I ignored the part about her wanting to leave. “Who is Terrance?”
She refused to look at me as she pulled on her black hoodie.
I moved across the room and grabbed her two hands. “Who is Terrance?”
“The guy from tonight.”
“You know him?”
She hung her head in shame. “He’s a bad man.”
I sat down on the bed and pulled her to sit down beside me. “Talk.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I need to leave.”
“You need to tell me what is going on. How do you know Terrance?”
A lone tear traced down her cheek. “He used to be my foster dad.”
I worked to tamper my anger. “What happened?”
“I was 16. And he’s a pervert.”
I. Would. Kill. Him.
“Did he hurt you?”
Her small shoulders shrugged. “He tried.”
“What happened?”
“He came into my room one night but…I stabbed him.”
I blinked. Trying to imagine a 16-year-old Zoey, petite and terrified, lying awake at night while that animal crept into her room. My nostrils flared as I worked to control my anger. “Then what happened?”
“I ran away.”
“Did he go to jail?”
She shook her head. “I told no one.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How did he get your money?”
Her entire body deflated, like all the fight, all the hope escaped out of her. “I saw him one night in the store. And then he was waiting for me the next time I went to the store. And then when I was with Bianca, he was standing across the street.”
“Did he approach you?”
“Not that time. Bianca must have talked to him because she let him upstairs.”
“Terrance came up here?” I repeated in disbelief.
“I didn’t know she would do that. And she left, and I was here alone with him.”
“Bianca let him into our apartment and then left you here with him?”
I would deal with Bianca later. I focused on Zoey.
She nodded, misery etched her features. “He wanted five thousand dollars. The only way I could think of getting him out of here was to give him my money.” She lifted her tear-stained face up to mine. “I knew he’d bring trouble. And I meant to leave, but I didn’t have any money. I need to buy a bus ride out of town.”