Look For Me (Detective D.D. Warren #9)(76)

“Drugs?” she asked.

“No needle marks, but again, awaiting results from the tox screen.”

“The beauty mark on her cheek?” D.D. asked.

“Yes. Phil contacted me about that late last night. I took a look via a magnifying glass and your information is correct. What originally appears as a black blemish is in fact a tattoo. Fascinating, actually. Along the same principle as engraving a name on a grain of sand. In a nearly perfect circle, the tattoo artist has stamped Las Ni?as Diablas. I can’t imagine there are too many tattoo parlors out there doing this level of work. It’s the first of its kind I’ve seen.”

“Could it be homemade? You know, prison style with ballpoint ink and a needle?”

“No, you’d need a very fine instrument, not to mention a lighted magnifying glass. Also, given that the skin would swell as it’s being inked, either the mark would have to be formed over time to allow for such cramped writing, or it’s possible it was done all at once, via a tattooing stamp. I’ve heard of such things but never seen them myself. It’s artistry, I can tell you that.”

“So I’m looking for an artistic gangbanger. Great.”

“The gang task force keeps a database of markings. I’ve added this to the file.”

“Thanks.” Kiko was back, staring at her. D.D. reached once more for the ball. “It was Lola,” she murmured to no one in particular. “The shooter was after Lola, the rest of the family was collateral damage.”

“You don’t think the oldest sibling, Roxanna Baez, was involved?” Ben asked.

“I don’t know anymore. There’s no obvious motive for her to shoot her own siblings. On the other hand, she was clearly under stress and had ongoing tensions with her younger sister. We also have evidence she was hiding out near the scene of Hector Alvalos’s shooting, which was also done with a nine millimeter.”

“Maybe the same handgun?”

“Quite possible. We have drug angles, gang angles, deep-dark-family-secret angles. Plenty of angles. Just no traction. Anything you learn, I’d love to hear it. Sooner the better.”

“Like you’ve ever had it any other way.”

Her phone buzzed. An incoming call. She glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Phil given it still wasn’t even seven. To her surprise, the name of a law firm flashed across her screen. Juanita’s lawyer, whom they’d left several messages for just yesterday.

“Gotta go,” she told Ben. “Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Then Ben was gone. D.D. picked up the next call and resumed playing with her dog.

“Sergeant Detective D. D. Warren.” D.D. answered her phone crisply.

“Daniel Meekham. Of Meekham, Croft, and Bane. I’m returning your call from yesterday. I was in Florida for the week. Just got in late last night.” Pause. “Heard the news.”

“So you know Juanita was shot and killed yesterday. Along with her partner, Charlie Boyd, and two of her kids.”

“Yes.”

“Her oldest daughter, Roxanna Baez, is still missing. Do you know her?”

“The kids? No. My only conversations have been with Juanita. And our relationship was still new. I mean, I met her purely by chance in the emergency room a few weeks ago. Bagel. Knife. Oops.”

“You specialize in litigation.”

“Yes.”

“Our understanding is that Juanita was talking to you about a situation involving her two daughters. She believed something might have happened to them five years ago, after the state removed them from her custody and placed them in foster care.”

The lawyer didn’t comment.

“Mr. Meekham, you understand that your client is dead? She has no need for attorney-client privilege. Not to mention we have compelling reasons to believe Roxanna Baez might be in immediate danger. Surely protecting the life of your client’s daughter is more important than protecting your client’s privacy.”

“I understand. Like I said, this is a relatively new case. I’m still thinking it through.”

“Let me help you: Juanita believed her daughter Lola was sexually abused while in the state’s care. Specifically, while she was staying at Mother Del’s foster home. Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“To that end, Juanita has been digging around on her own. Questioning Mother Del, for example.”

“Yes.”

“I imagine you also ran background on the woman.”

“Yes.” That slight hesitation again. “Mother Del, real name Delphinia Agnes, has been a licensed foster care provider for twenty-four years. During that time, she has consistently had a full house, anywhere from six to eight kids.”

“I thought the state didn’t allow more than four kids until recently?”

“There have always been waivers for special circumstances. Now such waivers are simply more common.”

“Does Mother Del have any kids of her own?”

“No kids, never been married. She taught kindergarten before taking disability. Then she got into foster care, completing the training courses.”

“She own that house?”

“House was an inheritance from her own family three decades ago. On paper, she has a brother, but I haven’t located him yet. She is listed as the sole owner of the property.”