Page 28 of What's Left of Us

“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 tomove. “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 prythe 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-”

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