Needy Little Things(56)

I glance at Jude and he gives me an encouraging nod.

“Um. Hi, Detective. This is Sariyah Bryant. I’m a friend of Deja Nelson. You told me to call you if I thought I had something important to share.”

“Yes I did and I’m glad you’ve done that. What do you have for me?”

I clear my throat. “I was wondering if you’ve spoken to someone named Jahir Rincon.”

The line is quiet for a second too long. “Tell me what has his name on your radar.”

I talk to him for ten minutes, sharing everything I can remember about my interactions with Rincon at the festival that night. I tell him about the card and what just happened in the MARTA station. It doesn’t feel good. If Rincon didn’t have anything to do with Deja’s disappearance, the police are going to go sniffing around him for no reason. If he did, I befriended a monster and my judgment can’t be trusted.

“Come on,” I say once I end the call. “He wants me to bring the card to the station.”

“Do you have it on you?”

“Yeah.” I dig it out of Santa Bag and take a few pictures so I can still do my own research. I don’t know how things will play out with Rincon, but I’m not taking my foot off the gas pedal. If he is innocent, and I pray he is, then there is someone else out there who has answers. We need to keep things moving while the police look into him.





CHAPTER 23





As soon as I parted ways with Jude, I called Malcolm and updated him on everything. He’d been surprisingly quiet, then rushed off the phone. I bet he went straight to his laptop and started looking into Rincon. He won’t trust the police to do their job and I’m glad. Deja needs us all in on this.

I stop by the ATM to deposit my cash, feeling dirty when I take the hundred-dollar bill from my pocket. But money is money. The first thing I do when I get home is hop online and sign Josiah up for zoo camp. It’s only after I hit the confirm payment button that I realize I never actually confirmed with Mama that he would be allowed to go. There’s no reason she shouldn’t let him, now that the cost isn’t a factor. The sign-up form had a space to explain medical conditions and everything. Still, I walk down the hall and chance a knock on her door. It’s about time for her to be getting ready for work anyway. She doesn’t answer at first and I give another hesitant knock, muscles tense like I’m stirring a hibernating bear.

“Mama?” I call through the door. “Can I come in?”

She’s good about making it very clear if the answer is no, so I take her silence as a good sign. I crack open the door and peek in. She lies on her side, awake but motionless.

“Hey, Mama.”

“What do you need, Sariyah?” Her voice is soft. Sad.

I take a few cautious steps inside the room. “You know how Josiah and I went to the zoo the other day?”

She exhales loudly. “I already told him no. Heard about it last year. Too expensive.”

“Yeah, but—” I almost tell her I have the money. That I’ve already paid. I almost forget how prideful my mother is. “Jude has a cousin who works there. Josiah can do the camp for free.” The lie slips from my mouth effortlessly. There will be hell to pay if she takes a close look at my bank statement.

Mama continues to lie there, blinking too infrequently.

I rub my arm, afraid to say the wrong thing. “Can he do it? It’s during the first week of summer break.”

“Yes. Make sure he tells Jude and his cousin thank you.”

“Great! He’s going to be so excited.”

“Where is he?”

“At his friend Eddie’s place. He wanted me to ask you if he can stay the night. Eddie’s dad said it was okay.”

“That’s fine,” she answers without looking at me.

I glance at the clock. “Don’t you have to work this evening?” I make sure the question sounds mildly curious, not like I’m worried about her being late—even though I’m definitely worried about her being late. Especially seeing as how her hotel clothes are currently balled up on the floor.

She mumbles something.

“Ma’am?”

She scratches her calf, leaving grayish streaks on her dry skin. “I said, I don’t have a job anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

A laugh pops from her mouth, sarcastic and nasty. “It’s no wonder you’re barely getting by in school.” She sits up and downs what remains of a glass of water on her end table. “I got fired.”

“Fired?” I ask, eyes stinging from her comment about school.

“You going to make me say it again?”

“But why? I thought things had gotten better. I thought they understood you—”

“You thought wrong.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“Maybe if you leave me alone, I can go on and figure it out. Close my door on your way out,” she says to the floor. When I don’t immediately move, she hurls a box of Kleenex my way. “I said close my door!”

I back out of the room and pull the door shut, resisting the urge to open and slam it shut over and over and over. Resisting the urge to scream obscenities through the thin wood. To kick a hole through it. To tell her it’s not fair to dump whatever she’s going through on me. But then her cries filter through the walls and I realize that’s all she’s been trying to do. She made her bedroom a dungeon to contain herself and I forced my way in. Then had the nerve to be shocked when I got bit.