She watched as Raya hurried out of the McDonald’s, her head down, her own mistrust of cops obvious as she raced past the officers. Becca exited the restaurant behind her and beelined toward one of the officers, who was surveying the Tribe with studied indifference.

“Officer, I’m Dr. Becca Ortiz. I’m with the SMART unit,” she said.

The tall, middle-aged African American man reached out to shake her hand. “Lieutenant Stevens said you’d be here. I’m Officer Morris and my partner over there is Officer Ghazalian.”

Becca saw the young Middle Eastern woman, clearly a “boot,” the LAPD slang for training officer. She stood at attention by the cruiser, awaiting instructions from Officer Morris.

“The lieutenant said you reported these people as suspects in your daughter’s disappearance?”

“They’re persons of interest in at least one homicide,” Becca said. “My daughter’s boyfriend is one of them. The kid in the gray T-shirt with the bandaged wrist. Most of them appear to be minors,” Becca said.

“Copy that. We’ll get CPS out here. Detective Wishard, the lead detective, is en route. For your safety please wait here while my partner and I have a chat with them, see what we can find. The last thing we want is for them to feel like we’re taking sides.”

“I wager that it’s too late for that, but I appreciate your optimism, Officer,” Becca said.

“Only thing keeping me sane,” he replied with a strained smile before heading across the street toward the Tribe’s tent village. Becca watched as Mo greeted the officer, shaking his hand as though she were president of the neighborhood welcome wagon. If Becca were a civilian, it might look like Office Morris was a friendly officer simply making a welfare check. But Becca could see him shifting his torso to ensure his body camera captured a good view of everyone. While Officer Morris talked to Mo, the younger officer began to wander the camp, inspecting the surroundings. Becca could see the officer was doing her best to stay out of the kids’ line of sight, but Becca’s heart raced when she saw her pulling the blue latex gloves from his pocket. This meant she’d found something, potential evidence that would allow them to search their dwelling.

“Alex, over here,” the officer called out. Becca saw her holding up what looked like several designer handbags. This discovery instantly shifted the casual nature of the conversation.