you have to take care of the people you love.”
Yale considered blurting out that Julian was the one who’d infected Charlie, but what was the point? It would get around, it would hurt people. And if Teddy was so happy to take care of Julian, why throw a wrench in the works?
He said, “You must be a better person than I am, Teddy. I wish you all the best.”
2015
Fiona had the door to Richard’s only half open when Serge flung it wide. He grabbed her arm and drew her in. He said, “I look for you an hour! Your phone is, ah, asleep.”
Fiona pulled it out of her purse. How had she let it die?
“He’s here!” Serge said.
“Who is?”
“Your detective. He’s very, um, excited? Yes?”
Richard appeared behind him. He said, “Serge was out combing the streets for you! Your guy found us. I mean, that’s a decent detective, to track us down here.”
Fiona looked back and forth between them. “Excited” could have meant agitated, coming from Serge. It might have meant alarmed or panicked. Or happy.
Serge said, “He uses the bathroom! One second!” and then he vanished down the hall.
She said to Richard, “What, tell me!”
“Well, I’ll mangle it, dear. Be patient.”
And here came Arnaud, tucking his shirt back into his jeans.
Arnaud said, “Ah, okay, hello! Yes! Your phone was dead all day! But I have double good news. She’s ready to meet with you.”
“She’s—what? Who, Claire?”
“Ha. I’m good, right? Fast. She’s here in the city. Well, she lives in Saint-Denis, not a very nice suburb. But she works at a bar-tabac in the eighteenth.”
Fiona found herself leaning against the wall.
She said, because it was the first question she could think of, “How did you do it?”
“I cut the Gordian knot! I asked the wife. I walked up and down the street early this morning, and when she comes out I say, Are you Claire Blanchard? When she says no, I say Claire owes a parking ticket, does she know her place of work? So she sends me there.”
Fiona said, “Oh my God. You went there? You saw her?” She was vaguely aware of Serge and Richard grinning at her. Kurt must not have told his wife about the visit or she’d have been on guard.
Arnaud said, “Yes. A couple of hours ago. She’s fine. A little thin but fine. She didn’t look, ah—not like she was in a cult. Little bit of lipstick, you know. Not so bad.”
“And the girl?”
“No. I mean, I didn’t see the girl. But yes, that is her daughter. I verified. It’s her daughter with Kurt Pearce. She has the girl.”
“She does!”
“Nicolette. I didn’t see her, but she told me.”
Fiona’s whole face stung. “Her name is what?”
“Nicolette.” He enunciated. “You want me to spell it out for you?”
“We—” She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t look at Richard. She finally managed: “What am I supposed to do?”
“Well. You pay me. Ha. And I’m going to give you the address. After that, it’s up to you.” But Claire didn’t want her coming by till tomorrow. Arnaud said, “She wants, you know, some time. To prepare. She was a bit shocked.”
“You don’t think she’d leave?” Fiona said. “What if she runs away?”
“Well. I have no idea. But this was not my impression.”
She wanted to go right away to the address Arnaud had just handed her, but why? It could only do damage.
Arnaud had to leave; this was not his only case, and he’d spent all day tracking her down. Serge took her dead phone out of her hand to charge it, said he’d bring some food to her room. She was shaky, and she must’ve looked it.
* * *
—
It was too early to call Damian in Portland, but not too early to call Cecily.
Cecily must be at least seventy now, but in Fiona’s mind she always looked as she had in the mid-1980s. Shoulder pads and gelled hair, her face bright and unlined. She’d seen Cecily only once since Kurt and Claire first joined the Hosanna Collective. Cecily was in the process of packing up her Evanston house then, getting ready to move to the Upper Peninsula, and she sat with Fiona at the table in her otherwise empty kitchen. She expressed concern for Claire, for Fiona, but said she’d written Kurt off long ago. She said, “I could’ve told you. I would have told you. If I’d known you were introducing them. He’s his father all over again. Well, no, he’s smarter than his father. But that doesn’t