Or maybe to keep me in.

No, the bars looked too old. The cabin had been sealed shut a long time ago to keep robbers or animals from entering while it was vacant. The only way out was probably through the front door.

A knock startled me and I spun around.

“Eden?”

“Yes?” I slid back onto the bed.

The door opened and Wyatt stood there, smiling awkwardly. “You’re up. Did you sleep well?”

I blinked at him, wondering if he could tell by the guilty look on my face that I’d just tried to climb out the window.

“Yes.”

“That’s good. Are you hungry? I made up some eggs and bacon. You like eggs?”

It felt strange, him asking me the kinds of questions someone would ask if nothing at all was out of place.

“Yes.”

“I thought you would. Want to come eat?”

I was too nervous to be hungry, but I saw no choice but to follow him into the main room. An old brown sofa and two wooden chairs sat around a large crate in front of a fireplace on the left; the kitchen and a small table stood on the right.

“Go on, sit at the table.”

I crossed to it, carefully pulled out one of the chairs, and sat with my hands in my lap.

He set in front of me a green metal plate loaded with more scrambled eggs than I could eat. Five strips of bacon. Then he carefully laid an aluminum fork to the right of the plate and finished the setting off with a glass of milk. His hands were thick and his nails could have used a cleaning, but he moved with care, as if he was performing a very special task for a queen.

He beamed at me, proud of his accomplishment. Maybe fixing breakfast wasn’t so common for him.

Wyatt sat across from me and put his hands on the table, palms down. “Go ahead and eat. I’ve already had mine.”

I stared down at the large helping. “I don’t think I can eat all of this.”

He smiled. “I guess I did overdo it a bit. You eat as little or as much as you want. It’s okay, we’re only gonna be here three days and I have plenty to last us that long.”

“Three days?” I looked around, unnerved by the idea of spending so much time away from John and Louise. But it could be much longer than that.

He looked at me sympathetically, then nodded. “I’m sure you have lots of questions. You have no idea how much trouble we went to, tracking you down and rescuing you. We’ve been looking for years. It was Zeke who finally found you—contact of his came across your name a couple months ago. Alice Ringwald. But that’s not the name your mother gave you. She named you Eden, because you’re the place of perfect new beginnings,” he patted his chest, “in here, where it counts.”

I didn’t know how much to believe, but not knowing my own past, I had no reason not to believe anything he said either. Which only meant that I didn’t know what to think.

“Go ahead, sweetheart—you can ask me anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. I’ll tell you everything.”

________________________

WHILE ALICE searched her mind for the right questions to ask the man who’d taken her, Special Agent Olivia Strauss sat at her desk in Columbia’s FBI station, reading through the thin adoption file yet again.

Far too thin. Why were the details regarding Alice’s past so scarce? Still no call from the orphanage she’d left to join the Clarks. Evidence was being gathered, processed, and quickly compiled, but the whys and motivations behind abductions were the real case breakers. Whys led to who.

And who was what they needed to know. Who had taken Alice?

Her phone buzzed and she snatched it up. “Strauss.”

“I tracked down your guy. Andrew DeVoss, from Saint Thomas Orphanage. Line two.”

“Thank you.”

She punched up the line.

“Mr. DeVoss?”

“Please, call me Andrew.”

“Andrew. This is Olivia Strauss, special agent in charge of an active missing-persons case involving a child who left your orphanage a few months ago.”

“Oh my,” he said. “Who?”

“Alice Ringwald.”

There was a brief moment of silence. “Oh, no.”

“We’ve pulled our best resources, but I’ve run into a snag. I’m hoping you can answer a few questions for me.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“What can you tell me about Alice’s history? We suspect that someone from her past, possibly a close relative, is involved in the abduction.”

The phone went silent.

“Andrew?”

“She’s . . . Oh my . . .”

“What is it?”

“You must find her!”

His intensity surprised her.

“We’re trying. But to do that I need to know who from her past might have had any reason to take her.”

“No, no, it’s not that. She has no past outside of the orphanage.”

“She had a birth mother and a birth father.”

“Yes. Her father was James Paul Ringwald—”

“The congressman who was killed in the plane crash a few years ago?”

“Yes. He had an affair with a woman right before his presidential bid. When he discovered she was pregnant he cut her out of his life. Several years later, she committed suicide.”

“What was her name?”

“Catherine Miller. But you see, they’ve both passed. As to Alice’s missing years . . . I doubt any information I could give you would help you find her.”

“It’s my job to determine what information will help us. If I’m going to find her, I have to know more about her past.”

“It’s just that . . .”

“It’s just what?”

She heard him take a deep breath.

“This is very sensitive information, you understand. No one must know, for Alice’s sake as well as the others.”

“What others?”

“The other children. Promise me that what I tell you goes no further.”

She thought about his request.

“I have to file—”

“No files. Just you. Promise me.”

“Okay. Just me.”

“I can trust you?”

“You have my word.”

Another short pause.

“A project was established in the Colorado mountains. Thirteen years ago, thirty-six orphans were legally adopted by a classified orphanage, totally isolated from the rest of the world. I’m not at liberty to reveal any specific details about the location or the project . . . It’s best for the children, and there’s nothing there that would help you find her.”

She doubted that.

“Then tell me something that will help. What happened at this orphanage?”

“You should know that Alice isn’t just any girl. She, like the others, is quite special.”

Special. Alice is a very special girl . . .

“What do you mean?”

“Before the project was shut down, some of the children were able to affect the world in ways bordering on the paranormal. Some of it got out of hand, but it was all self-contained. It was why the project was shut down, you understand? Fortunately, none of the children has any memory of their years at the monastery.”

“Monastery?”

“The orphanage was located in an ancient monastery.”

“How did they lose their memory?”

He hesitated.

“They were exposed to a substance that had some side effects, one of which was to eliminate memory. It was the only way they could be reintegrated into society.”

“What kind of substance?”

“A poison of sorts, produced by an extremely rare species of worm. It’s no longer of relevance. Either way, you must find Alice. Beyond this, I’m afraid I can be of no further assistance.”

“What about the other children? Isn’t it possible that someone who worked with them is now targeting all of them?”

“Highly unlikely. We have our ways of monitoring them.”

“Ways that obviously failed Alice.”

He didn’t respond. So she pressed.

“It could happen again.”

“That’s our concern. Yours is to find her.”

“That’s not enough.”

“And yet it has to be.” He paused. “Find her, Agent Strauss. Find her quickly.”