Her Last Day (Jessie Cole #1)(42)

Dealing with schizophrenia wasn’t easy. She had good days and bad days. More often than not, she heard voices. Sometimes Francis, a deep, gravelly, and convincing voice inside her head, would remind her how well she was doing and suggest she stop taking her medication. When that happened, she often wandered from the house.

This last time she’d wandered too far.

Her dad was probably worried. The thought of him worrying made her feel sick to her stomach. She and Dad had their differences, but he loved her for who she was, and she was lucky to have him in her life.

“You never should have followed me here,” Scar said in a cheerful voice as if nothing had changed between them.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Zee spat back. “My head still hurts.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked, seemingly determined to get on her good side.

“Fuck you.”

He made a sad face. “I’ve never heard you curse before. It’s unbecoming.”

She shot to her feet, wrapped her fingers around the metal bars between her and him, and rattled the cage. “I no longer care what you think. I want out!”

“You should have minded your own business,” he told her.

“You’ve never met any of my friends,” she said. “But you’re going to be meeting a lot of new people if you don’t let me out right this minute.”

He answered with a creepy smile.

“He’s not going to let either of us go,” the woman in the cell next to her said.

The woman had lifted her head. Her eyes were wide-open.

“Who is that?” Zee asked Scar.

“Natalie Bailey,” he said.

“Why is she naked?”

“Because he wants to humiliate me,” Natalie answered.

“Is that true?”

His answer was half shrug, half nod, which Zee took as a yes. Zee narrowed her eyes at him. “What is this all about? Why are we here?”

“You’re here because you’re one messed-up crazy chick,” Scar said. “And she’s here because of her mother.”

Natalie Bailey sat up, her spine stiff, straw sticking out of her hair, making her look a bit deranged. Zee blinked a couple of times to make sure the woman wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

“He’s a liar,” Natalie said. “He never met my mother.”

“Sue Sterling,” Scar stated, his tone clipped. “A social worker born September 16, 1953, to Myriam and Rafael Potts. I met her for the first and last time on Friday, May 14, 1999.”

Natalie’s lips flattened. If looks could kill, Zee was pretty sure Scar would be dead.

“Her job on that particular day,” he said through gritted teeth, “was to investigate a report of child abuse. It was Sue Sterling’s responsibility to examine the home, this home, and talk to neighbors, teachers, friends—anyone who might have come into contact with said child.”

Zee knew he was different, quirky, and quick to anger, but she’d never seen him quite like this. At the moment his face was red and blotchy, his body shook, and spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. His narrow chest still rose and fell from all that emotion.

“Did she follow you here, too?” Zee asked him.

“No,” he said. “Not exactly.”

“No. Not exactly,” Zee mimicked, irritated by his nonanswer.

“You know I don’t like that.”

“You know I don’t like that,” Zee repeated, imitating him, mocking him.

“If you do it again,” he said, pointing a finger at her, “you’re going to be punished.”

“If you do it again,” she said, “you’re going to be punished.”

He snarled.

Zee held tight to the bars, leaned close, and spit at him, missing his boots by a few inches. He wasn’t the only one who was angry. She was livid, and he had no idea whom he was dealing with.

“You’re going to regret that.”

“My dad is looking for me. He’s rich, and he’s smart, too, and I know he’ll find me soon!”

He turned, marched across the room, and disappeared up the stairs.

“They’re watching you!” she shouted after him. “They’re coming!”

When he got to the top of the stairs, he slammed the wooden hatch shut, then made his way to the living room and turned on the TV, switching from one news channel to another, his heart racing the entire time.

If Zee Gatley had somehow managed to mess things up for him, he would hang her by her toes and gouge her eyes out.

But there was nothing being reported on the news about a missing girl.

Calmer now, he went to his bedroom and crossed the room to where his desk sat in the corner, and turned on the computer. As he waited for it to boot up, he spotted the picture of him and his mom that was tacked to the wall. It was the only picture he had of the two of them. He’d been a baby at the time, and she was looking down at him with so much love.

He closed his eyes, imagining the feel of her arms wrapped around him, holding him so close he could hear the rhythmic beat of her heart.

If only she were here with him now.

A beep sounded, and it took him a few seconds to return to reality.

He typed “Missing girl in Yolo County” into the search bar. Dozens of headers with links popped up: Missing Woman Chained, Battered When Found