“You can sit there,” Gabrielle said to Kate and Caroline, pointing at one of the sofas.
“Can you uncuff us?” Kate asked.
“Not right now,” Gabrielle said. “Darla will take care of that when she gets here.”
The elusive Darla. Apparently, she really did exist. Kate sat down next to Caroline. She gazed at the young woman’s hands, folded in her lap. The long sleeves of her white dress hid her arms and wrists, but Kate could see red marks under the cuffs of her sleeves. They were too old to have been made today, and she pictured the restraints she had seen onPsyche.
“Are you okay?” Kate asked Caroline quietly.
“It’s better you don’t talk,” Caroline whispered, her voice shaking. “You’ll get in trouble.”
“How much more trouble can I be in?” Kate asked.
Caroline’s uneasy silence let Kate know that there was plenty more.
Kate stared at Caroline’s wrists. She wanted to help her—get her salves, bandages, have her checked by a doctor to see if the wounds were infected. Kate had been an older sister, and although she didn’t have children of her own, loving and raising her niece had made her protective of any younger person. Caroline looked terrified.
“How old are you?” Kate asked.
“Twenty-one.”
“Were you onPsyche?” Kate asked, pointing at the raw, red circle around her wrist.
“How do you know about that?” Caroline asked.
“Because I saw the boat. I know that women were held there. They kept you there?”
“The boat is not long term. It is just a way-spot.”
“A way-spot?”
“They call it that. A stopping place to see if we’re worthy for the next step. They test us, determine which of us is a fighter ...”
“And the fighters don’t make it to the next step?”
“No, the opposite. They get rid of the meek ones, the ones who just give in.”
“What do they do with them?” Kate asked.
“They disappear,” Caroline said. “We don’t see them again.”
“How many of you are there?”
“No more than two or three at a time. Girl #1, Girl #2 ... Once they get to Girl #3, they start over. I am the most recent #3. They call us girls, never women. But there are lots of ‘graduates.’ Girls—women—who came before us.”
“What do they graduate from?” Kate asked.
“The Finishing School,” Caroline said.
“And what happens when you graduate?”
“You have the honor of becoming the latest Belle,” Caroline said, her voice breaking. She looked over at Kate with red-rimmed eyes. “Why are you here?”
“I’m trying to figure that out myself,” Kate said.
“It’s just that, most of the women they bring to the boat, and the houses, are younger than you. Around my age. They get us at the hospital. Were you a patient at Maynard-King, is that where they found you?” Caroline asked.
“No,” Kate said. “Is that where they found you?”
