"That's the fucking thing," Marcus admitted, dropping his gaze again. "It all fucking connected... it has to be. And I thought it made sense. The girls... Caperucita Roja y Ricitos de Oro. Susie Q and fucking Sullivan St. Claire... they were both with that motherfucker." Marcus snorted at his hands. He could hear how this was going to sound before he said it. He was so fucking spun, and could tell that much. A fog had been surrounding him, blurring his vision, obscuring sense, and now that fog was lifting and he was starting to realize he wasn't anywhere familiar. Nothing here was recognizable. Nothing was right. "He buys Susie a necklace, Jon fucking finds out. She turns up dead. Ricitos... Sully... he's paying her, too. She fucking told me about it. He was taking her out and paying for her time, like she was a fucking whore. She thought it was funny."
A beat, tic in the muscles along the jaw. Anger resurfacing, this time as a response to the guilt. "Then she gets fucked up... he brings her in, sure, but then she gets killed, too. Fucking wrongful death, right after I tell Rob fucking York that she's a guy." The coffee eyes flicked back to Archer, and Marcus turned in his chair, looking at him directly. An electric intensity pushing his posture forward a bit, running through him. "And you don't have to say shit to me about how that wasn't right. She was freaking out because of these books... wanted me to get rid of them for her. Said they were poison. York had them. I knew if I told him about her, he'd back the fuck off. I didn't think he'd have the bitch killed. I liked that bitch. I tried to fucking help her."
A frown, gaze unfocusing for a moment as Marcus tried to glue the frayed strings of his theories back together. Sully and Susie were connected to York, but he didn't know if Dahlia was. Not really. Still, in for a penny, as the saying went. "...When Palmer first went missing, I thought it might be him, too. I don't have shit on him for that," the large man admitted, faltering for just a moment, almost looking sheepish with this confession. He knew it sounded narcissistic. "I'd fucked her, too, though... she was sort of a friend. It felt like he was picking off my exes. That sounds stupid as shit, I know, but I couldn't shake it. There's no solid reason for it. We didn't hate each other. York was almost a fucking friend to me, sometimes. But he was a fucking friend to Jon, too, and Jon's bitch went missing. I just couldn't fucking shake this gut feeling that it was York. Then Bryant..."