Look For Me (Detective D.D. Warren #9)(92)

“Las Ni?as Diablas are known for their knife work,” I said from the floor.

Roxy smiled faintly. “I said that’s what Lola told me. I didn’t say I believed her.”

“Your thirteen-year-old sister acquired a twenty-two and brought it into the house? And you, what, buried it in the garden?”

“It was our compromise. She wouldn’t give it up. Swore she had to have it. I finally got her to agree to keep it out of the house.”

“Sounds to me like your sister was scared.” D.D.’s voice softened almost imperceptibly. “You scared, too, Roxy?”

Roxy nodded, and for just one moment, her shoulders trembled.

“My mom was so happy,” she whispered. “‘I met this great guy. He even has his own house. Three whole bedrooms.’ All we had to do was move back to Brighton. Lola and I . . . We didn’t have the heart to tell her. We’d made a promise, sworn never to talk of those days. How could we bring them up now?” She looked at D.D. “We should’ve talked. We should’ve told everything. But Mother Del’s was four years ago. We thought we were bigger, older, stronger. We honestly thought we could handle it this time.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Roberto. First day at high school, there he was. He actually walked right on by me, his arm around Anya’s shoulders. Then I saw the click. The moment of recognition. The two of them slowed, turned around. He stared at me. Then he smiled. Just like those days at Mother Del’s. That smile that isn’t really a smile. And I knew I was in trouble. I knew it. I just didn’t know how bad.”

“What happened at Mother Del’s?” D.D. asked.

Roxy ignored the question. “I found Mike Davis next. Once I saw Roberto and Anya, reaching out to Mike made the most sense. Of course he still lived at Mother Del’s. He didn’t have any parents left, no get-out-of-jail card for him, he liked to say. He was so skinny. I swear, he must’ve stopped eating the day I left. But we hugged and he bounced and . . . and . . . it seemed more manageable. The two of us had dealt with Roberto and Anya before. We could do this. And Lola wasn’t even in the high school. I told Mike we’d figure this out.

“But, of course, the whispers started. Then Lola came home three days in a row, her clothes torn, knuckles scraped. Kids were talking, she said. About her. About us. About what kind of girls we’d been while in foster care.

“I thought she might break again. Return to being a shadow of herself. But this time . . . she didn’t want to retreat. She was all about the fight. Our mom was called into the principal’s office week after week. New school, the principal assured her. Lola just needed time to settle in. I didn’t know about that. But it turned out, my little sister packs a mean punch. The more they pushed, the harder she retaliated, and within a matter of months, she’d made a reputation for herself. So much so, Las Ni?as Diablas wanted her.

“I tried to talk her out of it. She saw the power. When she was with them, she felt special, she told me. Then she came home to me. She practically spat the word. The big sister who was always telling her what to do, treating her like a baby. I’d spent so much of my life trying to take care of her, when I guess, all along, I’d only made her feel weak.

“She wasn’t going back, she told me. She was never again going to be little Lola, rocking babies at Mother Del’s. She wanted to become a she-devil instead.”

Roxy smiled mirthlessly. “And then, of course, just to seal the deal: Roberto. And that damn photo.”

“It was a picture of you.” I spoke up softly from the floor.

Roxy didn’t say anything right away. “You want to know what happened at Mother Del’s? Everything you think. Every terrible story you’ve read about abused, neglected, assaulted kids. Roberto ran the show. And he was too big for any of us to fight with brute strength, so we did our best to incapacitate him with medications and sleep aids. But we couldn’t win all nights. Someone had to pay the price. Lola was only eight. It wouldn’t be her. I promised myself that.”

“He raped you,” D.D. said.

Roxy shrugged. “He had a way of putting it differently. A favor for a favor. As in, if I gave him what he wanted, he would leave my sister alone.”

“You can say the rest,” D.D. instructed gently. “It’s just us girls here, and we all know.”

Roxy looked up at the detective, tears in her eyes. “You do?”

“I’ve been doing this a long time, honey. Roberto isn’t the first one to use this trick.”

I knew what she meant. Beside me, Sarah was nodding. It was just us girls here, and we understood.

“He told Lola the same thing,” Roxy whispered thickly. “The nights he got her alone. Same deal. So she gave in thinking she was saving me, and I gave in to save her . . . And we were both damned, just like that.”

“You loved each other. You looked out for each other. That matters,” D.D. said. She patted Roxy’s hand. I’d never seen the softer side of the detective before. It was strangely unnerving. At that moment, I could see her in my survivors group, dispensing thoughtful advice. And we would all love her.

“Tell me about the photos, honey.”

“I guess I wasn’t surprised that he had some. Of course he’d try to blackmail us. But”—Roxy frowned—“the photos were a double-edged sword. If they really were of Lola and me . . . I was eleven, she was eight. They were child porn. Roberto would get in far more trouble for sharing them than we would. Like felony-level, spend-the-rest-of-his-life-in-jail kind of trouble. I tried to explain that to Lola. But she was too angry. She wouldn’t be weak. She wouldn’t let Roberto hurt her or me ever again. The next day, she joined Las Ni?as.”