Girls Like Us(72)

“You’re going to be okay,” she says, her voice rife with alarm. “Help’s on its way.”

“I know.” I let my eyes close. “It’s over. I’ll be fine.”





30.



Ann-Marie Marshall is sitting in the same booth at the same coffee shop where we met two months ago. This time, it’s open. A cluster of teens hang out around one of the tables. The lunch counter is nearly full. When I slide into the banquette, I see that Ann-Marie has already ordered me a hot black coffee. I smile appreciatively.

“It’s good to see you,” she says. I can hear the relief in her voice. “I wasn’t sure we’d get to do this again.”

“Me, either.”

“After Jamie Milkowski was murdered, I ran. Got straight in my car and didn’t stop driving until I reached my sister’s house in Vermont.”

“I don’t blame you. You might’ve been next.”

She stares into her coffee. “Instead, they went after you and Lee Davis.”

We’re quiet for a minute. I listen to the buoyant chatter of the teenagers in the next booth. Their laughter soothes me. “Do you know if they’ve made any progress on the Milkowski investigation?” I ask.

“Not really,” she says, her voice quiet. “There were no witnesses. I mean, everyone assumes that it was Dorsey or DaSilva. But no one can prove anything and they’ve stopped talking.”

“DaSilva admitted to planting the car bombs. He might as well confess to running down Milkowski, too.”

“He had to admit to the car bombs. They found a third one exactly like it in his garage.” She cocks her head and stares at me. “What about your father’s death? Have you heard anything there?”

“No. But I don’t expect to.”

“I’m sorry. That must be hard. Not having closure.”

“I do have closure. I know what kind of a man he was, at least. I know that he died trying to protect those girls. And the men that did that to him are going to jail for a long time, regardless.”

“May I suggest something? Just for you to consider.”

I already know what she’s about to say. She alluded to it on the phone without outright proposing it. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“I’m going up to Shawangunk Correctional in a couple of weeks. To speak to Sean Gilroy. He’s agreed to let me interview him again.”

“Are you writing another piece about my mother’s case?”

“No.” She shakes her head firmly. “I’m writing about police brutality in Suffolk County. About their ninety-four percent confession rate. Sean Gilroy is part of that story.”

I swirl my coffee around, considering. “Why do you want me there?”

“I don’t. I just think it might be helpful for you to talk to him. He’s spent the last two decades atoning for what he did. I’m not saying you should forgive him, but it might bring you peace to talk to him, to see how he’s changed, and to know that he’s sorry.”

I turn it over in my head. The truth of it is that I think I have forgiven him, as much as anyone can forgive someone who takes the life of a loved one. I don’t know if there’s anything to be gained by hearing him apologize. I’m still taking things one day at a time. “I’ll think about it,” I say. It’s the best that I can do.

“Okay.” Ann-Marie nods. “Have you heard anything further about James Meachem? He still off sunbathing in some country without extradition?”

“As far as I know.”

“I have to ask: what made you suspect Grace Bishop?”

I smile, take a sip of my coffee. “Is this on or off the record?”

“Whatever you want. I’d love to interview you. You know that. But I’m also happy to just talk. I can’t help it, I’m curious.”

“My phone rings constantly now. I had to unplug it. And my cell phone is turned off most of the day. It’s been a circus. I haven’t given an interview yet. I’m not sure I ever will. But if I do, it will be with you.”

“I appreciate that. I imagine it’s been crazy for you. You’re at the center of a major political scandal.”

“And it’s just beginning. Eliot Bishop’s arrest is the first of many. Meachem had a lot of connections. Every politician and CEO he’s ever had over should be running scared.”

“Do you think Eliot Bishop was an accomplice?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s not my case anymore. It never was, really.”

“Like hell. You solved it.”

“Just followed a hunch.”

“So what made you suspect her?”

“Besides the fact that she’s tall, left-handed, an expert marksman, and on the board of the Preservation Society?” I deadpan.

Ann-Marie chuckles. “Yes. Besides that.”

“Honestly, at first I didn’t. I liked her. She’s very charming. And I thought she wanted to help. But once we realized that there were two bodies in Palm Beach that had been disposed of similarly, it narrowed the pool to people who frequent both areas. We started searching national databases and found another case near Grace’s family ranch in Texas. That’s when it clicked. Grace was so defensive of Morales and so eager to point the finger at Meachem. If Morales was really just some landscaper she’d met a couple of times, why would she be so adamant about his character?”