Girls Like Us(56)

“The lady, she stared at Adriana while we worked. I got nervous, I thought maybe Adriana looked too young and that worried her. But then she asked Adriana if she could try on one of the dresses. She held up this beautiful dress—it had one shoulder and was made of silk—and Adriana took it and started walking toward the bathroom. The lady stopped her and said she didn’t need to be shy, she could change here in front of us.

“So Adriana took her clothes off. I think she was embarrassed because she was wearing an old bra and panties that didn’t match. She took those off, too. Then she slipped on this dress and the lady smiled. Adriana did, too. The woman told her she looked like Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of beauty. She asked Adriana if she ever thought about modeling. Adriana said no. The lady walked over to her. She stood behind her and they both looked into a mirror. She pulled Adriana’s hair back and twisted it into a bun. She said, ‘See how elegant you are? You look like Helen of Troy. You look like Leda.’ And that’s what she called her after that. She called her Leda.”

I grimace. “Leda was raped. It’s a Greek myth. Zeus took the form of a swan and raped her.”

Elena says nothing. She bites her lip; her nostrils flare.

“Did you ever see her again? This woman?”

“She handed Adriana a card and said to call her if she ever changed her mind about modeling. She said she worked in entertainment and was always looking for pretty new faces. Once we left the house, I told Adriana to stay away from her.”

“And you don’t remember her last name?”

“I don’t. I’m sorry. I haven’t thought about her in years.”

“Did you ever meet Mr. Meachem?”

“No. We cleaned that house a few times. Before Mr. Meachem would arrive and after he was already gone. But I never saw him. And the French woman, she never spoke to me or to Adriana again.”

“You don’t think Adriana called her?”

“I didn’t think so. But now I’m not so sure. Oh, God. That house. It was right next to the park, wasn’t it? Where her body was found.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he killed her? James Meachem?”

“I don’t know. But he hires young escorts for his parties. He’s a predator, and I want to make sure he never hurts another girl again.”

Elena nods, silent. A tear slides down her cheek and drops onto the carpet.

I reach into my bag and pull out the photograph of Dad and Glenn Dorsey. I hand it to her, tapping my finger on my father’s image. “Elena, is this the police officer who came to your house after you reported Adriana missing?”

She studies it carefully. “Yes. That’s him.”

“Could you look out the window? There’s a car parked in front.”

She stands up and walks to the window. She peers outside and her eyes widen in fear.

“Is that—?”

“It’s my father’s pickup. The man in the photograph.”

“That’s the red truck. The one I saw outside the house before Adriana died.”

“You’re sure. Take another look. It’s important.”

Elena turns back to the window. Her hand presses against the glass. “Yes, that’s it. It was parked right where it is now. I’m sure. It was like he was watching us.”

“I just have one last question.” I fish the Polaroid photograph out of my purse and hand it to her. “This is Adriana, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She nods. She touches her finger to her sister’s image. “That’s her. Where did you get this?”

“My father had it. Do you know who the other girl in the picture is?”

Elena frowns, considering. “Her name’s Maria,” she says after a few seconds. “Maria Cruz. They went to St. Mary’s together for First Communion. She was a nice girl.”

“I’m trying to find her. You don’t know where she is, do you?”

“No. I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her in a long time. I hope she’s all right.”

“I hope she is, too.”





20.



Outside, I listen to a message from Luz.

I spoke to Gio, she says. He told me to come by today or tomorrow with my friend. He said he’s always looking for fresh blood. Let me know what you want to do.

I dial Sarah Patel’s number.

“Luz can bring me to Calabrese’s today,” I tell her. The sedan is still outside, waiting for me. The driver hides behind his newspaper, the front page rustling a little as he peers over the top of it. I make a mental note of the license plate: HB-778.

“Nell, it can’t be you. It’s too close for comfort. What if Calabrese recognizes you?”

“How would he recognize me?”

“He knows your father. And what if he wants you to work a party? You can’t go in there. It will be swarming with cops.”

She has a point.

“So what do we do?”

“Can Luz go in herself? We could wire her up and send her in.”

“That’s too risky. She’s just a kid.”

“I can’t get an agent up there today. It’s too tight.”

“Why don’t I go with her? Just to meet him. She can always tell him later that I changed my mind.”