Page 20 of Missing White Woman

SEVEN

It was all Adore’s fault.

She was the reason I’d even gone to that party—and the reason I’d left it so quickly. We’d met in middle school when Adore got a scholarship to our private school and would travel forty-five minutes to attend class, but we really got super close when we both went to Morgan State. She was always more mature than I was, probably because she was from DC. I’d looked up to her in middle school from the moment she stood up to the class bully, and I was overjoyed to finally be her friend in college.

We were the only people we knew—and back then that was all you needed to start a friendship. Luckily, it became something more as we bonded as you can only do in college when you’re experiencing so many adult firsts together.

She was the person who helped me cram for a test. The person who gave me a condom when I told her my boyfriend and I were going to finally have sex, then handed me tissues when he and I broke up. The person who encouraged me to take the LSAT when my mom made me feel like she knew I wouldn’t score high enough. The one who became so close that people thought we were actually sisters—even though we were opposite in looks, personality, and focus.

It wasn’t just our backgrounds—me the only child of middle-class parents, her the product of a single mother in DC. Adore was outgoing. Even then I was more quiet. I’d come to college to be a lawyer. She’d come to meet her husband.

She’d been attached at the hip to Keith since they met at the end of spring semester junior year and seemed to want to spend all summer with their tongues down each other’s throats. I didn’t mind much. I was too busy studying for the LSAT.

Still, I hated seeing them together. How she acted. How he acted. How they acted together. Volleying between fighting and making up like some tennis match and it was love–45.

Keith was an asshole. A cute asshole but an asshole nonetheless. A year behind us, he was the star of the football team. Not saying much considering Morgan wasn’t a football powerhouse, but still. He seemed to think he was destined for the NFL. Adore did too, which was why she put up with so much of his mess. Just in case.

So I wasn’t surprised they’d been fighting when I got to the party. I was more than happy to leave early—the LSAT was just a week away and I was able to take it only three times. I’d barely been there an hour when she demanded we go, dragging me to my car. We’d only driven to the corner before Keith caught up and begged her to stay. It didn’t take much convincing—even though I told her not to fall for it. She was out of the car so quick, she left the bag of fries she’d brought with her.

It was all Adore’s fault.

She was the reason I ran that light—too busy thinking about if she’d call again in a few minutes, begging me to turn back around. I didn’t even see the police car until the lights were flashing behind me. The cop was young and white, wearing his need to be in charge alongside the badge that said DOMINGO. And I’ll admit, I wasn’t very friendly at first—I didn’t do much to hide my annoyance. I didn’t follow any of the rules my mother had told me about being stopped by the police. I had an attitude. They called it “resisting arrest.”

But that didn’t give Domingo the right to claim he smelled marijuana. Or to “ask” that I get out of the car. And it sure didn’t give him the right to plant weed in my back seat. I’ll never forget when I saw it in his hand. The Halloween baggie with an orange pumpkin on it that they sold at Target.

I was arrested and convicted of possession. The cops didn’t believe me that it wasn’t mine. My mother and lawyer didn’t as well—all because my mother had found weed in my room when I came home after freshman year. I shouldn’t have listened when they said I should cop a plea, but they were persistent. I fought them for the entire year it took for my trial date to come. Finally, exhausted, I gave in right before the trial was supposed to start and took the deal.

I never got my degree. I was in jail when my classmates were at graduation. Due to a simple traffic stop and a crooked cop, I lost everything—from my friends to my scholarship to my will to fight. I was left wearing my conviction like a scarlet letter.

And now, I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not again.

Ty knew none of this—he and I had made a pledge to keep “the past in the past.” His idea. I’d readily agreed.

Another reason I didn’t want him to meet my mom. She’d be sure to mention it.

Thoughts bounced around my brain like a game of pinball and they all had one thing in common: fear.

Ty had to be on his way back by now. I turned to the corner to look for him. Instead, I saw a news van pull up, stopped by a police car blocking the entrance to the street. I had no clue who had called them, but it didn’t matter. What did was that the camera was turned on me as soon as they could get it ready. The fear ratcheted up.

I turned to the officer next to me, the one who had claimed the detectives were on their way. “Is there somewhere else I could wait?” There was no way I was going back into a cop car. I’d wait in the hot sun even if it meant becoming a spectacle.

“We can use my place.” I had already forgotten about Drew when he spoke up.

It was also when I realized the cops had gotten rid of all of the other neighbors too—though there was no doubt they were watching from their windows like this was a new show on Netflix.

“That would be great.” I was already walking before I finished my sentence, not wanting to give the patrolwoman a chance to think better of it.

Drew also had an open floor plan. Whereas 110 was all flip-or-flop grays, Drew was all beiges and woods. And I had to glance twice to realize the miniature couch in the middle of the room was for his dog.

The police took us both to the second floor and placed us in different rooms. I got what looked like Drew’s office. More dark woods and thick furniture. And yet another opulent mini couch. I took a seat on the weathered leather adult-sized one next to it. It was clear Drew spent more on dog furniture than his own. One of the patrol guys kept me “company,” his eyes glued to his phone. I recognized the Twitter app even from my spot across the room.

I didn’t say anything. Just forced myself to breathe. I’d tell them what had happened, and if I wasn’t comfortable, this time I’d ask to speak to a lawyer right away. Not that I had one, but it didn’t matter. Ty would get me one. He wasn’t like Adore, someone who didn’t bother to show up when I needed them. And he wasn’t like my mother, whose version of help was forcing me to do something I shouldn’t have.

It took the detectives an hour to get to me. This pair was mixed—in gender and race. A Black man named Randle and a white woman named Calloway. She was the one with the smile. She had a large designer bag in her right hand and a water bottle in her left.

Her partner stood back, letting her take the lead, like we were at some high school party. It just made me want to hug the wall as she glided over. I knew the question she wanted to ask me wasn’t if I wanted to dance.

I wiped the sweat from my palms onto my leggings. I was still dressed as a runner and I was sweating like one too.

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