Page 25 of Missing White Woman

“You okay?” she finally said.

I nodded.

“I tried calling you.”

“My phone’s still in the house. They won’t give it to me.”

And that’s when she finally turned to Randle. “You’re withholding my client’s belongings?”

“It’s still an active crime scene,” Randle said.

“My client’s phone was found next to the deceased?”

“I think I may have left it in the kitchen,” I said.

She was still looking at him. “Is that where her phone is? In the kitchen?”

He nodded. I spoke up again, channeling my anger, letting it finally bubble up to the surface. “Everything else is in the bedroom. All the way on the fourth floor.”

“We’ll get Ms. Wright’s things back to her as soon as we can,” Randle said.

She didn’t say anything. “Let’s go, Breanna.”

I got up.

“We have more questions for her,” he said.

“She’ll answer them when we come pick up her stuff. Tomorrow.”

She didn’t look back when she walked through the open door, just assumed I’d follow and Randle would stay put. I started after her, but Randle’s hand stopped me. He held two business cards. “Ms. Wright. Please let us know when you hear from Mr. Franklin.”

I went to take them, but the lawyer intercepted. Didn’t even look at either card as she put them in her bag. It was an Hermès. The same one I’d had on my vision board in college.

We went down the stairs, me staring at her red soles as she walked in front of me in my pink-soled ASICS. The suit didn’t have any telltale designer signs, but I was sure it was from a fancy label just like the shoes and bag. My only critique would be the piles of makeup—but even that was probably a designer brand.

I expected her to walk straight to the front door, but she went into the kitchen. No one was there to stop us. We walked to the back door, then out into a small backyard the same size as the one behind the Airbnb.

She kept going down the stairs and onto the lawn, her heels knowing better than to sink into the grass. The backyard was gated, but there was a door that led to an alley. A shiny Tesla sat parked, not a speck of dust on it despite its location. She went straight to the driver’s side. The door beeped as it unlocked. She paused when she saw me standing at the gate. “Get in,” she said.

I took her in again. The hair. The suit. The bag. Thought of the way she had introduced herself. She was everything College Me had wanted to be. Owned everything I’d wanted to have.

I shook my head.

“Fuck you, Adore.”

@ABrushWithBillie TikTok

528 Following 1.3M Followers 5.3M Likes

Billie Regan sits in front of the camera. Her makeup looks streaked, and wisps of hair are coming out of her ponytail. Her face is almost the same pale pink as her hair. Tears rim her blue eyes.

“Sorry, y’all, but I wanted to confirm everything before I posted. A follower in Jersey City DMed me about an hour ago to tell me that police are gathered at a house on Little Street in the Paulus Hook section of Jersey City.”

She uses her left hand to put her pink hair behind her ear, but it just falls back in her eyes.

“There are reports that a woman’s body has been found inside. My follower says the woman’s appearance is consistent with Janelle’s.”

She pushes a wisp of hair out of her eyes again. They’re watery.

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