Girls Like Us(25)

In the living room, there is a desk. In the top drawer, I find an assortment of pens and pencils, paper clips, and printer paper. There’s an envelope with forty dollars in it; she must have left in a hurry. A Polaroid is pushed to the very back. I withdraw it and stare at the image. It’s of two young women, their arms looped affectionately around each other’s shoulders. They look young—younger than I am, anyway—and both are beautiful. It’s possible they’re sisters. They have the same long black hair, olive skin, high cheekbones. I wonder if one of them is Maria.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I set the photo down. When I see it’s Lee, I answer right away.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice too chipper for a man in the midst of a murder investigation. “Did you get some rest last night?”

“Not really. You?”

“Not a wink.” He laughs. “But I have some good news. We have an ID on the body.”

“That was fast.”

“I told you, Milkowski’s good.”

I don’t respond.

“She traced the number on the plate in the vic’s jaw. It’s a match with the girl who went missing around Labor Day. Adriana Marques. Eighteen years old. Local girl from Riverhead. Very similar profile to Ria Sandoval. Did some escorting, advertised on Craigslist and Backpage. They even look alike. Long, dark hair. Petite, attractive.”

My finger traces the girls in the Polaroid. “Any family?”

“Limited. Mom passed away, Dad’s serving time upstate. Adriana lived with her older sister, Elena Marques. Elena was the one who called her in missing.”

“Boyfriend?”

“She has an ex. He’s a real piece of work. Low-level gangbanger, affiliated with MS-13.”

“Lovely. Check his alibi.”

“He’s serving time at Mid-State Correctional for aggravated assault. Been in since June.”

“Okay. So he’s in the clear. But maybe there’s some kind of gang connection here.”

“When the sister reported Adriana missing, she mentioned that she’d seen a dark red pickup parked outside their house. More than once.”

“So?”

“So that’s what Morales drives.”

“Should we track Morales down?”

“Dorsey wants me to go talk to the sister first. Before this thing blows up in the news. Thought it might be good if you came along.”

“Notifying next of kin. My favorite part of the job.”

“Are you home? I can pick you up on my way.”

“I’m actually in Riverhead. I’m at the coffee shop on Main Street. Why don’t you meet me here?”

“Sure thing. I’m on my way. Oh, and get me a donut if you can. And a cup of coffee.”

“You know you’re a walking cliché, right?”

Lee chuckles. “Look, I’m trying my best to fit in. See you in a few.”



* * *



—

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Lee pulls up in front of Main Street Coffee. I’m standing on the sidewalk, donut and coffee in hand. Lee reaches across the passenger seat and pushes open the door for me. He looks like hell, I can’t help but notice. I’m sure he’s thinking the same about me.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he says, reaching for the coffee.

“I know.”

“Thanks for coming. This is the toughest part of the job.”

“Always is.”

“Doesn’t get any easier, does it?”

“Telling the family? No, I don’t think so. If it feels easy, it’s probably time for a vacation.”

I see a local number pop up on my phone. “Hang on a second. Let me take this.”

Lee nods, as if to say, Go ahead.

“Nell Flynn.”

“Nell, it’s Cole Haines, down at impound. Not sure if you remember me, but I used to go fishing with your dad now and then.”

“Yes, of course. Good to hear your voice, Cole.”

“I’m sorry about what happened. Marcy and me were just devastated when we heard.”

“Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”

“Your father was a good man, Nell. A real good man.”

I clear my throat, hoping to speed this along. “About his bike,” I prompt.

“Right. The bike. It took a hard beating. Looked like he drove it headlong into a tree or something. I told them to take it to the crime lab, you know, just in case. Maybe there was brake trouble. If it were me, I’d be suing the manufacturer.”

“Why didn’t they? Take it to the lab, I mean.”

“Got me. It’s just been sitting here. And then Dorsey called me today and tells me to take it to the junkyard.”

I frown. “You didn’t junk it yet, did you?”

“No, ma’am. I got your message and I figured you should take a look and decide for yourself. I mean, I’m happy to dispose of it, if that’s your preference. But if there’s insurance money to be had—”

“I’ll come by later. Thanks, Cole. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. See you soon.”

“Who was that?” Lee asks when I hang up.

“Cole Haines, down at impound. He’s got my dad’s bike.”