“We found a skull, Loyola. In the Centennial Park.” He didn’t say exactly where in the park because he wanted to hear that from her. “Skull was wrapped in a plastic bag. Didn’t take the medical examiner long to tell us the skull belonged to a five-year-old girl.” The desire to back this woman up against a wall and demand a confession was powerful. But he kept it in check. The medical examiner had pulled DNA from the skull’s teeth. “We’ll match that DNA to yours, which is on file.”
Loyola chewed her bottom lip. “I gave her away. She’s living a good life now. And I ain’t giving my DNA to nobody.”
Rick’s grip on his pen tightened as he clicked the end over and over. Click. Click. Click. “She was your daughter. And you can’t tell me who has her now?”
“They wouldn’t tell me who was gonna get her.”
“They? Who are they, Loyola?”
“I don’t remember.”
A smile tipped the edge of his mouth. Click. Click. Click. “No more stories. Let’s talk about the truth. Did you kill your daughter, Loyola?”
“I didn’t . . .” She hesitated. “I’d never hurt Heather. I loved her.”
“She’s dead. Someone killed this child. We found her body.”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “I wouldn’t . . . couldn’t. You’ve made a mistake. You didn’t find my Heather.”
“If you didn’t . . .” He leaned a fraction closer as if they were conspirators. “Then you know who did. Who did you give her to?” She might have given the child away or sold her to people who enjoyed hurting children. He’d seen it before and it never failed to sicken him.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not going to cut it, Loyola.” Again, Rick kept his voice nonthreatening. He didn’t like this woman but he needed her to talk. Not for himself. But for Heather.
“Let’s haul her ass to jail.” Bishop’s anger rumbled like a growl that all but radiated from his body.
Loyola shook her head. “I ain’t going to jail. One more strike and I go to prison.”
“Too damn bad,” Bishop said. “Nothing would make my day better than watching them slam the door on your pathetic face.”
Rick stepped in front of Bishop as if to protect Loyola. “I need you to talk, Loyola. I just need the truth. I don’t want to see you go to prison.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. “I loved Heather.”
“I know you did,” he said softly. “Tell me what happened. When was the last time you saw her?”
The tears flowed as she seemed to claw through the years to dark memories.
“What was she doing the last time you saw her?” Rick asked.
Loyola swiped away a tear. “She was crying.”
“Why was she crying?” he asked softly.
Bishop paced behind Rick as if he were a caged animal. Loyola’s gaze flickered to him and then quickly settled on Rick as if she’d fled to a safe harbor. “I don’t remember.”
“Was she hurt?”
She chewed her bottom lip. “She must’ve been sad. She loved me and didn’t want to go to the new family.”
“Was she hurt?” he repeated, as he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I don’t remember.”
“I think you do.”
“Danny was there,” she whispered.
Bishop stopped pacing but glared at Loyola as if to tell her the threat of jail remained.
“Danny was Heather’s father,” Rick said.
“Yes.”
“What happened?” Rick had to be careful here. He didn’t want to put ideas in her head about what had happened. He wanted all the facts to come from her.
She picked at her sleeve. “Nothing happened. Danny loved Heather.”
Rick’s anger simmered under the surface even as he kept his hand on her shoulder. He was careful to keep his fingers relaxed. He wanted her to think of him as a friend. Getting a pound of flesh right now wouldn’t help Heather. “What happened?”
She squeezed her eyes closed as if the scene played right before her. “Nothing happened.”
Bishop hissed in a breath, his anger as thick as the humidity soaking the night air. Both cops knew Danny Briggs’s rap sheet went back thirty years and was littered with violence and drugs.
Loyola kept her gaze on Rick as if he had become her sole lifeline.
“Where’d you see Heather crying?”
“In her bed. Danny said we needed to find her a new home. And I knew he was right. He took her to the new home.”
“He took her?”
She shrugged. “He took her away. I never knew where. He took her away and I never saw her again.” She looked up at him, her gaze pleading for forgiveness he could never give.
“Did he hurt her?” Rick asked.
She glanced up, her gaze wild, bloodshot and watery. “No. He loved her. He just took her away.”
The likes of Danny Briggs trampled children in their wake.
Rick nodded to Bishop, who quickly grabbed hold of Loyola’s handcuffed arms.
But Rick shook his head. Until he had a confession or a solid witness statement, he didn’t want to lose the fragile trust Loyola had given him. “Loyola, we need to go downtown.”
“Why do we need to go anywhere? And I’ll be good without the handcuffs, I promise.” She looked at Bishop and then Rick, pleading.
Rage roiled in Bishop’s gaze and, for a moment, he looked as if he would respond with a harsh comment. But he caught Rick’s warning glare and fell silent. Rick didn’t question his partner. They all had those moments, those cases that struck deep nerves that could paralyze with pain and anger.
“We need to talk more,” Rick said. Until he squeezed every bit of information he could out of Loyola, he’d play nice. Sometimes you have to dance with the devil to solve a case. How many times had he heard his father say that? “Bishop, remove the handcuffs.”
Bishop’s glare darkened, but he fished the keys from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs.
Rubbing her wrists, Loyola looked up at him, her gaze bewildered and confused. “I told you what I know.”
Rick shook his head. He wanted to know how a woman could allow a goon like Briggs around her child let alone allow the man to take her away. “My guess is there’re a few more details.”
After Rick and Bishop found drugs on Loyola Briggs, a violation of her parole, they booked her in the jail. The charge wouldn’t hold her long, but at least that had her location nailed down for no less than twenty-four hours.