Girls Like Us(61)

“I remember,” I say, my voice small.

“But he didn’t see it coming, I guess. He just had his head in the sand. Marisol told him she wanted out and Marty went ballistic. Charged into the office screaming that we’d all betrayed him, that we all must have known. I think he felt blindsided. He took it out on everyone in striking distance. He punched a hole in the wall right next to my desk. We were all pretty worried about him after that. He took off for a couple of days and I wasn’t sure if he was coming back. Do you remember that?”

I shake my head. I don’t. And yet, something deep in the recesses of my memory stirs. A door slamming. The sound of my parents arguing downstairs. My father’s motorcycle engine firing up, and then whirring off down the street until the house fell silent and all I could hear was my mother whispering to someone on the phone and the buzz of cicadas out on the lawn.

“He came back, of course. A few days later. He told me he was taking you camping that weekend. He was going to give Marisol some space, to think things over. I actually thought that was a good idea. Everyone needed to cool down. But then . . . well, you know. She was murdered that weekend. And so of course, I thought about it. Could he have done that? Did he have it in him? It scared me, but the answer was yes. I thought he was capable of that kind of rage.”

“Did you ask him?”

“Of course. I said, ‘Marty, I’m only going to ask you once.’ And he looked me straight in the eye and swore to me that he didn’t do it. I wanted to believe him. More than anything. He was my best friend. And Marisol—your mom—she was . . .” His eyes glaze over with tears.

Suddenly, I understand.

“Did you love her?” I whisper.

“Very much.”

“Did she love you?”

“I think so. Yes. I think she did.”

“And so you felt responsible.”

“Of course I did. Your dad never knew that it was me she’d fallen for. She didn’t have the heart to tell him. And neither did I. So it was my fault. It was all my fault. If we hadn’t—if I just hadn’t—” He shakes his head, unable to finish the sentence.

I believe him. “There’s no point in thinking that way now,” I say, my voice softening.

“I’ll tell you something, Nell. I looked into his eyes and asked him if he killed Marisol, and a part of me thought, I will kill him if he so much as laid a finger on her. I loved that woman. I was heartbroken myself. But he said no. And I believed him. I still believe him.”

“And Gilroy?”

“A neighbor—the woman across the street, the one who called 911—remembered seeing Gilroy leaving your house. We went straight there. The kid was covered in her blood. He was wearing your father’s clothes. He couldn’t explain how he ended up in the house, or why his fingerprints were on the knife. Did I lean on him in the interrogation room? Yeah, I did. But only because I knew he did it and I wanted it to be over. For Marty’s sake. For your sake. It just needed to be over. You see that, right?”

Dorsey looks tired. He pinches the skin between his eyes, massaging the place where his brows come together. “I did what I thought was right,” he says, more to himself than to me. “And I stand by that decision.”

“And what about Morales? Did he kill those girls?”

“Your dad didn’t, that’s for sure. Look, the business with Calabrese. Your dad needed that money. He’d gotten himself into some trouble, financially speaking. He had debts to pay. He asked me for help and I gave it to him. He wouldn’t kill those girls. All that would do was stir up trouble.”

“Did you lean on Morales, Glenn?”

“I lean on people who deserve to be leaned on.”

“Are you sure Morales killed them? You don’t sound sure.”

“He had something to do with it. I’m sure of that. Maybe he didn’t shoot them, but he sure as hell chopped them up.”

“Who do you think shot them? It can’t be Morales. He’s not tall enough. He’s not a lefty. You must have an idea.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was Calabrese. Look, we heard rumors that there was an investigation into the department. Everyone was getting a little nervous. Calabrese runs a tight ship. I don’t know what Marty was doing hanging around Adriana’s house after she went missing, but I never once thought he killed her. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone—especially you—drag his name through the mud.”

I raise my hands. “I don’t want to drag anyone’s name through the mud. Especially not Dad’s. I just needed to know what happened to my mother. And now I do. So thank you for your honesty.”

“This is Lee’s fault. He shouldn’t have pulled you into this.”

“Is Lee involved with Calabrese?”

Dorsey snorts. “No way. That kid’s a Boy Scout. Look, Calabrese would be doing what he was doing with or without us. You gotta understand that. So what if he slipped us a few dollars to look the other way? What’s the harm? Your dad was getting his life in order. Eventually, he was planning to tuck some money away for you.”

I inhale sharply. He’s just confirmed everything on tape. “I get it,” I say slowly, trying not to react. “Look, I’m not complaining.”

“We work our fucking asses off. And we get paid like dogs.”