27
ZAC
At the end of the day, I was escorted out of the interrogation room and taken down an elevator to the jail because they’d decided to keep me overnight.
“You missed supper,” Gladys, the jailer, told me as she locked me in. “But here’s a bottle of water so you don’t dehydrate to death.”
I wasn’t thirsty, though. I wasn’t hungry. I just wanted out of there. I drank anyway, to help pass the night. I lay down on my cot for a while but never slept. And the hours passed so slowly. It felt as if I’d aged a decade by the time the sheriff came down to see me the next morning.
When I caught sight of him approaching, I surged upright, scrambling to my feet. “Anything? Did you find her?”
The sheriff shook his head, starting to look strained. “We’re going to get some boats out on the water,
