“No, I—” I felt my cheeks flush. “We actually hadn’t talked since graduation.”
He looked up. “Since 2014? You hadn’t spoken to her in eight years?”
“Yes, but—”
“Well. Shit. At least if you’d said anything different, I would’ve known you were lying. Laurel Hargrove didn’t even own a landline.”
Didn’t own a—“What?”
“You said you had information?”
I sat up straighter, remembering how I’d been on alert just like this, in this same station, in front of this same man, years before. “I can tell you what kind of person Laurel was, who she used to spend time with, what…”
On reflex, I stopped before saying, what happened to us in college. But I’d come here to do what Laurel needed of me, so I took a deep breath. “What we did back then.” That was probably truer, anyway. “I’d like to know where you are with her case.”
“Lady, first of all, I don’t have to tell you nothing.” Chief Dorsey settled back in his seat. “Second, I don’t care what a thirty-year-old woman got up to in college. Unless you have more updated intel, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to skedaddle.”
“Shouldn’t you hear what I have to say?” My voice was steely. I was no longer a scared eighteen-year-old girl. “Isn’t everything pertinent in a murder case?”
The chief slapped down his pen. “A murder case? See, I knew you were one of those podcast people. You crazies have been lighting up our call board for a damn twenty-four hours. If I ever catch that bottlenecked prick who stole our report, I’m going to skin him alive. Vultures, all of you.”
This was the Adam Dorsey I remembered.
“Sir, I’m not a ‘podcast person.’ I’m here with information about Laurel to help you with her murder case. Are you actually turning me down?”
“Her murder.” Chief Dorsey practically spit the word. “It’s a goddamn suicide, like we’ve told every one of you. We made the official ruling this morning. After considering the full evidence, it was cut and dry. A depressed woman hung herself. The end.”
“You made the ruling?” I blinked at him. “What about the cuts all over her arms?”
“You ever climbed a tree and tied a noose to hang yourself? The cuts were from that. Just because some moron with a microphone says he has questions doesn’t change a thing about the facts of the case.”
“Why did you even talk to me, then? Why bring me to your office?”
Dorsey’s eyes gleamed. “You’re the first crazy to show up in person. I wanted the chance to tear you a new one. So here it is: You’re a disgrace with no respect for the law. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
The familiar words were a trigger. I shot from the chair. “You don’t even remember me, do you? Or that Laurel sat in front of you when she was eighteen and cried her heart out, and you did nothing to help her. Do you remember you left us to fend for ourselves?”
Dorsey’s face was bright-red now; his stubby lashes blinked quickly. “I read Laurel’s file, so yes, I’m aware I was her intake officer. But no, I don’t happen to remember her. Do you know how many sobbing women cycle through this place?” The chief stood and gripped the edge of his desk, forearms flexing. “Telling their pitiful stories, reeking of booze. Oh, he hurt me. Oh, he kissed me when I didn’t want him to. Meanwhile they’re standing there in a dress that barely covers their ass, after spending all night pounding beers and flirting and doing God knows what else. And they have the nerve to ask why it keeps happening to them.”
“You’re the disgrace,” I said, mouth moving ahead of my brain. “You’re the one who should be ashamed.”