The bank robber was in his sixties. Dash would’ve been like a son to him. And then Novak’s son had married his underage daughter.

“We were on a beach,” Dash told the girls, contradicting his high school story. “Your mother was walking along the water. The waves were lapping at her feet. The sun was behind her, and I thought it made her look like she was wearing a halo.” He winked at Sara. “She hasn’t taken it off since.”

Sara swallowed what felt like a mouthful of glass. She asked Dash, “I’d like to go to the bunkhouse, if that’s okay?”

Gwen’s spoon dropped onto her plate with a loud clatter.

“That’s fine, Dr. Earnshaw.” Dash looked at Gwen as he spoke. “Joy, escort Dr. Earnshaw, please. Your mother and I have to talk through the plans for tonight’s celebration.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Joy led the way to the bunkhouse, her head down, her eyes on her feet. Sara kept a few paces behind her. She felt disgusted by her own behavior. Gwen was fair game, but her daughters were innocent. Sara was not normally the type of person who deliberately hurt other people. Then again, she was not the sort of doctor who wished her patients dead.

Which was no excuse for what had just happened. Sara thought about how to apologize to Joy. Of all the children, she would’ve been hyper aware of the implications.

Before Sara could get a word out, Joy mumbled, “She’s worried.”

Sara guessed she was referring to Gwen. “About Adriel?”

Joy shook her head, but didn’t explain further.

“You know,” Sara said. “I just realized that Benjamin is the only little boy I’ve seen on this side of the Camp. Are there more on the other side?”

“Some little ones.” Joy was still keeping her voice low, though no one was close by. “Daddy sends them away when they turn twelve.”

Sara nodded, her heart pounding, because she could think of only one reason why a grown man would send away all of the boys before they reached the age of puberty.

He didn’t want the competition.

Sara asked, “Do you know where they go?”

“Arizona, so they can train for the war.”

Arizona. All the pieces that put Martin Novak into the frame were falling into place. Sara prayed that Will and Faith were finding the same clues. The bank robber was in custody, looking at spending the rest of his life in prison. If there was a deal to be made, now was the time.

Joy stopped at the sink outside the bunkhouse. She turned on the water for Sara. “Are they going to die?”

Sara understood she was talking about the eleven children in the bunkhouse. “I haven’t figured out what’s wrong, but I’m working on it.”

Joy started to speak, but her face contorted in pain. She pressed her hand to her stomach. She leaned back against the shower stall. “My tummy hurts.”

“Is it your period?”

She blushed the shade of a tomato.

“Sweetie, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s natural. It’s terrible, but it’s natural.” She rubbed Joy’s arm, trying to get a response. “I can give you some Advil for the pain.”

“It’s not—” The sentence was interrupted by a torrent of vomit flooding out of her mouth.

Sara jumped away, but not quickly enough to save her shoes. She looked toward the picnic table for Gwen, but the girl’s mother was angrily dressing down one of the cooking women. The younger girls sat at the table with their heads bowed, trying to disappear into the scenery.

“Let’s go inside.” Sara helped Joy up the stairs. The bunkhouse was empty but for the sick children. Sara wondered where the three women had gone. She supposed they had taken their lunch breaks. The timing could work out for Sara. Joy was old enough to notice what was going on inside of the Camp.

“Here.” Sara helped Joy climb onto an empty cot. She asked, “Can you tell me what’s hurting?”

Joy clutched her stomach in response.

Sara took the girl’s blood pressure, which was low, and her temperature, which was normal. She listened to Joy’s chest and bowels. She checked her pupils. The girl could barely keep her eyes open. Her throat clicked as she tried to swallow.

Sara asked, “Did you have the measles before?”

She nodded.

“I’ll be right back.” Sara found a pitcher of water and filled a glass. She glanced around the room. Most of the children were sleeping. The ones who were awake watched her carefully.

Joy tried to sit up, but dizziness immediately pulled her down to the bed. Sara helped her drink from the glass. Her jaw kept clenching in pain. Her hand was still clutching her stomach.

There were several tests that Sara could order in any hospital that would likely tell her what was wrong with Joy, but none of them were currently at her disposal.

“Joy.” Sara sat down on the cot beside her. “I need you to talk to me.”

“I don’t—” Her tears started to fall in earnest. She was clearly scared. “I’m sorry I got sick on you.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t spinach. That’s the worst.”

Joy didn’t smile.

“How long have you been feeling bad?”

“Since . . .” She closed her eyes as another wave of pain shot through her belly. “Since last night.”

“You’re sure it’s not your period?”

She shook her head.

“Are you sexually active?”

Joy became a study in mortification. “I haven’t—I mean, I wouldn’t. No, ma’am. The boys aren’t allowed around us and Daddy—” She vehemently shook her head.

Sara had been lied to about sexual experience almost as many times as she’d been puked on. “I’m going to press down here, okay? Tell me if anything hurts.”

Joy watched Sara’s hands move around. She blushed furiously when the exam moved below her bikini line. There was no speculum to do a pelvic, and as much as Sara despised Gwen, she wasn’t going to perform one without the mother’s permission.

At least not for another half hour.

Ectopic pregnancy was always Sara’s first concern with a girl Joy’s age. Having experienced the same disastrous complication herself, she knew the consequences of not acting quickly. Appendicitis was a close second. Ovarian cyst. Bowel obstruction. Kidney stone. Twisted fallopian tube. Tumor. All would require diagnostic tools that Sara did not have, and surgery that she was in no position to perform. “I need to talk to your mother.”

“No!” Joy sat up, panicked. She grabbed onto Sara, lightheaded from the drop in her blood pressure. “Please, let me stay here for a minute. Please.”

She was scared of her mother, which made Sara scared for all of Gwen’s children.

“It’s all right.” Sara gently helped Joy lie down. “Has your mother hurt you, Joy?”

The girl’s eyes watered with tears. “She gets mad, is all. We don’t—sometimes we don’t do what we’re supposed to do, and that makes it harder for her. She has a lot of—a lot of responsibilities.”

Sara stroked the girl’s hair. “Has your father ever—”

“Am I—will I be all right?” Joy kept clutching her stomach. “Please, tell me. Why does it hurt so bad?”

Sara felt her pediatrician’s instincts ringing like an alarm. In any other setting, she would be on the phone to children’s services, making sure that Joy did not go back to her parents until there was a thorough investigation.

Unfortunately, Sara was not in a normal setting, and she had no ability to control anything but how she responded to this scared child.

She told Joy, “You probably ate something that didn’t agree with you.”

This was unlikely, as the girls all seemed to eat the same thing at every meal and only Joy was showing symptoms.

“Are you—” Joy was still terrified. “Are you sure?”

“I think what you need is some rest, and then you’ll feel better. Okay?”

Joy relaxed into the cot, eyes closed.

Guilt weighed on Sara. Normally, she would’ve been honest with a patient of Joy’s age. Sara would have told her that she wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was going to find out what was causing the problem and do everything she could to make it better. But this was not a normal situation and there was no way to find out what was wrong other than to wait for the bug to resolve or for more symptoms to appear.

Sara could at least make herself useful to the other children. She told Joy, “I’ll be over here, okay?”

“Michelle—” Joy looked like she wanted to grab the word and shove it back into her mouth.

Sara sat down on the cot. She tried to keep the desperation out of her tone. “Did you see her?”

“I—” Joy tried again. Her eyes closed. She turned her head away from Sara. “I’m sorry.”

Sara had crossed a lot of lines since being kidnapped, but this one felt different. The girl was scared. She knew something important, and she knew that telling Sara would get her into a great deal of trouble.

Sara said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Try to sleep.”

“She’s—” Joy stopped to swallow. “Behind the—behind here.”

Sara tried to measure her response. “In the glass house?”

Joy shook her head. “In the woods. Mama left her in the woods.”