Page 50 of Missing White Woman

Adore was right. Just like always.

And I still didn’t listen to her.

Just like always.

Instead, I compromised and made my pages private.

* * *

I was up early yet again, which was how I knew that Janelle’s sister had finally agreed to do an interview with one of the national news networks. They broke it up into two parts and teased it on their morning show. Her name was Denise, and she was an older, bigger version of her sister. In one snippet, she looked somber. “Janelle changed after our parents died. We each handled it differently. I had to get out of New Jersey, but she stayed as if stuck and kind of withdrew from everyone.”

She spoke as they showed a childhood picture of the two of them, smiling while wearing Mickey Mouse ears, obviously happy to be at Disneyland. Once again I was struck by how alive Janelle looked.

Present-day Denise Beckett dabbed tears with a crumpled white tissue.

“Have the police contacted you?” the unseen voice said.

“Not yet.”

“When is the last time you talked to your sister?”

And that’s when she stopped mid-dab and stared directly at the unseen interviewer. “It’s been months. We got into a fight over something I now realize was silly. I lost my parents. I wish we’d realized when they died how short life is.”

I was thinking her words over when my phone rang. My mother, calling me at a time when she knew I’d be asleep. And normally I would’ve been if I hadn’t been kept up by my brain thinking about Ty and Janelle—what had happened to them both.

I was tempted to not answer again, but I thought of the interview with Janelle’s sister. She’d give anything to talk to her family again. I was ignoring mine. I accepted the FaceTime. It was 7:30 a.m., yet my mom had her “face” on. She sat on her side of our couch, my acne-covered high school graduation photo lording over her.

She flinched when she saw me. “You must be having a good time.”

I was not, so I didn’t say a word. Just wiped the tears-turned-crud out of the corners of my eyes before she said anything about it. “How’s Grandma doing?” I said instead, realizing if I didn’t get back soon my mom would need someone else to come take care of her.

“Yesterday was not a good day. She’s still asleep, so we’ll see how today goes. But I don’t want to talk about your grandmother. How’s it going? Your trip with your Mystery Man has to be going well if you decided to stay a few extra days. I’ve tried to be patient but couldn’t take it anymore. I figured I’d catch you early before you two got on with your day.”

She smiled then, full pink lips separating to show perfectly white teeth. For a second, I was tempted to lie.

“You hear what happened to that girl who went missing?” I said.

“That white woman? Janelle something or other? I know I sent you that. Almost called you too to tell you to be careful, but then I heard her ex-boyfriend did it.”

My ex-boyfriend did it.

She spoke again. “Just goes to show you can’t trust anyone.”

She was right about that. My phone buzzed. Adore. I went to check the text.

“Why did the screen go black?” my mom said.

“Got a text from Adore.” I had murmured it absentmindedly, then realized what I’d said.

I winced, not having to see her to know her expression. I quickly licked my lips to wait her out. It took only a few more seconds. “Adore Smith.”

More statement than question. Neither of us needed a Google search to know that there was probably only one person with that name in this universe.

“Why are you talking to that woman?” My mother didn’t curse, but then she didn’t need to. She somehow had made “woman” sound like the synonym for female dog. “I warned you about her.”

She warned me about everybody. She didn’t like anyone, including me, though she’d never admit that. Loved me? Yes. Too much. Liked me? Completely different story.

“She’s changed, Ma.”

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