Page 10 of Missing White Woman

My phone wasn’t on the nightstand or in the bathroom. After searching for a few minutes, I found it under the bag I’d abandoned by the door in our rush to get into bed the night before. A few texts from my mom and my latest work bestie—an eager college senior named Alyssa. I ignored them both as I grabbed a handful of Muddy Buddies from the nightstand. Breakfast of Champions.

After some creative begging on my part, Ty had finally relented last night and told me the plan for today: the tourist hot spots we’d missed the day before. I was more excited than I wanted to admit to go to the top of the Empire State Building.

The skylight clued me in that it was another beautiful day. I threw on some fresh running gear, laced up my sneakers, and went down a flight to find the office door open and my boyfriend inside.

Ty had made himself right at home, or should I say work. His laptop was open. A mishmash of numbers filled a complicated spreadsheet with more shades than a Benjamin Moore paint palette. The desk beside him was clean except for a mouse, what looked like a jump drive, and a glass of amber liquid that had to be Coke. Ty was addicted. He was in some large captain-style black chair, typing away with his back to me, when I came up from behind and put my arms around him like this was some cheesy commercial.

His fingers didn’t stop moving, but he leaned back into me. “I was hoping to get this done before you woke up.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go for a run.”

He smiled, fingers still going at it. “Oh, you don’t want a rematch of yesterday, huh?”

“You’re the one who made breakfast.”

“Yes, but I had you there when we got to the corner of our block.”

“You mean before we started sprinting?”

“Touché,” he said.

“I mean, if you want a rematch…”

“I would, but I have to work.”

“Right.” I kissed his cheek. “Be back in, like, forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll be done by then. Promise.”

“You can make breakfast if you aren’t. This time I’m thinking omelets.”

“On it.” But his voice was already distracted, lost deep in the spreadsheet rainbow.

Future Vice President.

The smile stayed with me down both flights of stairs and into the living room to do my usual pre-run stretch. It was still with me a few minutes later when I went outside. But then I saw the group gathered on the sidewalk next door, and my smile up and disappeared. Five people huddled this time. I recognized just one, though he’d switched his shirt from orange to yellow. The others clustered around him like he was relaying an offensive play.

He glanced in my direction, then abruptly looked away like he hadn’t seen me at all. I hesitated, immediately wanting to retreat. Then realized how silly that was. What would Ty do? WWTD? He’d walk down the stairs, give them a grin, then start his run. But by the time I smiled, they’d all turned away.

I walked toward the sidewalk, their voices at library level but getting more clear as I got closer. The ringleader moved his hands as he spoke. “… the detective told me to call their tip line.”

An older woman with her hair in a bun chimed in. “Maybe she just needed to get away…”

The man—Drew—glared at her. “She loves Puffy. She’d never up and leave him like this. Have Lori or Rod seen her? She and Lori are close.”

The one in the bun glanced at me, then stepped closer to Drew. I took off on a light jog. “They’re out of town at that convention he goes to, but I spoke to her before they left. Lori was just as worried as the rest of us.”

Drew’s voice trailed after me. “I’m gonna try her landlord again.”

I followed the same path as the day before, because it didn’t require me to think. The time flew by, probably because I was too busy wondering about Janelle Beckett. The neighbors had been hard at work. Pink flyers were tacked to every street sign I passed and more than one tree, Janelle Beckett smiling at me in each one.

It had to be a boyfriend. That’s what the true-crime shows said, right? It was always the partner. But then I remembered what Ms. Morgane had said about Janelle being single. That made it scarier. If it wasn’t a boyfriend, that meant it could be anyone and it could happen to any of us.

When I got to the next red light, I stopped abruptly instead of jogging in place like normal. I didn’t start moving again until I got my Mace out of my running belt and it was securely in my right hand.

The football huddle was gone by the time I got back. It actually made me more afraid, and for once I was happy to pick up the pace until I got back to 110 Little Street, rushing inside like this was some horror movie and not the nicest house on some expensive block. Ty wasn’t downstairs when I slammed the door shut. I immediately felt silly about it all. It was broad daylight. Even though I was tired, I bounded up both flights of stairs, calling out to Ty as I reached the third-floor landing, hoping all traces of ridiculous fear were gone as I spoke. “I don’t smell any bacon…”

The office door was closed.

---