Page 18 of What’s Left of Us (What Left #3)

“Alastair has fans,” I argue, but my skin is crawling. I’ve never even considered that a possibility, but now it’s all I can focus on. I’m sure she’s making shit up to get under my skin, but fuck me, it’s working.

“No,” she counters, wiggling her brows again.

Every single thing she says has a body movement to go with it, and I realized how animated she is now.

Thinking back, it was never this bad. It’s like she suddenly wants to make a show out of everything.

“I have fans. The Slayers, that’s what they call themselves, right?

You have no idea how much those fans love a female serial killer. ”

I look over at Jensen again, but his face gives nothing away.

I don’t like watching the reports on the case, especially after I’ve heard how screwed up everything is lately.

Jensen speaks before I need to come up with a response.

“Fans or not, you aren’t going to get out of here because a few more people in the crowd find you interesting.

You’re a social experiment gone wrong, proof that women can be cruel too.

It’s not the complement you think it is. ”

“Isn’t it, though?” she asks, titling her head. She looks between us, twisting a little, and then a smile blooms across her face. She’s really enjoying this. “I had so many psych students who wanted to know about the secrets of the mind, so many pretty heads I filled with my truth.”

“We’ve looked into all of your teaching positions, the locations you lived, all of it,” Jensen says. “You haven’t left the impression you hoped for on all of your students.”

“But enough of them,” she coos. “Enough to matter. Nicholas and Gabirelle and Nancy and Betty and George-”

“Unless you’re planning on giving us something real, we’re leaving,” Jensen says forcefully, interrupting her.

“I’ve given you all sorts of things,” she says with a laugh. “I gave you back Alastair-”

“You didn’t give him to anyone, he escaped,” I snap.

“I gave him somewhere to escape from ,” she argues.

“To taste freedom before you cart him off to Death Row. Death Alley is what they call it here. It’s the area where my cell is, even if I don’t have a conviction yet.

I’m only good for five deaths so far, right?

I don’t think that’s enough to go all the way to Death Alley, is it? ”

I glare at her. “Is everything a game to you? You can’t look in your journal and reference shit on how to act anymore, so you went the other way and lost your fucking mind?”

That seems to trigger her, and I jump in my seat when she tries to leap across the table at me. The restraints keep her in place, but the surprise that dances across her attorney's face makes me wonder if this is the first time she’s lost her cool during an interview.

Jensen grabs my arm gently, helping me to my feet. “If you can’t speak reasonably during your visits, we won’t bother your daughter again. If all you wanted was to insult her we could’ve skipped this entire visit.”

Mom grins, her green eyes narrowing to slits as she stares at me. “You’re a dead girl walking.”

Her words echo in my head, reminding me of my nightmares. Dead girl, dead girl, dead girl…

I shake away the thoughts, and with it Jensen’s hand. “What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much? I know with the way things happened, everything pointed to Alastair being the one trying to kill me, but you… you had a hand in it, don’t deny it.”

I step back towards the door, and I can hear it opening behind me. I’m just repeating things I’ve always known, but hearing her voice stirs up my memories.

That seems to be all I’m living through these days. Memories.

“You gave me something,” I say, scrunching up my brows. Did I tell Sterling this? I can’t recall. “That day… before I woke up in the cellar.”

The memory is suddenly clear of what my mother did before I woke up in the cellar. I thought I remembered going to sleep, remembering Alastair as the last thing before the basement, but that isn’t true.

“You made some of your lemonade,” I say, aware that the door behind me is open. Porscha’s eyes drift there before snapping back to me. “Your homemade batch. You made that a lot when I was in junior and senior year, and I always slept so good afterwards.”

“Jo,” I hear Sterling’s voice behind me but, as happy as I am that he’s here, I ignore him, still focused on my mom.

“That’s why I slept so well the nights you were out late,” I realize, and vaguely it occurs to me that I never questioned it. I never thought anything of it. “And when I woke up in the cellar… it was you. You gave me something to knock me out so you could transport me.”

“Congrats,” Mom says dryly. “You figured out the oldest trick in the book. I spiked your drinks. So what?”

“If you did it to keep her unconscious while you transported her someplace to die, that makes it premeditated like your other kills,” Sterling says, and I’m glad he walked in when he did. “Did you use that ruse for any of the others?”

Porscha scoffs, twisting in the restraints again. She’s antsy, but all I can think about is scrambling back out of this room to get away from her. “Didn’t need to. No one was as difficult as her.”

I flinch at the comment. “You really planned to kill me? For no reason?”

A hand falls on my shoulder at the same time that Porscha smiles. It’s a dark smile, twisting her face into something ugly. “I didn’t need a reason to kill you, darling. It was only a matter of time.”

I step back and Jensen’s up too, collecting the papers. It’s his voice that fills the room. “This is over-”

“Did you think it was better when your lover wanted you dead instead of dear old Mummy?” She laughs, and I freeze in place. Even Sterling’s tight grip on my arm can’t convince me to move. “Did it seem better that he picked you by default instead of need?”

“What need did you have for trying to kill your daughter?” Sterling snaps. “She fits your victims. She looks like all the previous ones. Were you killing the women who looked like you, or the ones who reminded you of her?”

I stiffen, glancing back at him. I hadn’t let that thought cross my mind, not with so much of my focus staying on Alastair the last few weeks - months, really. But hearing him ask it makes sense, even if the idea sends my mind reeling.

“What does it matter?” Porscha snaps. “One more blondie out of the way. Is it such a great loss?”

Sterling glances over at Jensen, but I can’t read the expression in their gazes.

As Sterling continues the conversation I glance back at Porscha again.

I don’t mean to—but it’s like I can’t help myself.

“You killed girls who looked like your daughter, who were a similar age and build, because you were jealous.”

“Was it the attention she got?” Jensen asks, and I glare at him.

I don’t like where this is headed, not when I’m still standing in the room.

I don’t want to hear her answers. “I mean, she had two boys absolutely smitten with her in high school. Totally infatuated. To the point one sided with you, and the other did everything he could to get her out of here.”

Porscha grinds her teeth. “Attention is bad. Bad! Too much attention leads to ruin.”

“How?” Sterling asks. I’ve never heard my mother say anything like that before. Sure, she wasn’t a fan of her teenage daughter having two boyfriends but I don’t regret my decisions in that regard. Now that I’m older I’ve realized it was extra taboo since we were so young.

She tries to jump up, and the restraints stop her. “You want to know about those bodies so badly, Agent? You can pry the truth from my cold, dead heart. They don’t deserve to live in anyone’s memory!”

I frown, and the guards appearing in the room kill my mood immediately.

They usher us out as Porscha keeps babbling, Sterling’s grip tight on my arm until we’re out of the visitation space again.His expression is murderous as he looks between myself and the visitation room.

Her parting words don’t mean anything to me. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No,” Jensen answers as Sterling stays quiet. “She claimed to be willing to accept fault for the five bodies we know she’s responsible for if she could see you. That was-”

“Unexpected,” Sterling supplies, turning to press his hands against the little ledge beneath the two-way glass. “We knew she hated your boyfriends.”

“It’s not really a secret,” I grumble.

“But to that extent?” he carries on, tugging out his phone. “It’s a trigger. She had you young, but that doesn’t explain why it bothers her so much.”

“Think she’ll say more?” Jensen asks.

“Maybe if we ask the right questions,” Sterling says, his brow knitting together. “Let me see what Finley can pull on her still. Jo, she was always Porscha Surwright as far as you know?”

I blink, looking between him and the woman raging at her attorney on the other side of the glass “Don’t you know the answer to that?”

“I do,” he says, continuing to glare down at his phone. “But we need to look again. There’s something we’re missing that ties everything together, I’m sure of it.”

I hesitate.” Alastair-”

“Constantine can’t answer questions about Porscha’s past,” Jensen says, eyeing me. “He knew her for a short amount of time and only that version of her. We need to look into who she was before that.”

“Before she was your mother,” Sterling agrees. “We already looked into that, but her hate seems to-”

He cuts himself off, seeming to realize for the first time that he’s talking about me. He was so focused on his train of thought, he nearly forgot that it all has to do with me.

I cross my arms, waiting for him to talk his way out of this one. He clears his throat, his cheeks doing that cute little blush that happens when he’s embarrassed, but it’s not the time for that right now. I clear my throat. “Do you need me here anymore?”

“Porscha is riled up enough from talking to you,” he says slowly, eyeing me. “She might give away more. We need an agent back in there.”

“Then walk me to the front,” I snap, glancing between the two men. There’s something unspoken between them, and after listening to my mother lose it I don’t have the energy to try and figure out what it is.

“I’ll do it, boss,” Jensen offers, glancing down at me. “I’m sure your husband is back by now.”

I don’t even care if he is. I’ll call him and wait in the parking lot if I have to, I just want to be away from this. “Sure. Whatever. Let’s go.”

“Hey, Jo-”

Holding up a hand, I glance back over my shoulder with a glare. “Don’t, Sterling. I don’t want the excuses. Do what you have to for your case I guess. Looks like you’re just as driven as your father was to get answers, no matter what you have to do.”

It’s obvious that I struck a nerve with my words but right now, I don’t care.

Porscha’s voice rattling around in my head, and I need to be as far from this place as possible before I can try and make sense of this meeting.

The guard nearby lets me pass as Jensen steps up to my side, flashing his badge, and we’re quickly on our way out.

I need to call Vinny but I need to get my bag and my phone first.

I should’ve waited for him. This was a mistake.

“You did good,” Jensen offers, but I don’t really believe him. I got her talking, but none of it made any sense. “We appreciate you doing that. I know it wasn’t easy-”

“Just do me a favor,” I interrupt, keeping my eyes forward as we walk. “Don’t ever expect me to do that again. I don’t need to see my mother to say goodbye. I did that a long time ago.”