Her Last Day (Jessie Cole #1)(16)

Focus, she reminded herself as he unlocked the door. “You don’t even know who your father is, do you? Is it the postman? Or maybe it’s your next-door neighbor.”

The door clanged open. He stepped inside. Smiling now, he ignored her verbal jabs as he approached. Two feet away from her, he stopped and stared. And then, without warning, he lunged, baring his teeth and curling his hands into claws as he came at her.

She’d expected as much and jumped to the side.

He jerked to the right. She moved to the left.

He went left. She went right.

His eyes were bright. It took her a second to realize he was in his element, toying with her, having fun. The second he stepped close enough, she jumped forward and jabbed the prongs into his chest. She held tight, giving him a good long jolt.

He cried out as he fell to the ground, his arms and legs flailing.

She had no choice but to hop over him, and when she did he grabbed hold of her ankle and yanked her to the ground. The Taser flew from her hands, breaking into pieces.

He was laughing, his body no longer twitching. How could that be?

She kicked and screamed, then reached around for his face and jammed her thumb into his eye.

He cursed and let go.

She jumped to her feet and scrambled through the cell door. She got as far as the bottom step before he grabbed her leg and she fell. Her chin hit the stair, sending a searing pain through her skull.

“Nice try,” he said as he dragged her back to the cell. “You obviously know nothing about me. Because if you did, you would know I used to dream of being a Boy Scout someday. The Boy Scouts of America is one of the largest scouting organizations in the US. Be prepared!” He laughed. “Always be in a state of readiness in mind and body to do your duty!”

Once they were inside the cell again, he released his hold on one of her legs so he could lift his shirt and reveal another layer of fabric.

“It’s polyester,” he said. “A special fabric neutralizes any stun-gun jolt. Works every time. Prisoner has my Taser and thinks he has the upper hand.” He laughed as if that was the funniest thing ever.

Her heart raced. He was insane. She realized that this might be her last chance to get free. Before he reached for her leg again, she drew it back and slammed her foot into his shin.

He cried out and stumbled backward, but he wasn’t kidding when he’d said he was prepared. Before she could get past him, he pulled a small canister from his waistband and sprayed her in the face.

Her eyes burned. The pain was intense.

He pushed her to the ground.

Get out of here, she told herself. Get out now! On hands and knees, she scurried back to where she’d left her pile of makeshift weapons. The granola wrapper crunched beneath her fingers.

Again his long, cold fingers grasped her ankles before he dragged her from the cell.

No. No. No! She reached out blindly in front of her, arms stretching, fingers searching. The pen. Where was the pen? Her hand passed over the coins.

“It’s time for you to take a time-out in the box.”





NINE

Jessie’s first stop after leaving Olivia home with the dog was her dad’s house in East Sacramento off Riverside Boulevard. It was the house where she and Sophie had been raised. With its unstable foundation, cracked walkways, and neglected grounds, she was surprised the property had been accepted as a pledge toward bail. She knocked on the door, three hard raps.

Her dad used to be a carpenter, but after he’d started drinking, he couldn’t be trusted to show up on time. Now he worked as a handyman. Ethan Cole’s Handyman Services. She was about to get her hopes up when she heard lumbering footfalls approaching from inside.

The door came open.

“Hi, Dad.”

He tightened the sash on his robe. Although his thick salt-and-pepper hair was all over the place and he needed a shave, for a fifty-nine-year-old drunk, he was in pretty good shape. Clearly he wasn’t expecting visitors.

“Can I come inside?”

“Yeah, um, sure, of course.”

She stepped past him, walked down the hallway and into the family room. Empty beer cans littered the coffee table, and clear plastic cups used as ashtrays were filled to the brim. When she opened a window to air the place out, she saw the old swing set out back, where she and her sister used to play when they were little girls. It was rusty now and had one broken swing that dangled from a chain.

She went to the kitchen next and dug through drawers and cabinets until she found a garbage bag. As she walked around the family room, tossing empty cans and plastic cups into the bag, she held up an empty can of beer and said, “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Did you come here to lecture me?”

“No. I guess not.” She set the can back on the table and the bag on the floor next to her feet. He might have his own handyman business, but he didn’t look very handy at the moment. “Don’t you work anymore?”

“I don’t appreciate your tone.”

She anchored her hair behind her ears. He was right. She hadn’t come all this way to make him feel like shit. “You shouldn’t have pledged your property, Dad. This house is all you’ve got.”

“I’ve got you and Olivia.”

“Not if you continue to drink yourself into an early grave.”

“A few beers are all I had.”