God, he was so deep in denial it was hopeless.

“Look, Dad, if I were you, I’d talk to somebody. Your therapist, some other counselor, whoever. I really think you’re still in shock right now but you don’t realize it.”

“Shock?” he said, like he’d never heard the word before. “Why do you-”

“Hello?” her mom shouted. It sounded like she was in the foyer, near the front door. She sounded totally panicked, like something horrible had happened. “Who’s home?!”

Marissa and her dad looked at each other with concerned expressions, then left the kitchen together and met her mom in the living room. Her mom looked frantic and went right up to Marissa and wrapped her arms around her and wouldn’t let go.

“What is it, Mom? What’s wrong?”

Her mother was crying now, but it was worse than the way she’d been crying last night. Last night she was just upset. Now she looked devastated.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” her dad asked, concerned yet calm.

Marissa’s mom let go of her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, leaving smudges of mascara, and her lips were trembling.

“I-I just spoke w-w-w- with that d-d- detective… C-c- c-clements.” She had to catch her breath. “I c-c- alled him about the paper… He called back and… and… she’s d-d- dead.”

Marissa was lost. “Who’s dead?”

“G-g- gabriela,” her mom said. “Somebody shot her. She’s dead.”

Marissa was confused. The only Gabriela she knew was their maid, but that was impossible. Marissa must’ve misunderstood something. Her mother must’ve meant some other Gabriela. Maybe someone from the neighborhood or a friend of a friend. Something like that.

“Gabriela?” Marissa asked. “Gabriela who?”

Her mom couldn’t speak for several seconds, then blurted out, “Our Gabriela.”

The room seemed like it was spinning, and then Marissa wasn’t sure where she was anymore. Her father had to actually grab her to keep her from falling. Somehow they all wound up on the living room couch, Marissa sitting between her mom and her dad.

Her mom was asking her if she was okay, and Marissa, crying, was saying, “It’s not true. Please tell me it’s not true.”

“It’s true,” her mom sobbed. “It’s true, it’s true, it’s true.”

“How do you know it’s true?” her father asked. “Maybe there’s some mistake.”

Her dad wasn’t crying at all, and he didn’t even seem very upset. He sounded weirdly calm, in control.

“He told me,” her mom said. “The detective. He said she was shot this morning in… in her apartment.”

“Maybe there was a screwup,” her dad said. “Maybe it was some other Gabriela.”

“No, I asked,” her mom said emphatically. “He said it was Gabriela Moreno, and he gave me her address in Jackson Heights. It’s not a mistake. She’s dead. Somebody shot her.”

Marissa was still sobbing. Last night had been one of the scariest times of her life, but this was like a total nightmare. Gabriela had been so young, so happy, so healthy. How could she be dead? This wasn’t possible.

Then it hit Marissa, and she said, “Oh my God. You don’t think it has something to do with last night, do you?”

“It has nothing to do with last night,” her dad cut in quickly. “Okay, come on, let’s not get all hysterical before we know all the facts. I want to talk to Clements, find out exactly what’s going on here.”

He was trying so hard to sound in control. Like people were getting shot left and right, but of course he could handle it, it was no big deal.

“He said he’ll be over,” her mom said, “later.”

“Good,” her dad said. “I’m sure there’s a lot we don’t know right now.”

“Didn’t Clements say he was gonna go talk to Gabriela?” Marissa asked. “Isn’t that what he said last night?”

“He didn’t have a chance to talk to her,” her mom said. “He said he was planning to talk to her today when-”

“Then it has to have something to do with it,” Marissa said. “It’s too coincidental.”

Her father stood up and started making a call on his BlackBerry. “Let’s just see one thing, okay?” he said.

“What’re you doing?” her mom asked.

“Let’s see if she picks up her phone.”

“What’s wrong with you?” her mom said. “I’m telling you, she’s dead.”

Her dad ignored her, with the phone to his ear. Then after several seconds he clicked off and said, “Voice mail.”

“Of course her voice mail picked up,” her mom screamed. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Can you guys please just stop fighting?” Marissa asked.

“What’s Gabriela’s cell?” her dad asked, and her mom leaned over her lap, grabbed fistfuls of her hair as if she were trying to pull it all out in total frustration, then made an infuriated gravelly sound in the back of her throat.

“What were you saying before about a paper?” Marissa asked.

Still looking down, her hands still clutching her hair, her mom said, “I had the code to the alarm written on a piece of paper. I realized it was missing this morning, that’s why I called Clements.”

“Okay, think about what you’re saying,” her dad said. He was standing in front of them, looking down at them. “Just think about it for a second without getting hysterical. You know Gabriela, right? You know how wonderful she is, how loyal she is, how trustworthy she is. How many times has she been in this house alone? How many times did she babysit for us, or pick up Marissa from school? She’s worked for us for how many years? Twelve? Thirteen? And in all that time she’s never stolen anything from us. I’m talking not even a dollar bill from on top of my dresser. I mean, there’s probably been hundreds of times that she had total access to my wallet, your pocketbook, your jewelry, and she’s never stolen a cent from us. But now you’re positive, there’s no doubt in your mind, that she conspired with that criminal Sanchez to rob our house? Why? Because they’re both Spanish? I mean, just think about how absurd that is before you start screaming your head off at me, okay?”

Her father ended his speech, seeming proud of himself, as if he’d just delivered a Shakespearean soliloquy or something. But, Marissa had to admit, the idea that Gabriela was part of the robbery did sound ridiculous. She couldn’t imagine any scenario where Gabriela would do something to hurt Marissa’s family.

“He’s right, it does sound pretty crazy,” Marissa said. Then she said to her dad, “So what do you think it was, a big coincidence? She gets shot the morning after our house is robbed, right before the detective has a chance to talk to her?”

“Look, there’s a lot we don’t know right now,” her dad said. “Maybe it has something to do with her daughter, some guy she was dating.”

“Manuela’s eleven,” Marissa said.

“What I’m trying to say,” her dad said, “is let’s just confirm she’s actually dead.”

“It’s confirmed!” her mom suddenly shouted. Her face was red, and her eyes were very big. “How many times do I have to tell you before it gets through your thick skull? She’s dead! She’s fucking dead!”

Her dad shook his head in frustration and exited to the kitchen.

“You’re so goddamn impossible,” her mom said and left, going toward the front of the house.

“Ma,” Marissa called and followed her.

She watched her mother head up the main staircase, hesitate for a moment as if suddenly remembering what had happened there, and then rush upstairs.

Marissa couldn’t believe how absolutely screwed up everything suddenly was. Gabriela had always been so warm, so friendly, and had probably been one of the kindest people Marissa had ever met. Marissa remembered all the times Gabriela played with her and took her places when she was growing up. In high school when she had boyfriend problems, she never felt comfortable talking to her parents, and Gabriela was always there to give advice. Marissa had helped Gabriela learn English, and Gabriela had helped her with her Spanish. She had been a combination big sister and close friend, and Marissa just couldn’t accept the idea that she was gone, as dead as the guy on the stairs last night, that she’d never see her face or hear her voice again.