Page 74 of Missing White Woman

“No one’s better at getting that than Billie.”

“You should’ve run it by me, Adore.”

“Like you should’ve run it by me before you went to the cops.”

“You would’ve told me not to do it.”

She looked at me again. “Exactly.”

“I know what it’s like to be accused of something you didn’t do. Have your life ruined.”

We finally hit a red.

“I know. Which is why I’m trying to stop it from happening again, Breanna. Billie probably has millions of DMs to get through before she sees mine. If you really want me to, I’ll unsend the message.”

But she kept both hands on the wheel like she was mid–driving test.

“Unsend it.”

“Fine. I’ll do it right now.”

She was in the right lane, so she was able to pull over. Neither of us said anything as she picked up her phone. I even played it cool as I watched the lock screen disappear out of the corner of my eye. By the time she’d opened Instagram, I’d already turned away, staring blithely at a McDonald’s.

“Crap,” Adore said.

I whipped my head around, leaning in even though my vision was still damn near perfect. Billie hadn’t just seen it. She’d responded: Interesting.

* * *

Like everything else in my life, I hadn’t changed my cell number in over a decade. T-Mobile made me call them, then had me hold a good fifteen minutes before I finally reached a human. Once I did, I was scared to say my name. But if Jared did think I killed Janelle Beckett, they didn’t say anything. Just walked me through each step until everything was taken care of.

None of my voicemails or audio messages were saved.

The only thing that would’ve stopped me from changing my number was Ty. I thought of that last message. Him telling me he loved me. But it was already long gone. Deleted when I’d believed he’d murdered Janelle Beckett. In that sense, the messages were right. I was a horrible person.

The T-Mobile rep warned me my call log would only stay on my phone until the next billing cycle. I’d also need to update all my accounts related to my number, which Jared threatened was better done sooner than later—otherwise I’d lose access to anything with two-factor authentication. But judging how things were going, that probably wasn’t a bad thing either.

I should’ve called my mother as soon as my phone rebooted. Let her know I was okay. Given her my new information. But I didn’t. She hadn’t believed me the last time. I was afraid how I’d react if she didn’t again. When I did talk to her, it would be to tell her they’d made an arrest—of someone else.

Instead, I opened TikTok. They’d found the account—not surprising—and had started tagging me in their own comments and videos. I ignored each and every one. Instead going straight to why I’d come: Billie’s account.

She’d posted nonstop since Janelle was first reported gone. Often several times a day. I was fully expecting her to have at least two posts in the time I’d gotten a new number and she’d responded to Adore’s DM with just one word. But there was nothing new. The last post was still the one where I’d been doxed. The comments, however, were World War III. And apparently there’d been a break-in at 110 Little Street. Another internet detective on the loose, no doubt.

I begrudgingly went back to my home page, then, in a masochistic moment, tapped, tapped, tapped, until I found my mentions. There were hundreds, maybe thousands. I clicked one at random, then immediately thought better of it. It was too late, though. The word “killer” jumped out at me like a jack-in-the-box. So did “drug addict.” “Psycho.” Combinations of all three.

I leaned on Adore’s kitchen counter, staring at comment after comment as they somehow came together to form one oversized monster that felt like it would haunt me forever. I had just zoomed in on one when Adore’s hand covered my screen. She hadn’t spoken much since we’d gotten to her place. “You’re safe. Internet comments are just that.”

I nodded. “I survived three months in jail. I can survive PrancerDancer1873542 condemning me to hell.” Of course knowing that still didn’t make me feel better. So I said it again, hoping to mean it. “I’m okay.”

Adore had called the hotel and checked me out over the phone. Now, at least, no one knew where I was.

“Your mom left a message on my work line.” Adore finally removed her hand from my phone.

“If my mother could find your number, it must not be that hard.”

“She’s the only one who’s been blowing up my work phone. No unknown numbers have called my cell. Not even spam. You’re safe here, Bree.”

“For now.”

---