Page 32 of Merciless Obsession
Fuck you, you psycho.
I grinned.
“That mouth, it’s surely a stinger.” I laughed.
Lowering the camera, I watched as Ziora moved away from the window but didn’t close her panels, still giving me access to her. River’s words from earlier played in my head for a moment, but I shook them away. This wasn’t like that time. Nothing about it would end up like before because the simple fact was, Ziora wasn’ther.
CHAPTER 10
ZIORA
“Thank you for meeting with me.” I took a seat on the brown worn couch and gave the living room a scan. There wasn’t much in it. A big screen TV mounted on the wall, kids toys scattered around the floor, a coffee table a couple feet from the couch with an ashtray with cigarette butts inside.
“You said you had questions about my daughter going missing?” The mom sat down and turned her head away from me to blow smoke from the cigarette in her hand. When she faced me again, she looked me over. “You a cop or something? Don’t look like one.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not a cop.”
“Then why you here? Who are you?”
For a second I focused on the healing bruise under her left eye.
I cleared my throat. “My name’s Ziora, I’m looking into the girls going missing around here.”
She puffed on the cigarette and squinted. “Why? You don’t look like you live on this side of the bridge. Why do you care about anything happening over here?”
“I grew up in this area, a couple blocks away from your house. My sister was taken nine years ago and she wasn’t the first or last girl.”
“Well I told the cops everything when they came by.” She scoffed. “Not that they gave a damn.”
“Ms. Rogers. I’ma be real with you. The cops are going to do a half ass investigation if they do anything at all.”
Ms. Rogers snickered. “Yeah I figured. It’s always been like that. When one of us goes missing it’s just one less problem for them to deal with.” She stood and walked over to the wall near the door and took the picture hanging off.
When she turned to me and came back to the couch, she handed the photo to me. In it was Ms. Rogers, along with her five kids, three boys and two girls.
“Mya’s the oldest girl. She was my little star too, wanted to be a singer and make it out The Sticks.” Ms. Rogers’s voice cracked. “Her older brother dropped out of school and runs the streets doing whatever the hell he does. My youngest three adored her; she was a big help around here too.” She puffed on the cancer stick. “My baby ain’t bother nobody. She got good grades, just got her first solo in choir, she was so happy. And the cops chalked her up as some runaway delinquent. That wasn’t my Mya. She wasn’t a fucking bad kid.”
Ms. Rogers’s hands shook as she pulled the cigarette away from her mouth. “My oldest, he’s about to be seventeen. He’s been scanning the neighborhood trying to find out who took his sister. He always been a protector. Since my no-good baby daddies never stayed around, he took on the role as the man of the house.” She paused and snorted, looking out into the distance.
I shifted in my seat and looked back at the picture. The kids all had some feature of their mom in them, but the youngesttwo looked the most alike. I assumed they had the same dad. I focused on Mya.
“That picture was the first time I agreed to straighten her hair. She was so excited and couldn’t stop running her fingers through it.”
Mya was a pretty girl—light brown, big innocent smile, small gap in her front top teeth, big, bright, round eyes.
“Did your daughter do anything out of the ordinary leading up to the day she went missing? Did she get new friends? Start acting out? Tell you about anyone following her?”
“No. Mya’s had the same friends since she was five. Girls that grew up in the neighborhood. Mya went to school, then her after school program, and would walk home when it was over. My son told me to stop letting her walk everywhere, but Mya was so mature for her age. She was smart too, knew not to get in any strangers’ cars and be aware of her surroundings. She just turned fourteen, she wasn’t a kid. Hell, I had my first job at fourteen. Wasn’t nothing wrong with her walking home.”
Ms. Rogers was thirty-six. When I looked into her, I saw she had a petty theft charge and a DUI charge from a few years back, but nothing too major. She had her oldest son at nineteen, no college degree, but she did finish high school.
The front door slammed open and hit the wall with a loud thud, causing me to jump. “Who’s fucking car is that in front of the house?” A large, dark-skinned man stepped further into the house. His eyes landed on me and narrowed. “Who the fuck are you?”
My eyes widened. My heart pounded loudly.
“Baby, this is Ziora. She’s looking into Mya’s disappearance.” Ms. Rogers leaned over and set her cigarette in the ashtray before standing up. She walked to the guy and laid a hand on his arm.
“I don’t like strangers in my house, Missy. I told you that shit.” Ms. Rogers’s whole demeanor changed when the man stepped into the house.
