“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.”
“You burned a guy to death,” one of the girls said.
“I’ve learned a few things since then,” I repeated. I rubbed Blaze’s long silky ears. He sighed against me.
“We liked Lola,” Carmen offered abruptly. “If we thought one of those—”
“Malvadas?” I offered.
She spat. “—putas did this, you wouldn’t need to ask any questions. The matter would already be resolved.”
“Did Lola do drugs?”
A shrug, which could’ve meant anything. “She was not as reckless as her sister thought,” Carmen said.
“She sold drugs?”
Another shrug.
“She have a boyfriend?”
“Oh, they all wanted Lola. But again, she was not as reckless as her sister thought. She knew how to handle herself. That girl never gave up something for nothing.”
“She used boys.”
“What else are they good for?”
“She was only thirteen,” I heard myself say.
“Weren’t we all once?”
I didn’t have a comeback for that, and she knew it. Age, innocence, was a matter of perspective. And we were all realists here.
“Was Lola involved in Roberto’s death? Did she—I don’t know—drive him to shoot himself? Or maybe did the deed herself and then covered it up?”
Carmen’s face hardened. The girls stared at me, tension ramping up.
“I’m not a cop,” I said. “And I really don’t give a flying fuck if she, or any of you, killed the asshole. From what I’ve heard, he got what he deserved.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“Because murder’s like that. It raises questions. Which, the sooner they’re answered, the sooner they go away.”
“I don’t give away something for nothing either.”
“What do you want?” Though I already knew. And I’d been prepared to pay to play, but now, suddenly, I changed my mind. They claimed to be Lola’s sisters, and yet they hadn’t saved her. They weren’t worthy of what I had to tell.
“Roxanna Baez,” Carmen said. “Give us Roxy. Clearly you know more than you’re saying.”
“No.”
“Then we’re done—”
“No.”
“Excuse me?” That ripple of agitation again. Girl on the left, shifting her grip, showing off her very short, very sharp blade.
I stared right at the armed lieutenant as I said: “Roxy’s not yours. You said it yourself. She hadn’t joined Las Ni?as Diablas. But she did seek me out. That makes her my sister, not yours.”
Carmen took a menacing step off the porch.
“I have a gang, too.” I was feeling reckless now. “We don’t dress nearly as cool as you, let alone that whole microtat thing. But we’re survivors. Each and every one of us. And Roxy found us. She was looking for help to save her family. In particular, I think she was trying to save Lola.”
“She failed.”
“Lola was one of you. Means you failed, too.”
Carmen took a second step off the porch, her girls shifting around her, taking up strike positions.
I shook my head in warning. “No. You don’t get to hide behind attitude. A gang is family. A survivors group is family. We do everything we can for family. So tell me what I need to know about Lola. She died with her arms wrapped around her baby brother. She died trying to shield him with her own body. You should be proud of her for that. You should respect her.”
Carmen paused. The expression on her face wavered.
“Manny was a good kid,” one of the girls murmured from behind her. They wouldn’t look at me anymore. I’d hit the right buttons, triggered their sense of shame.
“What do you think you’re doing, standing here, saying these things?” Carmen tried to rally.
“Was Lola involved in Roberto’s death?” I repeated. “Stage his suicide? Because that would give plenty of people incentive to kill her. Come on. You have rivals. You know how motive works.”
“She hated him. He beat her when she was little. Did worse. Messed that girl up.”
“So she killed him. Who knew?”
“No! It didn’t get that far.”
“What do you mean? He was sharing nude photos. What more incentive did she need?”