Look For Me (Detective D.D. Warren #9)(77)

“So she’s a professional foster care provider, so to speak. Takes in the kids, piles them up, cashes the checks.”

“She makes sixty to seventy thousand a year, tax free,” Meekham agreed.

“No mortgage on the house?”

“No.”

“So where does the money go? It’s not a huge amount for Boston, but with no mortgage, she should be doing pretty well. Based on what I saw, at least, she’s not spending the money on feeding the kids.”

“She has a modest savings account. Buys a new van every five years. Property taxes are more substantial than you might think. Also, according to her credit card, she spends a lot of money at Walmart, ostensibly on baby supplies, kid clothes, et cetera. All in all, her financial records are clean. No large deposits, no large withdrawals.”

D.D. frowned. That seemed to eliminate any chance of, say, a sex ring or child pornography, which would leave behind a trail of unexplained income.

“I’m still working on tracking down any additional accounts,” Meekham said, as if reading her mind. “It’s possible she has offshore banking, Bitcoins, hell if I know. As I said, I’ve only had the case a matter of weeks.”

“She might have other accounts under different names, aliases,” D.D. supplied.

“Exactly.”

“How about complaints against Mother Del?”

“Plenty. But none that caused immediate concern. She’s been written up for overcrowding, received citations for lack of cleanliness. Several notes that the food, meals, barely meet minimum requirements. She’s been investigated twice after children in her care were taken to the emergency room. Nothing that ever rose to the level of inciting disciplinary action, however. To review her file, she’s not the best foster care provider in town. But she’s not the worst either, and in an overstretched system, someone like her can slide by.”

“What were your next steps?”

“I was trying to find the photos.”

“Photos?” D.D. asked in surprise.

“Umm . . .” She could hear the sound of a man digging through papers. “One thing my investigator did find, talking to the high school counselor Tricia Lobdell Cass: There was a rumor this past spring that a fellow student was bragging about having inappropriate photos of both Lola and Roxanna Baez. Interestingly enough, this boy had also been staying at Mother Del’s during the time they were there.”

“Was his name Roberto?” D.D. asked with a sinking feeling.

“Roberto Faillon. Yes. Now talk about a rap sheet. Kid already had a file a mile thick for petty theft, assault, disorderly conduct, vandalism, you name it. Regular hoodlum in the making. According to Ms. Lobdell Cass, there was some buzz at the end of the school year about these photos. You know how high schools can be. There are group texts where information can be disseminated. Social media accounts all the kids know about, where they can continue the day’s torture from the comfort of their own homes. The rumor was that Roberto posted an inappropriate photo of a seminude female classmate on some school loop for other students to see, but the quality of the image wasn’t good enough to make out the face of the girl. When the school got wind of it, the principal pulled Roberto into his office. But Roberto claimed innocence. The photo had already disappeared from the internet. Probably to be posted under a new social media account the very next day.”

“Did the principal seize Roberto’s phone?”

“I’m told the principal went through Roberto’s phone, with the boy’s permission. Couldn’t find anything. Gave it back.”

“Which means nothing at all,” D.D. said. “Roberto could’ve uploaded the photos to the cloud to retrieve later, swapped out phones, a million other tricks.”

“To look at Roberto’s file, I would assume he was well versed in tricks.”

“So it’s possible he did have some photos, maybe taken while he and the girls were all together at Mother Del’s.” D.D. shook her head. The rumor mill could be harsh in high school. Lola and Roxy wouldn’t be the first two girls to find themselves victims of a shaming campaign, regardless of whether such photos even existed. No wonder Roxy was stressed out.

And no wonder Lola had been driven to join a gang.

“What happened next?” she asked, though she had a pretty good idea.

“Roberto shot himself. Late May, early June? And all the rumors and innuendo died with him.”

“The photos?” D.D. asked. “Someone must’ve ended up with his phone.”

“Had the same thought myself. In fact, just put in a call to the local PD last week trying to find out if they seized his phone as part of processing the scene. According to the school counselor, the photos seemed to disappear with Roberto’s death. But if the images still exist somewhere, and they are from the girls’ time in foster care . . . Roxy was only eleven. Lola, eight. By definition, those photos would be child porn. Highly illegal, not to mention a very powerful tool in my client’s case.”

“But you haven’t found the phone.”

“It seems to have disappeared. Roberto had a girlfriend, Anya Seton. To date, she’s been less than cooperative with my investigator.”

“I’ve met her,” D.D. volunteered. “‘Less than cooperative’ would be an understatement.” She chewed her lower lip. Kiko had returned, was actively nudging her hand. She’d forgotten about her throwing duties. D.D. got back to work.