Page 76 of Missing White Woman

“My name.”

Or maybe not.

I got up to head to the fridge a few feet away. Adore didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge I was no longer beside her.

“It’s about Breanna Wright’s arrest,” Billie said.

Of course it was. I got to the fridge and just stopped. Listening.

“I heard from someone who’d dated her best friend in college,” Billie said. “Was there the night of the arrest.”

Adore was my best friend in college and she’d dated only one person junior year. Keith.

“That asshole,” Adore said.

It wasn’t the first time she’d said it. She’d used it so much in college, I almost thought it was his middle name. She was right, though. He was an asshole. One who’d apparently still use any opportunity to get some shine—especially since his football dreams never worked out.

“He says Breanna Wright was partying it up that night.”

I’d barely stayed an hour.

“Had a lot of alcohol.”

Half a glass.

“Left the party in a huff.”

Because he’d insulted Adore. Again.

“Turn it off,” I said.

“But—”

“Please.”

Billie’s voice disappeared. I didn’t bother to say thank you. Just finally opened the fridge and stood there, the cool air washing over me.

“Bree, I’m so sorry. I haven’t spoken to Keith since we broke up right before graduation.”

I would’ve cared about that back then. But now it was inconsequential. I tried to reason with myself. Tried to tell myself the same BS I would tell Adore in a few minutes. That this was a good thing. Exaggeration aside, good old Keith hadn’t shared anything new. Folks had probably already googled my arrest enough that I was up there with Jesus himself in most-searched phrases. That it was good poor Drew wouldn’t be subjected to the treatment Billie had given Ty and now me. No one deserved this.

But I couldn’t lie to myself as easily as I could lie to the rest of the world. Because now that I was standing here knowing Billie wasn’t going to move her spotlight from me on over to Drew, I could admit it was what I’d wanted.

Behind me, Adore had her phone on speaker. “I’m calling Calloway,” she said, even though I hadn’t asked. “Maybe she got your note. She could already be asking the neighbors about that Airbnb review. All of them. Just not Drew.”

“Maybe.”

“Calloway.” The detective’s voice rang through the air, and I finally closed the fridge door. Still didn’t turn around, though.

“It’s A. Kristine McKinley. I’m here with Breanna. We wanted to see if you got the note we left.” I ignored Adore’s sudden use of “we,” but only because I was just as curious about the answer.

“I did.” Calloway followed it up with silence.

After what felt like an eternity, Adore spoke again. “So you saw the screenshot?”

“I did.”

This go-round, Adore waited only a few seconds before realizing Calloway wasn’t going to elaborate. “I’m assuming you’re looking into it. It’s quite damning a neighbor would have access to the house like that, especially since we know someone brought Janelle Beckett there in the middle of the night while Breanna slept upstairs.”

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