Lucy had proven remarkably resilient, just as Harriett had predicted. The two of them had begun spending hours together each week. Jo didn’t know what they discussed, and when she asked, Lucy would find a way to dodge the question. But she seemed stronger and more self-assured every time she came home covered in dirt from Harriett’s garden. It was Jo who couldn’t forget what had happened. She ran ten miles every morning and worked out for hours after Lucy went to bed. Nothing she did seemed to help. The man they’d been after had escaped from justice. And most of Mattauk thought she was to blame.
The smug, satisfied face of Chief Rocca haunted her. It was his face she destroyed when she hit the punching bag. It was his face she pummeled with her fists when she ran. Not only was he a lying sack of shit and an accomplice to murder, he’d used the Newsnight interview to brazenly take credit for everything she, Nessa, and Harriett had done. None of them had expected to receive any praise. But to see their work ignored and their names besmirched—it was too much to take. Jo thought she’d left all that behind when she finally escaped the corporate world. But it didn’t seem to matter where a woman was—there was always someone waiting to shove her out of the spotlight and into a steaming pile of shit.
She spent less time at the gym now, and more time with Lucy. After the break-in at their home, Jo hardly let the girl out of her sight. Every morning, Art found them both asleep in Lucy’s twin bed. Jo had installed a security system, and new locks had been put on all the windows and doors. The house was a veritable fortress, but Jo never felt safe. Art understood, but she could see he was worried. At some point, Jo’s need to protect their daughter would do more harm than good. Unable to send Lucy away, she’d already canceled her sleepaway camp.
“It’s okay,” she overheard Lucy telling Art. “Mom needs me to be here right now.”
That night, Jo had spent hours on the Spin bike she’d had installed in the basement. She could have ridden to the moon and back—it wouldn’t have made any difference. There was no way to burn off her rage or the terror that fueled it.
On the last day of August, Jo got Lucy out of bed early. Art was headed to a meeting in Manhattan, so Jo took their daughter with her to open the gym. They were at the front door, with the key in the lock, when Jo spotted the reflection of someone coming up behind them.
Before Jo could react, Lucy wheeled around like a miniature ninja, her fists clenched and her arms poised to punch.
“Hey there,” said a woman in black leggings and a windbreaker. She held out a hand to Lucy. “I’m Claude.” There was nothing patronizing about the gesture.
“Lucy,” the girl replied, unclenching a fist to shake the woman’s hand.
“You’ve got quite a bodyguard,” Claude told Jo. “I wouldn’t want to mess with her.”
“She’s pretty tough.” Jo hugged her daughter proudly, then gave Claude a once-over. “You look like you’re raring to go this morning. We don’t usually open for another hour or so. The bees still bothering you out on the Pointe?”
“They haven’t been quite as bad since Jackson’s been in the hospital,” Claude said.
Jo grimaced. “Oh God. He’s still in there?”
“Leonard told me he’s being released soon. I know this will sound horrible, but it’s been much more pleasant on the Pointe without him. This has been my first harassment-free summer in ages.”
“Morning!” Heather, Jo’s assistant manager, joined them, and Jo stepped aside so she could open the doors. “Well, hello there, Miss Lucy. I could use some help getting things ready. If we get our work done fast enough, I can buy you a smoothie before we open.”
“Yes!” Lucy raced inside to get started.
“You are a saint for offering, but you do not have to babysit,” Jo told Heather.
“Babysit?” Heather scoffed. “Lucy’s one of the best workers around—and she’s definitely the cheapest.”
“Okay then,” Jo said. “But the second you need some kid-free time, you just let me know.” She held the door as Heather passed through and waited for Claude to come inside as well.
“Actually, I’m not here to work out,” Claude admitted. Her tone had changed, and some of her confidence seemed to have slipped away. “I was wondering if you might have a few minutes. I have a question I’d like to ask you.”
“Okay,” Jo said. “What is it?”
“Come across the street for a quick cup of coffee?” Claude asked.
“Sure,” Jo said. “I can spare a few minutes.” She opened the gym door and peeked her head inside. Heather and Lucy were unwrapping the previous day’s laundry. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
“No worries,” Heather said. “Lucy and I got this. Take your time.”
The café had only opened a few minutes earlier, and they were the first and only customers. Claude bought a coffee while Jo grabbed a juice. Then they chose a table near the front window.
The morning light was unforgiving. Claude appeared pale and on the verge of tears. “First of all, I just want to tell you how sorry I am.”
“For what?” Jo asked.
“For what happened to your beautiful daughter—” Claude paused to wipe her eyes and gain control of herself. “And to all those other girls. I knew Spencer was rotten. I knew he had something to do with Rosamund’s death. But I had no idea he was capable of such atrocities. And to think it was happening right under my nose! I haven’t been able to sleep in weeks.”
“I think there have been a lot of people going without sleep lately,” Jo told her, hoping they could move on to a different subject.
“Well, I want to do something,” Claude said. “I want to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”
The words struck a familiar chord. Jo had told Lucy the very same thing. “Do you have something in mind?”
“No, but I bet we could come up with something together. Something big.”
“Something big?” Jo smiled, wondering where this was all going. “Okay.”
“Leonard says he’ll fund it. He feels terrible, too.”
Jo’s smile faded. Claude was serious.
“Between you and me, I’ve never touched a dime of his cash,” Claude said. “But this is important to me. No one teaches girls how to take care of themselves. We train them to be pretty and kind and polite right before we set them loose in a world filled with wolves. Then we act surprised and horrified when some of them get eaten. After my father died, I came very close to being one of those girls. The only thing that saved me back then was luck.”
Jo thought of her own upbringing. Her good, solid, middle-class mother had tried so hard to iron out her rough edges—and blamed herself when she realized she hadn’t succeeded. Those rough edges had rubbed quite a few people the wrong way. Somehow Jo had always sensed those weren’t the kind of people she wanted around her. And as she grew older, she saw that those who wanted girls to be docile and disciplined were often the same people who took advantage of them.
“What if we created a program for girls that combines assertiveness training, self-defense, and martial arts?” Jo suggested. It was something she’d daydreamed about countless times in the past. “So the next time some asshole snatches someone’s kid off the street, he gets a lot more than he bargained for.”
“Yes! I love it!” Claude exclaimed. “We can do a pilot here in Mattauk. And then we’ll use Leonard’s money to take it national. Maybe even global.”