Page 17 of What’s Left of Us (What Left #3)

“Well then,” he says, shooting me a look, “let’s use that to our advantage. If this is the only time you will agree to come here, Jo, let’s make it count. Come on, I’ll give you a few pointers on how to get Porscha to talk before you have to sit and speak with her.”

Jensen isn’t Sterling, and he doesn’t make me feel as safe as my agent does. I know, realistically, he’s trained the same way, but he doesn’t know me. He’s just another FBI agent, not my agent.

I’m being picky, and I blame that on the stress of facing my mother. The two agents coached me a little before we walked in, and Jensen has a slim file that’s supposed to have some papers for Porscha to sign if she agrees to anything. I’m not holding my breath that she’ll sign anything.

Just before we walk into the room, the warden comes in to chat.

She’s an older woman who seems fond of Sterling, and now I’m connecting the dots on how he got a favor for this special visitation.

She completely derails our conversation, nearly dragging Sterling away while batting her lashes when the two agents are supposed to be going over what I should say.

They act like I haven’t done this before.

Sterling barely had time to pull me aside and ask questions before I walked in here with Jensen. The warden definitely has her eyes on him, and he all but turned away from her when he spoke to me.

“Did your mother ever seem to be hiding money?” he asks me.

I give him a look. “She always seemed to be hiding money. I never really cared because we had what we needed, but I don’t think I’m the right person to ask about her secrets. She kept everything from me.”

Sterling shifts on his feet, looking perturbed. I can’t help wondering what’s gotten under his skin now. “We’re investigating new details, and it seems Porscha may have been paying bills in someone else’s name under a shell company. Does the name Citrus Designs mean anything to you?”

I shrug. “That was her painting business. Mostly cabinets and stuff. Home repair work.”

He nods, and I can almost see the gears turning in his head. “The bills for two supposed victims were paid under a Shell company Floral Touches, but it was linked to Citrus Designs.”

Tilting my head, I try and not look suspicious as the warden eyes us. “Does that mean you’ll nail her for something else?”

Sterling hesitates, and I almost regret asking. “Maybe. I just wanted to know if you ever noticed money disappearing. This would be something she did for a long time.”

Sitting across from Porscha, I can’t figure out how my life brought me back here. I almost wish I got dragged into the conversation Sterling got sucked into outside with the warden instead of walking in here and facing the monster that is my mother.

“And look at that,” mom says, lifting her chin as I sit down.

She’s got on a full restraint set up, which includes stretch handcuffs with a short chain that makes it easier to attach the cuffs to the bolted hook on the table to keep her in place.

She’s also got a leg bar; I saw it when we watched the officers bring her in.

It makes it hard to walk, and even with that added measure they still attached the bar to another bolt in the floor, so she literally cannot get up without someone unlocking the cuffs and the bar from their stationary positions.

There’s no chance she can do or try to do anything to me right now.

When I don’t respond, Porscha clicks her tongue. I silently tell myself to keep her separate in my head as Porscha versus mom, because they really are like different people. I’m here to hopefully get her to answer some questions, and then maybe the FBI will leave me alone about this.

“You came all this way and don’t even wanna talk to me?” she coos, and her attorney makes a noise in his throat like he’s warning her, but she disregards him completely. “Worried I’ll know more about your boyfriend than you do?”

Alastair. “I’m married now.”

“Yes,” she says dryly, rocking in her chair. It’s unnatural, like she’s hoping it’ll turn into a rocking chair. I almost think she’s trying to rock on her heels, which I was informed are also retrained. “To the mafia boy. You can imagine how proud I am.”

“You looked me up,” I snap, eyes narrowed. “I know you applied to my club, so please don’t pretend you don’t know about me. Vinny and I completely detached ourselves from Citrus Grove-”

Jensen clears his throat, and I shoot him a look. He brought me here to get her to talk, right? “Porscha, we’re not here to talk about Jo. We want-”

“Information on the dead,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes. “Honestly boy, I don’t know why you care so much if you haven’t found them all yet.”

Jensen stiffens, and I side-eye him. I’m better at reading Sterling, but it doesn’t look like he had any idea about that bit of news. The surprise is brief across his face, but if I caught it I’m sure Porscha did too.

“Ms. Surwright-” her attorney begins.

“Please,” she chuckles, looking between us, “Ms. Surwright was my mother - literally .”

I frown. That’s true. Porscha should be Porscha Zimmerman, I remember having this conversation with her years ago when I saw letters from Uncle Wayne and they had different last names.

“Your grandma was a Surwright,” she explained, smiling at me. “She’s gone now, your grandpa too. I came to Citrus Grove to start over so we could have a fresh beginning. Why not start with a new name too?”

“Ms. Surwright,” Jensen says, and I glance at him, shaking off the memory. “If you’re claiming there are more bodies-”

“You found…” Porscha trails off, glancing at her attorney, who leans over again and whispers something in her ear. She begins to cackle. “Just eight new bodies?”

“Ten,” Jensen corrects immediately. “We’re here because of the two bodies found on the property you were hiding at. Do James and Diana Nunes sound familiar to you?”

Porscha clicks her tongue, and maybe I’m imaging it, but I think I see something flicker across her face. It could be recognition, or disgust. “There was nobody there when I was staying there.”

“Those bodies didn’t show up when you were hiding out,” Jensen says, and I try to look like I’m not overly eager to hear this.

Sterling is careful about what he reveals in front of me, usually keeping it to the pertinent details about Alastair, but Jensen doesn’t seem to really care right now.

“One pans out with the timeline of the original Citrus Grove Slayer kills.”

She shrugs, looking at her attorney who just shakes his head. I can’t tell if he doesn’t want her to give anything away, or if he just has no idea what they are talking about right now.

Jensen scowls. “You’ve played this game each time we visit, Porscha. Feigning ignorance will get you nowhere when we already have proof you are guilty of some of these crimes. If you don’t help us find them, we can’t offer you a deal and you go to court with no leverage.”

“Don’t pretend like you want to help me help you,” Porscha goes on, batting her lashes at me.

I stare back, wondering what the hell she wants.

“The feds never want to really help a person. But I know you have some money now, girl. Here to help me out? I could use someone better than my court appointed guy.”

The attorney scowls, and I glance between them. I really kind of hope she pisses him off so much he refuses to represent her. Mom is psychotic, and she doesn’t know the law. Or at least, she didn’t care about it years ago. Could she screw herself over in court?

Jensen groans, flipping open the folder he brought with. He really doesn’t seem like he wants to be here, and I can’t blame him. “You've already admitted to other bodies-”

“Glad you’re listening,” she interrupts with a laugh. Her attorney looks to be at his wits end putting up with her. “I wanna deal if you want more bodies.”

“The DA isn’t interested in handing out deals without proof,” Jensen tells her, and I tilt my head and stay quiet, soaking in whatever he says.

“You’ve said there are other bodies. You’ve also claimed to not be at fault for the killings in the same visit.

So I’m not interested in taking anything you say as the truth without proof.

Are you going to fess up to the two bodies on the Nunes property too? ”

“You gotta work for the truth,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m not going to just give out answers.”

“Then why do you think they will help you?” I ask, genuinely curious. What does she think she’ll gain from this?

She wiggles her eyebrows. “You know, that little lover boy of yours had a sweet spot for me.”

My skin crawls and I know right away she’s talking about Alastair. She never cared for Vinny, and the feeling was mutual. “Yeah, pity,” I spit out.

Mom scowls. “You don’t know anything.”

Jensen nudges my leg, and when I glance at him he makes a motion with his hand for me to continue.

“Did he ever talk about me?” I ask, folding my arms. Mom’s frown deepens. “Like when you two were off together.”

“What do you think we were off doing?” she suggests. “Flirting? Smoking?” She tries to tap her chin, but the cuffs won’t let her, and it makes her irritation spike. “Killing?”

“How many times were you off killing?” Jensen asks, jumping on the question. She glares at him, and he stares right back. “Come on. Porscha. You wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t already happening.”

“You don’t know what we were doing,” Porscha sneers, but she’s glaring at me instead of him. “I could’ve been sleeping with him for all you know.”

“Sex with a minor is your defense?” Jensen asks, interrupting us. Her attorney leans in to speak with her and she shrugs him off. “That’s not a good look if you want a jury to like you.”

“I don’t need them to like me,” she says, shaking her head. “Enough people do. I have fans . What do you have?”