To cap the grotesque dream quality of her day, the young woman Kate had loved like another niece was driving.
Maeve was with 1740.
Kate’s heart had been pounding with shock and heartbreak ever since Maeve had stepped out of the shadows in Fernando Harris’s studio. They hadn’t been alone, so Kate had so far been unable to look her straight in the eye. But she couldn’t hold the word, the question inside any longer, and she asked Maeve: “Why?”
She felt weak, as if the fight had taken everything out of her, and she wondered if she had actually said the word out loud. But she must have, because everyone in the car—except Maeve, at the wheel—turned their heads to look at her: Crispin, Suzanne on her right, and the girl she had never met before on her left.
“Why?” she asked again.
“Is that a rhetorical question, Kate?” Crispin asked. “Because I have an answer, but you wouldn’t understand it.”
“I’m not asking you, Crispin. I’m asking Maeve.”
Maeve didn’t reply. Kate could see that she was gripping the steering wheel tightly. Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, but as soon as they met Kate’s, they quickly looked back at the road.
“You can’t even look at me,” Kate said.
“Shhh,” Suzanne said, patting Kate’s knee, making Kate flinch. “Don’t make it worse.”
Kate wasn’t sure how it could be worse—except if they had gotten Sam too. But why had they taken Kate? Suzanne, Maeve, and the girl whose name Kate did not know were young—in their early twenties. Kate was twenty years older, certainly not the age that Crispin and the others seemed to target. And that question, like the wordwhy, spilled from Kate’s lips without her planning it.
“If Maeve won’t answer me, why don’t you tell me, Crispin?” she asked.
“It’s a club,” Suzanne said. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“That seems to be the party line,” Kate said, looking at her. “First Crispin, now you. What wouldn’t I understand?”
The girl on her left leaned close. “Don’t challenge them, just go along with it for now,” she whispered.
“What did you say, Caroline?” Maeve asked sharply.
“Caroline, you’re not permitted to speak to our guest,” Crispin said. “She’s not part of us. She’s not one of you.”
“What am I not part of?” Kate asked, focusing on Caroline’s wordsfor now. Had she meant that she knew they would get through this, to some sort of other side?
“The club,” Suzanne said.
“1740?” Kate asked.
“You know about that?” Suzanne asked.
“It’s hard not to. The number was on your truck, on the note you wrote and left on Jonathan Tyler’s grave. You gave yourself away.”
“It’s important to me,” Suzanne said.
“Was it important to your mother too?” Kate asked.
“My mother?” Suzanne asked.
“Belinda,” Kate said.
Suzanne tried to hide a smile but didn’t reply.
“1740 has to do with Dr. Tyler, doesn’t it? Your mother’s dead husband. Something that started with girls when they were patients at Maynard-King.”
“You don’t know anything,” Suzanne said.
Kate let that go. “Whenever it started, it’s centered aroundBeauty and the Beast.La Belle et la Bête.”
