Page 66 of Missing White Woman

I went back to the listing. One hundred percent of guests had given the location a five-star rating. The first from someone named Tula. Great for families!

There was also Nathan, who highly recommended staying there.

And Roselle, who just adored the location.

I was jealous of them all. They had been able to have an amazing experience. I should’ve had one too. Just like I should’ve been back at home right now, counting the days until Ty came home while I shared my own ratings with my coworkers—even Perry, who I usually couldn’t stand.

I became a woman obsessed. Reading every single word of every single review. It wasn’t until I got to number thirty-two that I saw it. Sonia’d left something at the house. When she’d called the company that owned it, they’d asked her to speak to a neighbor. Apparently, one watched the place for them and would get it when they let in the cleaning crew.

“Adore.” I practically shoved the phone in her face.

It took her a second to read the review, another five to process what it said. I helped her along. “A neighbor has access to the house.”

Adore nodded. “Text that to me.”

“I wish she’d said a name. I’d love to contact her, but ‘Sonia’ isn’t much to go on.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s definitely Drew.”

She was probably right, but still. “I’d feel better if she’d said a name,” I said.

She didn’t answer. Just put her laptop on the square pleather ottoman doubling as a coffee table and picked up her phone.

“I’m calling Ms. Morgane again,” I said. “She might know.”

I called her on speaker. She sounded happy to hear from me so soon. It was nice. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time for small talk so I got right to it. “I was calling because I had a quick question. Have you heard of the company that owns 110 paying a neighbor to watch over the place?”

Ms. Morgane was quiet. “No one mentioned it to me. Why?”

“Nothing. If it was someone on the block, any idea who it might be?”

Adore yelled out. “Maybe Drew?”

“That would make sense. He’s across the street and nosy as hell.” Ms. Morgane squeaked out a laugh to let me know she was joking.

Adore gave me an I-told-you-so look, but it still wasn’t enough for me. “Can you ask around?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I zeroed in on Adore as soon as I hung up. “Adore, I mean it. Don’t do anything until we know it’s Drew.”

She still said nothing, but her face changed as she looked at her notifications.

“What?” I wasn’t sure I could take any more news.

“The police are doing a briefing,” she said.

“Now?”

I looked around for the remote, but Adore found it first and turned on the television.

If it weren’t for the word LIVE some CNN employee had thoughtfully put in big red letters, I would’ve thought it was footage from any of the other briefings. Same office. Same setup. Same collection of older men—and one woman—in the exact same order.

We were late enough that we’d missed the briefing part, but they were taking questions. I couldn’t see the press, but I could tell from the cadre of voices that there were a lot of reporters present. More than at the first briefing or the second. The voices in the ether shouted over each other as if the Ravens had just scored. But one was louder than the rest. “And who identified Mr. Franklin’s body?”

It must’ve been something they all wanted to know because the voices stopped so quickly I thought Adore had hit Mute. But then the chief spoke. “We’re not at liberty to say, but it was someone close to the victim.”

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