Look For Me (Detective D.D. Warren #9)(105)

Which, perversely, makes me jealous. Because at least my mom and sister know one trick for letting go of their troubles. Whereas me, I can only continue to shoulder my load, carrying it around day after day after day.

Can you get back the things you’ve lost? Everyone talks about the resilience of youth. Manny certainly seems to have rebounded just fine. And maybe he gets that from our mom, because each day she presents a cheerful, determined front. I screwed up, kids. So sorry. My bad. Never again.

Only Lola and I remain adrift. Two dolls who can’t seem to get our limbs in working order. Some nights, I can feel the darkness roll off my sister in waves. And some nights, my own emptiness feels just as deep. In the mornings, we both get up, unpack, repack our bags. Then get on with our day.

Toward the end of the school year, June something of Year 1, as my mother calls it, the unexpected happens. I’m walking home when I happen to look up. There. Across the street. I see him immediately. Not close enough to make out his face, but I don’t need to see his eyes, his nose, his jaw. The constant bouncing motion tells me enough.

I go still. I stare straight at him. He looks right back. And I know instantly who’s comforting the babies. I know who Anya and Roberto are hurting. And I know who will never escape to a tiny beige apartment, because he has no mother left.

I never called. I never stopped by. I didn’t even invite him over to dinner, though I, of all people, know how badly he could use the break from Mother Del’s. Coming over to our apartment wouldn’t even be that difficult; he could simply meet my mom at St. Elizabeth’s, take the bus with her at the end of her shift.

But I’ve never suggested it. Never even said his name. I can’t. I’m too afraid any reminder of Mother Del’s will send Lola back over the edge. And as always, I put my sister first.

Now, I lift my hand in greeting.

He raises his hand in reply.

Neither of us makes a move to close the distance.

There’s family that you have. And there’s family that is made. Mike Davis is my family. He saw me when no one else did. He helped me when no one else dared. And he let me go because he knew I needed to take care of my sister, more than I could care about him. Care about anyone.

Standing across the street from him now, I bottle up all my confusion and pain and fear. And for just one moment, I will myself to find anything that’s bright, happy, and sparkling. I do it for the boy who still lives in the dark. For him, I imagine an electric blue ball crackling with goodwill and high energy. Then I fling it across the street to him.

From the girl who will never forget you. From the girl who still considers you a friend. From the girl you saved, and you should be proud of that because now she can save her own family.

All of that from me to the boy who can never stop bouncing.

When I open my eyes, Mike is gone. But I like to think he understood.

There’s the family that you have. And the family that you make. Maybe neither are perfect. But Mike and me, we’ve always been close enough.





Chapter 37


WHERE IS SHE?”

I was barely out the back door before Mike was in front of me, rocking up and down on his heels, drumming his fingers, clearly agitated.

“I went. She wasn’t there. I have food, water, supplies. I’m supposed to help. Is she okay? Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?”

I raised a calming hand. At the last moment, I realized I probably shouldn’t place it on his shoulder. He might spook and dash like a frightened colt straight into the fence.

“Roxy is safe,” I said.

“Have you seen her? She can’t go to Mother Del’s. Never be alone at Mother Del’s.”

“Of course not. Mike, are you okay?”

He stared at me, eyes overbright. I wondered again if he was on something. Or maybe off something, which in his case could be just as disruptive. I took a deep breath, willed some of my calmness into him.

“You’re a good friend to Roxy, aren’t you, Mike? For years you’ve been trying to help her. You knew where she was hiding out.”

Quick nod.

“Setting her up in the theater was very smart,” I continued smoothly. “Of course you couldn’t bring her to Mother Del’s. And both of you have good reason not to trust the police.”

His fingers slowed slightly in their beat against the tops of his legs.

“Things change, though. Given everything that’s happened, Roxanna needs the police on her side. She’s innocent. You know that. I know that. We need the police to see that, as well.”

He frowned, his gaze dashing around the yard, settling on anything but me.

“This morning, I arranged for Roxy to meet with Sergeant D. D. Warren, the Boston detective in charge of the case. The sergeant is starting to believe Roxy’s story. She also tested Roxy’s hands for gunpowder residue. Roxy tested clean. She didn’t hurt her family.”

“Roxy would never hurt her family.”

“What about Roberto? Would she hurt Roberto?”

Fingers drumming again, which didn’t surprise me. After talking to the school counselor, I had some new thoughts on this subject.

“Mike, did you and Roxy hear what Roberto told Ms. Lobdell Cass in her office that day? When Roberto was waiting to meet with the principal after having gotten in trouble for posting Roxy’s photo? Did you two hear Roberto threaten her?”