Look For Me (Detective D.D. Warren #9)(82)

I noticed now that the girl to the left appeared to be holding something fisted at her side—a short blade of some kind would be my guess—while another girl had one arm tucked behind her. Another knife, tucked into the waist of her jeans? Or maybe a .22? I kept my hands in front of me, where everyone could see them.

I might know self-defense, but I was hardly a martial arts expert ready to take on five armed gangbangers. My best weapons right now would be words. Which, interestingly enough, Jacob could also be really good at when he chose. Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly . . .

“My name is Flora Dane,” I started, then waited a beat. Sometimes people recognized it, sometimes they didn’t.

Carmen frowned, stared at me harder.

“I’m an abduction survivor,” I continued. “Last year, I also helped rescue a Boston College student.”

Bigger frown. Clearly she didn’t recognize my name, nor did she know what to make of me. Police, social workers, teachers, all clearly the enemy. But an abduction survivor . . . Next to her, the girl fidgeted with the blade in her hand.

“Do we look like we’ve been kidnapped to you?” Carmen asked finally.

“I’m also a friend of Roxanna Baez.”

“Those are her dogs,” one of the girls commented. “Lola sometimes walked them.”

“Lola’s dead,” Carmen said, still staring at me.

“Yes. Lola, her younger brother, her mother, the mom’s boyfriend.”

“Roxy did it.” But it was a question, not a statement.

“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

Now I got an arched brow, but at least no one was throwing knives or opening fire. I walked slightly closer, aware of the girl with the blade on the left and the other girl with the hidden weapon on the right. Rosie nosed around the barren dirt. Blaze, however, leaned heavily against me. Poor guy had no idea where he was. Did he sense the mood? He lifted his head toward the heat of the sun, wagged his tail feebly.

I patted the top of his head, drawing comfort from his presence. When I glanced back up, Carmen was looking at the dogs, too. Her shoulders had come down.

“Are they gonna be okay?” she asked, her face unreadable.

“They have a temporary home for now. Until things get settled.”

“We don’t have Roxy. But if you’re really her friend, you must know that.” Chin back up, more of a challenge now.

“I’m not sure Roxy knows who her friends are right now. Given the circumstances.”

“Why are you here?” Carmen asked.

“I’m trying to help. I know Lola was one of you. The mark on her cheek.”

Carmen shrugged. “So?”

“Someone murdered her. One of your own gets killed, doesn’t that make it your business?”

“Depends. What I heard on the news made it sound like a family matter.”

“Really? You know Roxy. You know Lola. Would Roxy shoot her own sister? Her baby brother?”

Carmen didn’t answer right away, but I could tell my point had registered. “If not her, then who?” she asked at last.

“That’s my question.”

“You think we did it!” She was already on her feet.

“You tell me.”

“Hija de puta,” she spat. The girls around her shifted restlessly. Blade coming up on the left, while the girl on the right started to draw something out from behind her back . . .

I stood my ground. “Hey, my mom went on national TV for me. She had to wear mom jeans because the FBI agents made her. Don’t go insulting her like that.”

Carmen blinked at me, clearly confused, which checked the entire group, now watching me warily. “Lola was our sister,” Carmen announced. “We do not turn on each other. Not without reason.”

“Did you have reason?”

“No!”

“All right. But maybe you know some things that might help me figure out who did.”

“Like what?” Carmen was still scowling, but she slowly retook her seat on the top step.

“Lola was one of you. We can all agree on that. But what about Roxy? Had she joined?”

“She was considering her options. We came highly recommended by her sister. And I gotta say, we offer a pretty decent benefit plan.”

I took that to mean Roxy still wasn’t sporting any beauty marks. “I don’t know gangs,” I admitted. “Serial killers, rapists, kidnappers, predators, yes. Gangs, no.”

This earned me fresh interest from the whole group.

“So forgive me if I don’t ask this the best way, but did you guys—or Lola—piss anyone off recently? Like a rival gang who might have targeted her over some slight, whatever?”

Carmen actually smiled. “You don’t know shit,” she agreed.

“What can I tell you? Jacob Ness was a loner.”

“Four hundred and seventy-two days,” she said abruptly. “I saw you. On TV. Four hundred and seventy-two days.”

I nodded.

“What kind of idiot gets herself abducted on a public beach?” Carmen asked bluntly.

“A drunk one. A weak one. An idiot that didn’t know any better. But you don’t need to worry about me. I’ve learned a few things since then.”