Blessed are the Dead

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Book: Read Blessed are the Dead for Free Online
Authors: Kristi Belcamino
that was true, they weren’t going to say squat on the air.
    â€œWe have no reason to believe that at this time,” Roberge answers. “The search team is following routine protocol by combing the surrounding area.”
    â€œDid anyone see her at the bus stop?” an Associated Press reporter asks. “And where is the stop?”
    Uh-­oh. That’s going to narrow down where she lived. I was hoping I’d be the only reporter with the address.
    â€œWe are trying to determine whether she made it to the bus stop—­at the corner of Summit and Fourth Street—­the morning she disappeared. Some downtown regulars think they may have seen her there.”
    â€œ Visit bus stop, ” I write in my notebook and circle it.
    While other reporters continue asking questions, I squeeze my way to the front of the crowd. It takes a while before I get my question answered. Every time I start to speak, a TV reporter interrupts me. Two female reporters keep subtly blocking my way as I try to poke my head around their big teased hair. I’m starting to elbow a few of them back when finally Roberge notices me.
    â€œAre you considering this a kidnapping?” I ask, thinking about how Lopez heard it was a possible 207 on the scanner.
    â€œWe have no reason to believe that at this time,” Roberge recites like a robot.
    Black clears his throat. “You said police were contacting convicted sex offenders in the area. Do you think the girl came into contact with one of them?” he asks.
    â€œWe are not releasing that information at this time.”
    Just like politicians, cops are good at answering a lot of questions without saying anything. After the press conference, I dial Kellogg and give him a summary. I’m about to hang up when he says my name. I wait.
    â€œEvans was on the rampage this morning when she saw the Trib story on the missing kid. I told her what happened, that we had the same tip about the missing kid but couldn’t nail it down.”
    Not good. Evans already hates my guts. I wonder if Kellogg told the executive editor it was his decision not to run with it. I doubt it. I don’t know what she has over him. I hang up, trying not to worry about Evans.
    Black catches up to us as we walk to Lopez’s car. “You guys sticking around Rosarito today?”
    â€œNo, are you?” I lie without an ounce of guilt.
    â€œNo, I’ll probably head back to the office.”
    â€œYeah, me too.”
    Lopez bobs his head in agreement.

 
    Chapter 5
    T HE DECREPIT LIGHT blue Victorian is squished between two apartment buildings right smack in downtown Rosarito. I check the address Moretti gave me. Yep, this is where Jasmine lives—­close to where Main Street dead-­ends at the harbor. This area was once a thriving shopping district but now is home to seedy bridal shops, abandoned businesses, and bars.
    Pressing my face against the building’s glass front door, I smoosh all the door buzzers at once. As we wait, a man on the sidewalk below stops in his tracks and stares at me. Lopez gives him a look, and the man walks on. The once-­elegant house is now home to apartments. The view through the glass front door shows a hallway with about eight doors leading to apartments. After a moment, a little girl comes out of Apt. 2. She looks about four years old.
    â€œHoney, can you open the door?” I say it loudly, so she can hear me through the glass. She pushes the door open and leans against the wall, gazing at her bare feet. She wears a faded, too-­short flowered dress, and her hair is tangled.
    â€œDoes a little girl named Jasmine Baker live here?” She points to an apartment door at the end of the hall on the right-­hand side. Jackpot. “She lives in that apartment?”
    The little girl nods and starts sucking on her two middle fingers.
    â€œAre her mom and dad home?”
    The girl looks away. She twists her ankle around

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