Page 38 of Missing White Woman

“We’re treating this as a homicide and will be continuing our full investigation as we work to identify the deceased. We are asking for the public’s help in this matter. We’ll be releasing some video footage captured in the alley behind Little Street.”

That last sentence jolted me back into the present. Finally.

“As you’ll see, there are two people alone in the alley,” he said. “The man appears to be chasing the woman.”

Say it. Share the date. So folks know there was no way Ty could be involved.

“The video isn’t long. Just a few seconds.”

Say.

The.

Date.

“However, we believe it may be related to the deceased found this morning. It was taken last Monday evening. Around 10 p.m.”

Adore let out a sigh. I felt just as relieved. He’d said it.

“Again, we’re asking for help identifying both people shown here. We believe the male may be a person of interest in this morning’s homicide.”

Yes. He straight-up had said what I knew and wanted everyone else to know too. Whoever was in that alley on Monday was the murderer.

The police chief turned to his left. Nodded. The offensive line all did too, and the camera zoomed out to reveal a large video screen. Both Adore and I instinctively leaned forward. Neither of us dared say a word. Not yet.

The footage was black-and-white, a camera trained on a square chunk of rough road. No one was in frame yet, but then a person appeared at the bottom of the screen. Her back was to us, but you could tell she was skinny. She wore no jacket, just jeans and a light-colored T-shirt. Her hair was also light. It hung straight to midway down her back. She walked quickly. No purse. Her hands in front of her like she was texting while walking.

The woman stopped, then turned abruptly and looked back, giving us a glimpse of her face. But it was only for a second because she turned back around. Took off again. She did a final quick double take back at the video’s edge, her pace so quick that she was out of frame within a nanosecond.

A moment later, another body came into frame, just as she had. But this one looked taller, bigger, male. He wore a hoodie so we couldn’t see his hair, but he was scratching his covered neck, his hand the only body part you could actually see. His pace was just as quick, so he was in and out before you could blink.

I waited, expecting more, to see them come back into frame, both running this time. Something—anything—to live up to the promise the police chief had laid out. Instead, the screen just went black.

The camera focused back on Chief King as he spoke again. “We know it’s short, but we think it’s important. As I said, we’ll be releasing the full video and we’ve taken a few stills we’ll also be distributing. A number’s been set up for anyone to call if they have information.”

He read the number off, then motioned again to the monitor. The first still was already on the screen. I stood up, walked past Adore to take a closer look. It was of the woman glancing back. Now that she was frozen in time, it was clear she wasn’t expecting someone to be behind her. She looked surprised.

She also looked like Janelle Beckett.

“The next still isn’t as clear, but we’re still hoping someone might recognize something about this man.”

The monitor switched. As promised, this one was the man’s back, his hand mid–neck scratch. With the black-and-white footage, you couldn’t tell what shade of brown it was other than medium. And other than obviously being brown, there was nothing remarkable about it. No wedding rings. No tattoos. No missing digits.

My eyes moved to the hoodie. Behind me Adore spoke, but I barely heard her, her voice petering out like I’d turned down her volume. “The hand looks Black, but it’s fine. I can call over now, let the police know that Ty hadn’t booked the Airbnb yet. You know what hotel he was staying at? Maybe we can get one of the desk attendants to confirm he was in his room at whatever time the video was taken…”

She was fully on mute now as I continued to stand inches from the television. I stared. There was a lone image on the back of the hoodie. An illustration of a light-skinned Black woman in a jean top and large, thick hoop earrings. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid that was casually placed over her left shoulder. Both hands were crossed over it and the rest of her chest. I recognized her immediately.

Sade.

I recognized the hoodie too. Ty had told me his mother had it custom-made for him last Christmas.

I turned the television off. There was nothing else I wanted to see or hear. I wrapped my arms around myself.

Adore came up beside me. “You worried about the hand?”

I shook my head because I wasn’t.

“Okay, good,” Adore said. “Because it could literally be anybody.”

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