Girls Like Us(58)

“Look at you,” he says, pushing himself up to stand. He opens his arms and wraps me up, holding me for an extra second or two. “It’s real good to see you. Man, the last time was, what, ten years ago?”

“Something like that. It’s good to see you, too. Thanks for doing this.”

“You kidding? Anything for you.”

“This a bad time?”

“No. I was going to call you today. Follow me. I want to show you something.”

I follow Ty past a row of cars to the rear door of the garage. There’s a small yard out back, with tarps set up to cover spare parts from the rain. At the edge of the property, there’s a shed with a padlocked door. Ty pops the lock and ushers me inside. A shaft of light filters through the screened-in window, glinting off the silver body of my father’s bike. It lies on its side on a drop cloth, like a patient undergoing surgery.

“I want to talk straight to you, Nell.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“I’m no crime lab expert, but looks to me like someone cut your dad’s brake line.”

“You’re sure?”

Ty grimaces. I can read the answer in his face. “It’s a clean cut. Look, I can show you.” He squats down, beckons me to do the same. “See this here?”

“Yep.”

“Brakes usually fail when there’s rust from poor maintenance. Now, you and I both know your dad. He kept his bikes in pristine condition. And there’s no sign of rust in the fluid. Everything is in perfect working order, except the line is severed clean across.”

I stare at the brake. It looks like a bone that’s snapped in half. Ty doesn’t need to explain it to me: I can see it myself. The cut was intentional. The intent was murder.

“Any idea who would do a thing like this?” he asks.

“I have a few ideas.” I stand up. “Listen, Ty, can you keep this between us? Don’t let anyone know you have this bike in your shop. Okay?”

“Of course. Between us. That’s why I have it out back here.”

“Do you mind keeping it for a day or two?”

“Nope. No one comes back here but me.” He crosses his arms and stares down at me, his brow furrowed. “You gonna be okay? Maybe you should call one of your dad’s buddies from the force.”

“No. I’ll be fine. This is something I need to handle on my own.”

“Listen. Whoever did this to your dad’s bike meant business, so be careful. Watch your back. I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

“That makes two of us.”



* * *



—

AS I WALK away from Ty’s garage, I dial Luz’s number. There’s no time to lose.

“Call Giovanni,” I tell her. “Tell him we’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she says. I can hear the fear in her voice. “And then what?”

“You just have to introduce me, that’s it. I’ll take care of everything else. By the time I’m meeting with him, I’ll make sure you and your brother are on your way into protective custody.”

“Be careful. Gio’s got a temper. He’s not someone you want to piss off.”

I cock the phone between my ear and shoulder to check my weapon. “I get it. But listen, Luz: neither am I.”





21.



The parking lot outside of Hank’s is mostly empty. I pull in next to Dorsey’s Jeep and wait, hoping that Lee will materialize. It’s a few minutes past. It’s possible he’s already inside. I stash my weapon in the glove compartment. I check my phone one last time and step out of the car. My breath crystalizes in the cold night air. I turn up my collar, shove my hands in my pockets. In the distance, I hear a motorboat out on the bay and the whir of traffic crossing over the Ponquogue Bridge.

The lights are on inside. There isn’t any music playing, at least not yet, and if a crowd has gathered, it’s a small one. I push the door open and scan the room. It’s empty but for the back booth, where two men sit in close conversation.

Their heads swivel as I enter. Dorsey and DaSilva. They stand to greet me. I glance sideways at the bar, hoping to see Hank, at least. He’s not there. No one is. The whole joint is empty except for me and the two men.

“Hey, Nell, glad you could join us,” Dorsey says. His voice is congenial. Friendly, even. Still, there’s something off about him, about this whole scene. As he strides toward me with a thin-lipped grin, my stomach tightens in fear.

“Can I get you a drink? Bar’s open.”

“Am I early? Or late?”

“Neither. You’re right on time.”

“Where’s Hank?”

“He stepped out. We asked him to give us the place for the night. I’m sure some other guys will be along shortly.”

I consider the distance to my truck and then from the parking lot to the road. I won’t get far. The parking lot is empty and surrounded by boats on dry docks. If Dorsey wants to shoot me right here, right now, he can. Most likely, no one will hear it.

DaSilva stands at the back of the bar, his thick arms crossed against his chest. With angry, blunt features and a reddish face, DaSilva always looks like the kind of guy that’s out for a fight. Of Dad’s friends, he was the only one who lingered in the Third Precinct. Maybe he liked the violence. Maybe he hated the residents. Even as a child, I was aware that my mother didn’t like him or maybe, more accurately, that they didn’t like each other. I think about the way Luz’s face soured when she said his name.