Defending Zara (Mountain Mercenaries #6)(49)

Maybe she was too afraid of being judged again. The disparaging attitudes of the FBI agents were still fresh in her mind.

The DNA results had come back two days after she’d arrived at Meat’s house, and had proven what she’d been saying all along. She was Zara Layne. There was no doubt about it. She’d talked to the lawyer who’d been overseeing the trust her parents had left, and she’d already received her first monthly stipend just the day before. Twenty thousand dollars was more money than she’d ever seen in her life—and it wasn’t even near what she was owed for the last seven years, which totaled well over a million. That would follow in the days to come.

Just the idea of having so much money at her disposal was unbelievable.

Meat had taken her into town, and they’d opened a bank account, where the rest would be deposited directly, and Zara knew she should be relieved that she had a means of supporting herself, that she wouldn’t be homeless. But she still couldn’t bring herself to get too excited about the money.

Today, her grandparents were coming to Meat’s house to talk with her, and she was both dreading and looking forward to it at the same time. At first they hadn’t wanted to travel from the Denver area down to Colorado Springs, even though it was only about an hour’s drive. But Meat had told them in no uncertain terms that Zara was still recovering, and if they wanted to see their granddaughter, they needed to make the trip.

All in all, she had little to complain about. She had a roof over her head, and Meat was an amazing housemate, attentive, though he gave her space when she needed it.

But . . . Zara couldn’t deny that she was lonely.

Even though she’d been on her own in Peru, she was never truly alone. Especially after she’d found Mags, Bonita, and the others. She missed talking to women who knew how she felt, who’d had the same kinds of experiences she’d had. Zara had no doubt Chloe, Everly, Allye, Morgan, and Harlow were nice, but she had little in common with them. Well, except for Morgan.

Zara wouldn’t have minded sitting down with Morgan to learn how she’d felt when she came back to the States after her kidnapping, but she wasn’t sure how to ask to speak to just Morgan without offending the other women. They were all very close, and the last thing she wanted was to piss them off.

After her shower, Zara chose to put on a pair of black slacks Chloe had brought over for her, instead of the jeans she’d been wearing most days. She also put on a feminine pink top instead of one of Meat’s T-shirts, which she’d been wearing around the house. She felt uncomfortable in the more formal attire, the material of the top almost scratchy against her skin, but Zara tried to ignore it.

Doing her best to brush her hair and make it look somewhat presentable, she gave up when her too-long bangs kept flopping onto her forehead and the curls at the back of her neck stuck up a bit too much.

She went downstairs, and the first thing Zara did was check her email. Meat had set up two accounts for her—one for media inquiries and the general public, and a second private one for communications from her lawyer and himself . . . and anyone else she decided to share it with.

Every news source between California and New York had emailed her. She got upward of eighty requests a day for interviews, and journalists were constantly pleading with her to let them tell her story.

It was annoying and flattering at the same time.

Meat had offered to screen the emails on the public account, but Zara had refused. Information was power. That was how it worked in the barrios too. The more you knew about your enemies, and friends, the better off you were.

Zara had never heard of most of the people who’d emailed her, but she carefully researched each and every name, just to see what they’d already been saying about her and her ordeal. She knew at some point she’d probably need to give her side of the story. Some of the news stories she’d already seen were so sensational and so out there it was laughable.

One man claimed a “source” had told him Zara’s parents were alive and well and hiding out in Colombia because the mob was after them. Another said Zara had been adopted by a wealthy Peruvian couple who worked for the government and kept her hostage in their house, and she’d just now managed to escape. A third claimed she was a spy working for the communists in Peru, sending top-secret information back to them so they could overthrow the United States government.

It was all fairly bizarre and ridiculous, but knowing who was saying what, and researching who wanted to interview her, gave her something to do.

This morning when Zara opened her emails, she had the usual outrageous number of reporters begging her to talk—but there were also two emails she hadn’t been expecting in her personal account.

The first was from her uncle, Alan.

Zara,

This is your uncle Alan. I got your email from my mom. I’m glad you’re alive. We didn’t know what to think when you disappeared after my sister was killed.

Can we talk about the trust? You’ve been gone a long time, and I understand from what’s been said on the news that you haven’t been to school since you went missing, so all the ins and outs are probably confusing to you. I’m happy to sit down and explain what it all means.

In three more years, the money would’ve gone to me, and I could’ve done a lot to help out my parents and make sure they were taken care of in their golden years. You might not know this, but they’ve struggled recently, and it’s only fair that some of that money go to immediate family.