The rules of the Culling Pointe community were as follows: Summers were family time. Girls were only allowed off-season. No girls under sixteen were permitted, and nothing rough was allowed. No girl would be brought to the Pointe more than once. Each girl would be paid enough so she never felt the need to come back. Every man on the Pointe would contribute five million dollars to Leonard’s charities each year. Claude would oversee how the money was spent.
The girls she chose had to meet three criteria: They had to need the money. Their parents needed to be distracted, on drugs, or dead. And the girls needed to be innocent—the element of surprise had to work in Claude’s favor. Wherever she traveled, she would look for girls. And wherever she went, she would find them. Most of them were smart enough to avoid middle-aged men. None of them ever questioned Claude’s motives.
She had a pep talk she would give the girls who cried afterward. What you just received was a shot in the arm, she would tell them. A little dose of ugliness. A glimpse of the way things really work in this world. You survived, and now you’re not only immune—you’re stronger than you were before. Take the money you’ve made and the wisdom you’ve earned and put them both to good use. That’s what I’ve done, she’d say. Claude had said it so many times that she’d come to mean it.
She had a different chat with the few who seemed inclined to take their stories to the police. Do you know what would happen to you? she’d ask. We have the country’s best lawyers on retainer. If there were ever a trial, you would certainly lose. After that, every time anyone searched for your name online, they’d know you were a prostitute. We would ensure that the stories never went away. We would sue you for defamation of character and take every dime you ever earn. We would haunt you for the rest of your life. Claude only had to say that a handful of times. But she believed that speech, too.
It all worked like a charm. The arrangement couldn’t have been more ideal. Claude had found a way to make sure everyone got what they wanted.
Until Spencer Harding arrived.
She’d never wanted him on the Pointe. She’d heard whispers about his lifestyle during her art world days. Back then, interns at his gallery were forced to sign lengthy NDAs, and few stayed for long. Spencer had never married, and he had no family. Even in middle age, his reputation was far from pristine. Claude told Leonard they didn’t have enough leverage to keep him under control. There was no guarantee he’d obey the Pointe’s rules.
She was supposed to have the final word on such things, and that word was no. Then Spencer got married. He promised twice the yearly fee. Her answer remained no.
“I think we should be a little more flexible,” Leonard said. Claude later learned that he’d already signed off on Spencer’s lease.
After Rosamund told her about the girl who never showed up, Claude spoke to the police herself. Chief Rocca assured Claude that the girl came from a bad family and had likely run away. But he drove out to the Pointe to speak to the Hardings nonetheless. The girl was never located, but Rocca stuck around.
For the men of the Pointe, Rocca’s presence was emboldening. He refused to look directly at Claude—or speak to her with any hint of respect. It had been easy to keep the other men in line. She had files on each of them, should she ever need the leverage. But she had nothing on Rocca. Claude, whose favor everyone on the Pointe had once curried, was now spoken about as a nuisance.
Then she found Faith. The girl had caught Leonard’s eye in Jamaica but refused to give him the time of day. Claude brought her back to deliver a message: only she could have wrangled the headstrong beauty. She took the Polaroids for Leonard. Faith was a special gift, and it seemed fitting to let him choose the wrapping. But Leonard was worried the girl would fight. He told Claude to give Faith to Spencer instead.
“A little gift to win him over,” he’d said.
The next morning, the girl was missing.
“Where’s Faith?” Claude demanded. “Did you kill her? Where’s the body?”