Girls Like Us(48)

“What does she do for you?”

“Cleans up, waitresses. Last week she put in all the storm windows. Whatever I need, really.”

“How does she know Dorsey?”

“Through the investigation, I guess. Wait, was this the guy who lives across the street from her? The landscaper? Dorsey told me about him. He showed me a picture once, told me to keep an eye out for him.”

“Yeah. Alfonso Morales.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. That fucking animal. If they’d locked him up last summer, that girl might still be alive.” He paused then, and his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “I don’t mean no disrespect. I’m sure your dad did everything he could have to get the guy.”

“None taken. Listen, you know where I can find Luz? I’d like to talk to her.”

“Sure. I got her info in the back somewhere.” He tops up my drink. “It’s getting real nasty out there. If I were you, I’d stay awhile. No sense driving at night in these conditions. And definitely not out to Brentwood. That place ain’t safe after dark.”





17.



From Hank’s, I drive straight to Brentwood. There are two police cars parked outside of Morales’s house. The flashing red lights make me nervous. I hide my face as best I can inside the hood of my coat and hurry up the path to Luz’s front door.

She’s there, in the window. Watching the police. Watching me. I ring the bell and wait. She disappears from sight. For a minute, nothing. But then I hear footsteps, and the clicking of locks. Luz opens the door. A gust of wind blows her hair off her face. She’s barefoot, wearing only pajama pants and a light pink sweatshirt. She crosses her arms against her chest, hunching in the cold. She looks so young. A wide-eyed, frightened kid. Inside, in a back room, a baby is crying.

“Are you Luz?” I ask.

She nods, silent.

“My name is Nell Flynn. I’m with the FBI. I was hoping I could ask you some questions about your friend. Ria Sandoval.”

I show her my ID. She studies it and then peers over my shoulder, toward the Morales house. “Have they arrested him?”

“Yes. Earlier today.”

She chews her lip, considering. “Then why do you need to talk to me?”

Rain cascades down the hood of my jacket, slipping off its slick surface, pooling on the cracked cement beneath my feet. I tremble from the chill. My shoulder aches. Luz stands firmly at the door. She seems wary of me and more so of the police. I’m starting to feel that way myself.

“This is a serial murder investigation,” I explain. “It’s not just about Ria. There was another body found at Shinnecock County Park yesterday.”

“I heard about it.”

“A girl named Adriana Marques. Morales is a suspect in both murders. The police are questioning him now.”

Ria’s eyes widen. The color drains from her face. “Adriana? The girl from Riverhead?”

“Did you know her?”

“Oh my God,” she whispers.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you knew them both.”

“They think he killed Adriana, too?”

“It’s one theory. It would be helpful if I could ask you some questions about Ria. I’m trying to understand how these cases are connected.”

She stares at me, her eyes bright with fear. “How did she die? Was it the same thing as Ria?”

“It was similar.”

She bends at the waist. For a second, I think she might throw up. She closes her eyes, her palm covers her mouth.

I glance over my shoulder at the police cars across the street. Two men in SCPD vests emerge from Morales’s house. I turn back around, hoping they don’t notice me. “Do you think I could come inside?”

Luz’s eyes open. “You said you’re with the FBI? Not the police? I don’t want to talk to the police again.”

“You don’t have to. Everything you say to me will be between us.”

“If I tell you something important, something helpful about Ria and Adriana, can you help me and my brother get out of here?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Just away from here. Off this island. Somewhere safe. I can’t talk to you unless I know we’ll be okay afterward.” Her eyes are wide, pleading.

“Okay,” I say slowly. “I will do everything I can to make sure you and your brother are safe.”

“No, you need to promise. We have to leave.”

“I promise. Witness protection, if that’s what it takes. You have my word.”

She frowns at me, considering. Finally, she says: “We can talk. Somewhere else, though. My family is home. They’re sleeping.”

“It’s late. I can come back tomorrow.”

“No.” She nods her head toward the blinking lights. “It’s better if we talk now.”

We end up driving. It’s late, close to midnight. Most places are closed. Luz doesn’t want to run the risk of being seen with me, so we stay in the car, heading east along the highway. She seems, for the moment, relieved to be away from her house. Her shoulders drop from around her ears once we turn off her street and the lights of the police cars fade in the distance.

“Do you want to listen to music?” I gesture at the radio. Rain drums on the roof, and the wipers work furiously to clear the windshield. Luz leans forward and flicks it on. She turns through a few stations, rap to pop to classical, not settling on anything. Finally, she stops on 103.9, the local news station.