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former salon was Curl Up and Dye. Mary couldn’t decide whether it was funny or sad.
    â€œWell, we’ve certainly narrowed it down. A young female student with long dark hair,” Faith said dejectedly.
    â€œIt does seem impossible,” Mary agreed.
    But Faith was nowhere near giving up.
    â€œDon’t say that. We’ve barely scratched the surface. What about the money? Where would a student come up with this kind of money? Have you counted it?”
    â€œThere’s fifty thousand dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills.”
    Faith’s mouth dropped open.
    â€œAs soon as I leave, you have to hide it. You should have done it already.”
    Mary nodded in agreement. “I have the perfect place. I’m going to—”
    â€œDon’t tell me. I don’t know why, but it’s better if just one of us knows.”
    â€œA student,” Mary mused. “Unless she comes from a very richfamily with ready access to a trust fund—and then maybe she would have bought more expensive baby clothes—there’s only one thing I can think of that brings in that kind of money for someone her age.”
    â€œDrugs?” Faith had been thinking the same thing since she’d first seen the stacks of bills. And these thoughts had taken her back to last Wednesday, back to the body in the sleigh. Was Christopher’s mother an addict like young Norah Taft? Another victim? The baby looked healthy—blooming with health—but what problems might await Mary further down the road?
    â€œI heard,” Mary said softly, “about your finding that girl…”
    Faith put her hand on Mary’s arm. “We have another girl to find now.”
    Christopher was awake. Mary realized he would want to be fed. It had amazed her to watch the way he moved from light to deep sleep to short periods of consciousness when he was hungry. She’d always thought it must be hard for her kids to leave a doe’s nice warm womb and it was obviously the same for babies.
    â€œI know you have to get going, but could you stay a few minutes more and give him a bottle while I check on the herd?”
    Faith picked up the baby, softly stroking his sleek dark hair. “My pleasure.”
    On the way to the barn, Mary chided herself. She’d been so wrapped up in Christopher, she’d been neglecting the nannies. They were such social creatures. Her old dog had died last spring and she hadn’t gotten around to getting another. The goats seemed to miss his visits—and the presence of the wild goose that had made a nest in their pen, laid her eggs, raised the goslings, and then vanished.
    She wasn’t worried that the herd would be cold. In their own inimitable way, they didn’t mind lower temperatures or snow, but they hated rain and hated drafts even more. She’d have to make sure no wind was getting through any chinks in the boards.
    When Mary returned, Faith gave Christopher’s chubby little cheek a last kiss and reluctantly relinquished him.
    â€œI wish I could stay,” she said. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can. And call me at the Marshalls’ if you need to.”
    The two women looked at each other. If Mary had to call for help, Faith knew it wouldn’t be for Dr. Spock–like advice. The scene in front of her could have illustrated his or any number of baby books. Mary was tightly swaddling the baby in a flannel blanket she’d made by cutting up one of her nightgowns. The rocker was waiting by the warm stove.
    But the something-wrong-with-this-picture was the mound of cash on the kitchen table. Cash that Faith had a strong feeling didn’t lawfully belong to Christopher’s mother. And the real owner wasn’t going to waste any time looking for it. Looking for it all over the great state of Maine.

C HAPTER 3
    Miriam opened her eyes and promptly closed them again. The sun streaming in through the broken window shade