervously, until he finally stood up straight, jutted out his substantial belly, and looked Adam straight on. “I was forced to drop the case. But as I can clearly see, the young woman has managed just fine without me. Now, I’m very busy, and I must ask you to excuse me and let yourselves out.”

Adam could tell the man was intimidated, possibly even afraid, and he decided to gentle his demeanor. “Mr. Lexton, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you had done anything wrong. Sissy and I are just looking for information. She has a cousin, Meg Vandem, that has been missing since the night of Sissy, eh, Cecily’s incarceration. We were hoping you might be able to . . .”

Adam stopped at the frantic look that had come over the man’s face. “Do you know where she is?” he asked, taking a step toward him.

“P-Please,” the lawyer said, bringing out a handkerchief to mop his face. He then lowered his voice. “I don’t want to get involved.”

Adam drew himself up and exhaled deeply. “It sounds to me like you already are,” he said. “Who is it that has you so afraid? Is it Denton?”

The man’s eyes darted to the side, and Adam knew he had his answer.

“What did he do?” Adam questioned, taking a step nearer the man to accentuate each word. “Bribe you? Threaten you?”

“Yes. Yes!” Mr. Lexton shouted. “All that and more. I finally decided to call it quits when I came back after a weekend away to find my home burned to the ground. So, yes, Mr. Cartwright, call me a coward if you will, but I dropped the case.”

A stunned silence came over the room. Adam hadn’t thought his opinion of Denton could sink any lower, but to burn a man’s house to the ground . . . He clenched his fists tightly at his side before crossing them under his arms. It was Sissy who finally broke the silence.

“But,” she stared hesitantly, “what about the lawyer that got me released?”

Mr. Lexton turned his gaze to Sissy, and Adam watched as the corners of the man’s eyes softened.

“A young protégé of mine,” he answered. “He was working with me during the case. He decided to take it up again on his own.”

Adam’s brows drew together. “Wouldn’t Denton have threatened him, too?”

Mr. Lexton began to squirm, pulling anxiously at his tight collar. “Things . . . had changed by then.”

Adam was about to start demanding answers when Sissy gently laid a hand on his arm. She came up beside him and spoke gently to the nervous man.

“Please, Mr. Lexton, we’re not blaming you in anyway. All we want to do is find my cousin. If there’s anything at all you can tell us, it would mean so much, please?”

Mr. Lexton seemed taken aback by her soft pleas. He cleared his throat a few times and then crossed to his desk and retrieved a piece of paper. “Here,” he said, handing it to Sissy. “This is the address of Mr. Denton’s home. He can give you the answers you’re looking for.”

Adam felt Sissy stiffen beside him at the mention of visiting Denton, and he stepped closer to her, willing her his support.

“Although,” Mr. Lexton continued, “if you take my advice, you’ll let the matter rest.” He let his gaze fall on Sissy, and for a moment, Adam thought he saw a look of sympathy flash through the man’s eyes. “You won’t find anything there,” he gestured at the slip of paper, “but heartache.”

Adam saw the tears swim into Sissy’s eyes, and after a curt thank you to their unwilling host, he quickly led her from the room.

“What does he mean?” Sissy gasped as soon as the door had shut. “He can’t mean . . . She can’t . . .”

Adam reached out to steady her, and she fell into his arms. “Shh,” Adam said, gently rubbing her back. “We don’t know anything yet. Let’s take this one step at a time.”

Adam held her close until her breathing evened out. He struggled over whether or not to speak his thoughts allowed, but when she finally looked up at him, her eyes shadowed with misery, he felt he had to speak. “Sissy, are you sure? We don’t have to keep looking. You’re out of prison; you can start a new life . . .”

He stopped as she violently shook her head.

“No. We can’t stop now. I have to know . . . I have to know!”

She turned and fled down the stairs, and Adam hurried after her. She was already in the buggy by the time he caught up to her. During the seemingly endless ride back to the boarding house, he talked to her, tried to change her mind, hoping to spare her from any further pain, but she was adamant, and by the time they arrived, she was exhausted. After helping her inside, he arranged with Jenny to have her lunch brought to her room, then for over an hour, he paced outside, his mind torn between two difficult decisions. Should he and Sissy visit Denton? He thought about going without her—sparing her the pain—but deep inside, he knew she needed to see Denton; hear what he had to say with her own ears. The other decision warring inside his mind caused him pain with every passing thought. Should he look for their child? If what Sissy had said was correct, then the child had been adopted. Would the child know anything about its mother, certainly nothing of him? Stopping in mid stride, he cupped his hands behind his head and raised his eyes to the sky.

Help me.

A moment later, he was once again hitching up the buggy, and though he’d decided that it would best for Sissy to accompany him to see Denton, this trip he planned on keeping to himself.

He wasn’t sure where else to start but at the hospital closest to the prison. He took his time on the way back to Charlottesville, using most of the ride second guessing himself and trying to talk himself out of the search. Would it benefit anyone if he did find their child, and what if, by some chance the child hadn’t survived? That thought made him shudder and if nothing else, he became more confident in his decision not to bring Sissy.

Pulling up in front of the red bricked building formally known as a hospital, locally known for being more a dispensary, he tipped a young boy to look after his carriage and headed inside. The woman behind the front desk smiled at him, but she was much younger than anyone Adam was looking for. He introduced himself and started up a casual conversation. The young girl was only too happy to give him her attention, and in no time at all, he learned there were only two doctors still working in the hospital that would have been there fifteen years ago.

“Neither of them will remember anything about a baby being born though,” the girl informed him, batting her eyelashes coyly. “For that, you’d need to see the old midwife. She’s the one they called on back then.”

Thanking the young women, who looked more than a little put off by his sudden desire to leave, Adam set off once again. With the address provided, he found the little home on Jefferson Street where the woman was supposed to live, and taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

Fifteen minutes later, Adam accepted yet another cookie from the old woman and tried not to groan with impatience. He was sure this lady, with her many wrinkles and crooked cane, had been around to deliver the pilgrim’s children on their landing. He’d tried to get straight to the point, but she wouldn’t hear of having a chat until she’d served some tea and a plate of lemon cookies. She then waited until his mouth was full before she spoke.

“You’re looking for your child then?”

So she did hear me.

     “Yes, ma’am,” he said, swallowing in one big gulp. He filled her in once more on the details.

She sat silently when he’d finished, her lips pursed. Adam was almost ready to check if she was still breathing, but then she stirred.

“Oh, yes.” She nodded. “I remember her. Such a sad little creature. She had a rough time of it. Had to stay in bed for weeks before hand, and she almost died during the delivery.”

Adam’s heart beat was racing. “And the baby,” he said. “Do you remember what happened after that? Who it went to?”

Adam’s heart skidded to a stop when the woman’s lips turned down, and she slowly dropped her eyes.

“Don’t know,” she answered, without looking up.

“You, you don’t know . . . What do you mean you don’t know?”