Look For Me (Detective D.D. Warren #9)(51)

“Claims he didn’t see the shooter.”

I heard the skepticism in D.D.’s voice. Heaven help me, I was beginning to copy that tone myself.

“But the blue thread in the empty office space, it came from Roxanna’s backpack?” I pressed.

D.D. flashed me a droll smile. Held up her watch again. “Here’s your investigative lesson for the day: Evidence processing doesn’t happen in two hours or less. More like, ask me in the morning, and even then it’s only because the high-profile nature of this case will have the lab techs working overnight.”

“For the record, vigilantes don’t have those kinds of issues.”

“You’d process it yourself?” Phil asked.

“Nah. But a blue thread that matches the same shade as Roxy’s backpack is good enough. We’d just check that box yes and carry on.”

Fresh eye roll. He was good at that.

“Did you learn anything useful?” D.D. prodded impatiently.

“I think so. I met with Mike Davis, Roxanna’s friend from the high school. Turns out, he also lived in the same foster home as Roxanna and Lola.”

This earned me immediate attention from both detectives.

“What did he have to say?” D.D. demanded.

“More what he didn’t say. In a murder investigation, you’re looking for recent changes in the victim’s life, right? For example, we know Roxanna has been running around, all stressed out, requesting help for a friend.”

“I don’t need a tutorial.”

“We also know that Lola, the younger sister, was acting out, and the mom was starting to ask questions about the time the girls had spent in foster care.”

D.D. rolled her hand to hurry me along. Phil was openly scowling. Apparently, the older detective didn’t approve of my new role as CI. Which made me wink at him as I delivered my findings.

“I think they’re all the same thing. Five years ago, when Juanita lost custody of the kids, the girls were placed in a home here in Brighton—a.k.a. Mother Del’s. Which, according to Roxanna’s friend Mike Davis, was filled with some pretty mean kids. Dickensian mean. Sounds like two of them, Roberto and Anya, ruled the roost and beat up weaker kids for sport.”

D.D. exchanged a look with Phil. So far, my report didn’t surprise them, which burst some of my bubble. I continued on.

“I’m told Roxanna and Lola fought back by slipping such things as Ex-lax and ipecac syrup into the bigger kids’ food, in order to incapacitate them. Didn’t always work, though.”

The detectives nodded for me to continue.

“It’s the location that matters,” I pressed on, earnest now. “When Juanita sobered up, she didn’t just get the girls back, she took them away. She couldn’t afford Brighton as a single mom.”

D.D. tilted her head.

“But then she met Charlie the contractor in the ER. And last December . . .”

“She moved in with him,” D.D. filled in. “Returning the kids to Brighton.” She and Phil exchanged a glance again.

“Where at least Roxanna attends the same high school as her former nemeses, Roberto and Anya,” I finished triumphantly.

“What about Lola?” Phil asked.

“I’m told that mean kids have mean younger friends. So most likely she had her own encounters in the middle school. But essentially, whether Juanita understood it or not, she returned her girls into enemy territory. And they were scared. At the high school, Roxanna aligned herself with her former ally, Mike Davis, who’d tried to help her at Mother Del’s. According to him, she looked out for Lola, he looked out for Roxy. But for Lola that wasn’t enough. Hence, according to Mike, Lola joined a gang.”

“From the frying pan into the fire,” Phil murmured.

“Was Lola doing drugs?” D.D. asked with a frown.

“Roxy couldn’t find any evidence her sister was using. But Lola might have been dealing. Lola had told Roxanna that as long as she was so pretty, she might as well use her looks to her advantage. From the sound of it, Lola was tired of feeling helpless. Joining a gang gave her protection. Rising up the ranks to run a gang—power.”

“She wanted revenge,” D.D. said.

I shrugged.

“What about the two other kids from the foster home,” Phil asked. “Roberto? Anya? Where are they now?”

“Roberto’s dead. Shot himself a few months back. Which I’m sure Anya must blame on anyone but him. Maybe he got into it with Lola and her gang? Or had some kind of showdown with Roxy? I don’t know. But Lola and Roxy return and within months Roberto’s dead? Isn’t part of policing never believing in coincidences?”

D.D. arched a brow. “You think Lola and Roxy might have had something to do with a kid’s suicide?”

“Why not? Timing is suspicious.”

“There’s also a rule about conjecture,” Phil supplied dryly.

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if Roxy or Lola had something to do with it or not. What’s relevant is what Roberto’s friend—girlfriend?—Anya believes. She and Roberto feuded with Lola and Roxy before. If she thought they were somehow involved with his death . . .”

“She would have motive to gun down Lola and Roxy,” D.D. filled in.