Trail of Echoes by Rachel Howzell Hall Page A

LAPD helicopter now buzzed overhead, and we all glanced up at it.
    â€œSo nobody odd around that doesn’t belong?” Colin asked.
    â€œThere’s this Chester that lives in Nita’s complex,” Dude said. “Raul Moriaga. Now he’s fucked up.”
    â€œSo you and Chanita,” I said, eyes on Dude’s tattoo. “You were dating ?”
    â€œI ain’t said that,” Dude spat. “She was … a good friend, know what I mean?”
    My skin crawled, and my mouth opened to reply, but then closed. Dude had to be older than sixteen. He had to be older than eighteen . I opened my binder. “What’s your name?”
    â€œOntrel.”
    â€œLast name?”
    He didn’t reply.
    I cocked an eyebrow. Well?
    â€œShaw.”
    â€œAnd how old are you, Mr. Shaw?” I asked.
    â€œJust made twenty-two yesterday.”
    â€œWell, happy birthday,” I said, scribbling his name and age onto the notepad. “I’m Detective Norton, and this is Detective Taggert.” I narrowed my eyes. “Good friends?”
    â€œAin’t like we was married or shit,” Ontrel said, frowning. “We hung out, watched movies, et cetera et cetera. Ain’t no thang—Nita was mature for her age.”
    â€œShe was thirteen, ” Colin spat.
    Ontrel gave an oblivious shrug. “Age ain’t nothin’ but a number.”
    â€œAnd according to the law,” I said, “thirteen will get you four.”
    He snorted. “Like y’all give a fuck about black girls fucking.”
    â€œI give thirty fucks about black girls fucking,” I said. “Especially minor girls. And since that is now the topic, I’ll need your DNA.”
    Ontrel’s smile dimmed, and he sat up straighter on the car’s hood.
    â€œSo,” I continued, “now that I have your full attention: what’s been going on around here since Nita went missing?”
    Ontrel sucked his teeth. “What you think? Regina pissed cuz y’all ain’t found Nita yet. Pissed at me cuz I wasn’t with Nita to protect her. Like I said, we wasn’t no married people, so I don’t know what the fuck Gee wanted me to do.”
    I could only blink at him as my mind grappled with the monstrous age gap. Twenty-two and thirteen and Chanita’s mother approved ? Had I become that bourgie since fleeing this place?
    Ontrel chuckled, more annoyed than amused. “Gotta do what you gotta do to survive. I protect Nita from a lot of these fools up in here. Give her and her fam’ money when they broke.”
    â€œWell, then,” I said, “the parade will be next week. I’ll be sure to bring your medal and key to the city.”
    â€œAnd she been gone for five days,” Ontrel said, scowling, “and she ain’t back yet . What you so worried about, Detective?” To Colin: “Why you standin’ here now, Officer? Neither of y’all know shit about us up in here.”
    As a former resident, I knew plenty. But I didn’t care to qualify to this statutory-rapist dope head. I wouldn’t show him my physical scars left from getting jumped in the laundry room two hundred yards away from where we now stood. Nor would I relive for him those terrifying nights when helicopters like the one above us busted up my bedroom’s darkness with their damn-bright searchlights because someone like him had been shot in the alley beneath my window.
    Anger now stuck in my throat like a hastily swallowed jawbreaker. “Where were you when she first disappeared?”
    Ontrel’s scowl deepened. “Like I told that other cop: Social Security with my moms.”
    â€œFolks can vouch for you?” Colin asked.
    â€œYup.”
    Colin made a note in his binder. “We’ll need you to come down to the station for a formal interview.”
    â€œFuck that. I already had one of them.”
    Colin shook his head. “But that was