“Yes.”

That had been enough to start her on her night journey.

Marion steadied herself and took another look at the person who was standing on the other side of the door. With calmer eyes, she realized the shape was too small to be one of the soldiers. It had to be one of the children from upstairs. The form shifted against the wall, turning toward the back and allowing the light from outside to play across the child’s face.

Dominique. Of course.

Marion pulled the curtain open a little more, then whispered, “Dominique. C’est moi. Mademoiselle Dupuis.”

Dominique didn’t even jump. “I heard you come in,” she said in French. “Frau Roslyn sent me to wait for you.”

Marion leaned her head through the opening. “Where is she?”

“With the soldiers.” Dominique pointed above them. “You stay. I will get her.”

“I should come with you.”

The girl shook her head several times. “No. She doesn’t want them to see you. Wait. It will only take me a minute.”

The girl turned and ran off before Marion could say anything more. Not sure what else to do, Marion pulled her head back into the kitchen and let the drape close over the opening. She tried not to think of anything, but her mind wouldn’t let that happen.

Iris. Why would they want her?

The girl had been left at Roslyn’s Place only a week before. Not a baby, but no more than four or five. Iris couldn’t tell anyone how old she was. It wasn’t just that she didn’t know; she had no concept of age and probably never would. She’d been born with Down syndrome and would forever need the help of others to survive. What tears had been on the girl’s cheeks when they found her soon disappeared in smiles and laughter as Frau Roslyn and the other children welcomed her into their family.

Marion could hear someone enter the dining room. She gripped the Taser tightly in her hand, ready in case the new arrival was not a friend. But when the curtain was pulled aside, Marion relaxed. It was Roslyn.