Jennifer stepped on the brake and turned toward Kate.
“1740 is everything,” Jennifer said. She gave Kate a radiant smile, then drove away.
28
Monday, July 5; 5:00 p.m.
Conor had watched Kate coming down the hill from the hospital cemetery toward the Maynard-King dock. She was almost running; she seemed excited, as if she couldn’t wait to tell him some news.
She did have things to tell Conor and Tom, and it was a lot. Jennifer, the groundskeeper, had confirmed that Suzanne had left the note on Dr. Tyler’s grave. She had let it slip that Suzanne was Belinda’s daughter and then tried to take it back. And she had said “1740 is everything” when Kate had asked her about the date’s meaning.
“It’s all interesting,” Tom said when Kate had finished reporting on everything she had seen and heard at Tyler’s grave. “We have suspicions about this place, and now about this young woman—Jennifer—but what does it add up to?”
“Jennifer knew about Maeve—I’m sure of it,” Kate said. “And she knew our wedding was canceled.”
“But that doesn’t prove anything definitive,” Tom said.
“She knew about Suzanne. And she was secretive about it.”
“Another piece of the puzzle,” Conor said.
“We have plenty of pieces,” Tom said. “Now we need the whole picture on the front of the puzzle box.”
“She admitted that Suzanne did the calligraphy on the note. And she calls Belinda ‘Belle’ and says she came here. I felt ...” Conorwatched Kate pause and gather her thoughts. “I felt as if Jennifer has been through it—whatever is going on here. The other day, she asked if Sam was ‘one of us,’ ‘all the girls.’”
“She takes care of the cemetery?” Conor asked.
“Yes. I have the feeling she was a patient—and either she doesn’t want to leave, or they won’t let her.” Conor felt Kate’s gaze on him. “She keeps a case full of notes and jewelry that people leave on Tyler’s grave. Really expensive things. She mentioned ‘diamond love’ and giving back—I guess because he took such good care of them when they were here.”
“Sounds as if she really opened up to you,” Conor said.
“She started to, then she shut down. Do you think the gifts are from the girls, the ones who were aboardPsyche?” Kate asked.
“Why would anyone subjected to that kind of treatment onPsychewant to give gifts to the person who did it?” Tom asked.
“We don’t know that Tyler did anything,” Conor said. “The hospital seems like ground zero, but we don’t have the evidence to prove he was involved, whether hands on or even in the background. Since the crimes are still occurring, someone else is calling the shots.”
“That’s all true, but I think your question is really good, Tom,” Kate said. “Victims would give gifts to a captor because they have been conditioned to love him. You saw the website: ‘We’ll love you till you can love yourself.’”
Conor gazed at her, knowing that her wisdom on the subject came from something she had experienced when she was only sixteen.
“Can’t Joe get a warrant for the hospital?” Kate asked.
“Not yet,” Conor said. “There’s not probable cause. We have a lot of threads, but that’s all. We’ll see what Joe gets back from the crime lab, as far as evidence fromPsycheand the house on the island, and that might help for a warrant for those places. We still don’t have enough for Maynard-King.”
“Have we defined the crime?” Tom asked.
“Take your pick,” Conor said. “Murder, trafficking, kidnapping, unlawful confinement, sexual assault, torture.”
“But who is doing this?” Kate asked. “Say the girls are taken from here, from Maynard-King, who plans where they will go, what they will do? Who gives those orders? There has to be one person in charge.”
“We’ll talk with Darla Vandeveer,” Tom said. “If she’s in charge of the corporation, she’ll have paperwork on the boat, house, and hospital. That will be a good start.”
Conor nodded his head. They stood on the dock, looking at the boats tied beside it. Were these vessels involved with 1740? One was a vintage eighteen-foot varnished wood Chris-Craft, the other was a million-dollar Hinckley Picnic Boat 37, a beauty with a wide deck and comfortable cabin.
The Chris-Craft didn’t have a name; the Hinckley’s wasZémire. Tom had checked the whaler’s Rhode Island registration and the Hinckley’s documentation. No surprise,Zémirewas owned by Leprince de Beaumont Associates. The Chris-Craft’s ownership was more straightforward—its owner was Darla Vandeveer. Because it was a small, open runabout, with no cabin, there wasn’t much to hide.
“Are there handcuffs inZémiretoo?” Kate asked, standing beside the larger boat, trying to peer through the windows. One was slid open a crack, but the curtains were closed. “Anyone in there?” she called.
