Look For Me (Detective D.D. Warren #9)(80)

“Any word?” the high school counselor asked me. She looked tired, dark smudges bruising her eyes. A long night from taking care of two unexpected canines? Or from worrying about what had happened to Roxy? How close did a guidance counselor get to her students anyway?

I still thought she looked young for her job. Which was ironic, given she was probably only a few years older than me. But then, I never thought of myself as young. And I definitely couldn’t imagine working in a high school.

“No new information on Roxy,” I said. “Dogs okay?”

“They’ve been great. Shuffled around a bit, getting the lay of the land. Then both went straight to sleep. I think yesterday wore them out.”

“You okay?”

She shrugged. “I keep thinking . . . I should’ve done more. I knew Roxy was stressed out. I’d heard about the gang, some of the rumors involving her younger sister. I don’t know. I spoke to her mom when the girls first started at the school in December. Juanita seemed engaged, trying to do the best by her children. Honestly, I worried about Roxy, but I didn’t worry. Compared to some of my other kids, she seemed to have so many resources. A home, a family, even her dogs.”

She patted Rosie on top of her head. “And now . . . I can’t believe it. The whole family. Murdered. Gone. Just like that. I can’t believe it.”

“I heard from Mike Davis,” I said, my way of thanking her for reaching out to him on my behalf.

“How is he doing with everything? I tried to ask, but he’s not much of a communicator.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“The more I consider it, the more I think Roxy probably was his best friend.” She stared at me expectantly.

I shrugged. “It was my first time meeting him. I’d say he’s worried about her. Bouncy. Definitely bouncy. But maybe he’s always like that.”

Tricia smiled faintly. “I think it’s safe to assume he falls somewhere on the spectrum. But he’s a good kid. And Roxy . . . they seem to get each other. Which is what you need to survive high school. At least one person looking out for you.”

“What about Anya Seton?” I asked.

“The senior? Aspiring actress, star of most of the school plays?”

“That’s the one.”

“I know her, but I wouldn’t say well.”

“She knows Mike Davis. They’re in the same foster home.”

Tricia stilled, didn’t say anything. Student–guidance counselor confidentiality? I wondered.

“You ever see them together?” I asked. “Mike and Anya?”

“No. Never. Don’t hang in the same circles at all.”

“What about Roxy and Anya?”

Now the guidance counselor arched a brow. “Definitely not. Last year, when Roxy first showed up at the high school, she and Anya had some kind of altercation. I didn’t see it. But words were exchanged, one pushed the other. Something along the lines of Anya telling Roxy to leave her boyfriend alone.”

“Roxy and Roberto?” I asked in surprise.

“Only in Anya’s head,” Tricia assured me. “Anya and Roberto had been an item for years. She was known to be possessive of him.”

“She must’ve been upset when he shot himself.”

“She missed school for over a week. I finally had to pay a visit—”

“To Mother Del’s?” I asked.

Again the hesitation. “I spoke with Anya. We worked out a plan for her return.”

“She thinks Lola and Roxy had something to do with Roberto’s death,” I said bluntly. “Their girl gang killed him, then covered it up to look like a suicide. Some conspiracy theory like that.”

Tricia thinned her lips. “Anya is very dramatic,” she said at last.

“You think Roberto took his own life?”

“I think it’s sad anytime a young person dies. I think grief can make it tempting to blame someone else for the loss.”

“Because if Roberto had really shot himself, that would mean Anya’s love wasn’t powerful enough to save him?”

“There’s that. But also . . . if this gang had something to do with Roberto’s death . . . Let’s just say these aren’t girls who’d feel a need to hide their work.”

I got what she was saying. “They would want the credit. Use his murder as an example—this is what happens when you mess with one of ours.”

Tricia nodded. “Sad, but true.”

“Justified or not, Anya still hates Roxy and Lola and blames them for Roberto’s death. Maybe enough to seek revenge?”

The high school counselor shrugged. “Anya Seton is a very passionate teenager, with a flair for theatrics. Catfights, yes. Whisper campaigns, definitely. But to walk into a home and shoot an entire family in cold blood?” She shook her head. “I don’t know if this makes any sense, but I don’t think that would’ve been dramatic enough for her. Especially given that she didn’t get to take a bow at the end.”

“She would’ve torn up the place.”

“She would’ve used red spray paint to scrawl murderer, liar, whore across the front of the house. That would be more her speed.”

“Did Roxy and Anya cross paths often in school?”