Page 47 of Missing White Woman

No one was in the lobby, but I still didn’t leave. Just stared at my phone blankly as the elevator doors shut again. Not ready to face the world, I didn’t do anything. Just stood there in the safety of the elevator, and tuned back in. I wasn’t the only one crying. On my phone, Billie was too.

I’d seen the video three times at this point—enough to know what was coming next, but it still felt like a slap in the face when I saw it.

Ty and Janelle hugged up. Looking happy as hell while at it. I would’ve recognized that smile anywhere.

Billie spoke again, and I could’ve mouthed the words with her. “This wasn’t some random encounter. They knew each other. They were dating. Again. And I can’t help but keep thinking about that comment and wondering if something I said pushed her back toward Tyler Franklin. It made me realize I need to be more mindful of what I say. How I use this platform. Because I would never be able to forgive myself if I played even the smallest part in what happened to Janelle… If you know where Tyler Franklin is or can prove that’s him in that video hunting down Janelle Beckett, my DMs are open.”

Billie was smart enough not to switch from the picture as she spoke from the corner. Unlike the Ring footage, there was no doubt it was him. A younger, thicker version, but him nonetheless.

I stared at him smiling back at me until the video started over again. The TikTok loop.

I still didn’t stop it. Didn’t press Pause. Just watched—alone in that elevator. Not daring to move. Staring at the screen once again, hoping that this time the video would end differently. That it was some other Black guy hugged up on Janelle Beckett.

But it wasn’t. So I watched again. And again. And again. Until the elevator doors finally opened.

There were four of them. All male. All the same shade of brown, but different sizes, like Russian dolls placed side by side. They were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. The world had stopped. Now it was back moving again.

“Sorry.” But I’d mumbled it and I doubted they heard me.

I didn’t say it again. They parted and I barreled through, ignoring the security guard still standing by the entrance. He told me to have a good day anyway. I didn’t tell him that ship had sailed.

Outside, the day was still beautiful. It shouldn’t have been. It should’ve been thunder and lightning. A blizzard, even though it was already spring.

I tried to go through scenarios of how this information could make sense, because I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to believe in him. Even forced myself to think of the last audio message he’d left. He’d said he loved me.

But he’d also said he’d fucked up.

And as much as I wanted to go with my heart, my head was saying something else.

I quickened my pace, weaving through people on the street, bumping into a guy who refused to get out my way even though I was on the correct side of the sidewalk. It didn’t matter. I didn’t feel it. Too numb.

I rewound back to the first day we’d met, when Ty told me my shoe was untied. Then I fast-forwarded through the rest of our relationship, searching for signs I’d fallen for a man who could do what I’d seen in that foyer.

I hadn’t felt this naive—this silly—since the day I was arrested. And just like then, I got mad. I went to my phone messages, ready to delete his voice recording. Instead, I deleted the entire thread. Just as it disappeared, my phone rang. My mom. Once again, I was thankful to Past Me for giving her a special ringtone. It had been a good decision. Probably the only one I’d made in my life. Clearly.

I should’ve picked up. As unbearable as she was, she was still my mother. She had a right to know I was okay. We hadn’t spoken in days at this point. It wasn’t like me. But still, I ignored it. I couldn’t talk to her. Not yet.

Not with the Billie video replaying over and over in my head as I bumbled about aimlessly, speeding up when I wanted to stop, stopping when I should’ve moved faster. The photo of Ty and Janelle hovering over me like a cloud.

Then I saw the crowd. I’d somehow stumbled on Little Street. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe fate. Maybe it was God having a sense of humor.

The police tape and barriers were still up on this end of the street. I stopped on the opposite corner. Watched the crowd watching the police. Thinking of Janelle lying there on the floor, blood seeping from what looked like every part of her body.

Yes, Ty had hurt me, but now there was a good chance he’d hurt her far worse.

Breathing heavy, I bent down, hands on knees like I had finally gone for my daily run. When I did catch my breath, I reached into my bag and took out my phone. Then I made a call.

I was surprised I still had the number memorized.

* * *

Adore still knocked like she was the police. Hard, quick taps that screamed, I belong here, meant to convey a confidence that she finally seemed to possess. My cell was in the bedroom by the time she got to my hotel. Thrown in the tangle of sheets I’d left that morning. I’d gone for the out-of-sight, out-of-mind approach and failed miserably.

A Brush With Billie’s video still played on a mental loop.

Adore smiled when I opened the door, but it wasn’t one like she was glad to see me. It was the one you give when your friend’s finally realized you were right all along. That her boyfriend wasn’t shit. We’d given each other that look a lot in college. But the look took on a different meaning when you were talking about a murderer.

“I brought sustenance,” she said. Like this was just some average breakup bitch session.

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