“No, not yet,” Claude said. “Leonard’s down at the dock whale watching. He’ll bring her to the house when she arrives. I hope everything’s all right. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes. Ness and I are at the Culling Pointe gate. Can you come let us in?”
“Sure,” Claude said. “Just give me a sec.”
Jo parked her car along the shoulder of Danskammer Beach Road. She climbed out and met Nessa on the other side of the vehicle. The warm sun shone down on them and waves lazily lapped at the nearby shore as they walked to the gate.
Nessa stopped a few feet from it. “I don’t like this place,” she announced, staring down at the pavement ahead of her as though it were flaming brimstone.
“You look like you’re going to vomit,” Jo whispered back. “Why don’t you wait in the car?”
The screaming inside her head was so deafening that Nessa couldn’t hear herself think, and words she hadn’t been able to process rolled out of her mouth.
“They’ve been waiting for me,” she said. “I should have come a long time ago.”
Nessa heard an engine drawing closer. Then a golf cart appeared with Claude behind the wheel. The gate opened and Nessa stepped over the property line. The voices fell silent. They knew she’d arrived.
“What’s going on?” Claude asked. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. Harriett never carries a phone and we need to find her so she can deal with a family matter,” Jo said. “Why are there no guards at the gate?”
“The season is over. Everyone’s gone home,” Claude said. “Harriett didn’t want anyone around when she got to work on the plants, so we gave the staff a holiday. Jump in and we’ll drive down to the dock and see if she’s gotten here yet.”
Jo climbed into the front seat of the cart beside Claude, while Nessa took the back.
“Harriett wanted the Pointe to be empty today?” Jo asked.
“Yeah.” Claude stepped on the gas and steered the golf cart back the way she’d come. “She said her methods were proprietary, and she didn’t want anyone snooping around.”
They rounded a turn and the Pointe unfurled before them. What had once been a patchwork of perfectly landscaped lawns was now a sea of yellow. At least three bushes grew in every yard.
“Wow,” Jo said.
“The Scotch broom has taken over,” Claude said. “I have no idea how Harriett plans to get rid of it, but you can see why she wouldn’t want anyone around to get in the way.”
Nessa leaned forward over the front seat and clutched Jo’s arm. “Jesus, they’re everywhere,” she croaked.
“Yeah,” said Claude. “It’s a real invasion.”
Nessa fell back against her seat. “Stop the cart,” she ordered. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Right here?” While Claude glanced up at the rearview mirror, Jo laid a hand on the dashboard. A plume of black smoke rose up to the heavens, and the vehicle rolled to a stop.
“What the hell?” Claude stared at the steering wheel.
Nessa scrambled out of the golf cart and vomited on the nearest yard.
“We’ll be right back,” Jo told Claude. She waited until Nessa’s stomach had emptied and then guided her friend to the shade of one of the yellow-flower-covered bushes. “Are you okay? What did you see?” she asked quietly.
Nessa shook her head. There was no way to describe all the girls who’d come to stand around her. None of them appeared to be more than seventeen years old. Every shade of skin, every color of hair, every shape of body—they were all represented. Nessa recognized some of the faces from the walls of Franklin’s office. Lena Collins was there, standing a head taller than most of the others. She spotted petite Rosalia Cortez nearby. On the surface, they seemed to have nothing in common, aside from their youth. But Nessa knew there was another trait they all shared. These were all girls the world felt free to ignore. They were girls whose families weren’t rich enough to demand attention. They were girls who were chosen because people with everything thought their lives were worth nothing.