Page 79 of Missing White Woman

“This is ridiculous. I just need five minutes to talk to Billie, convince her to stop making people think I had something more to do with this.”

I flashed on the blood, the hair, the hands, but this time it was quicker to push it away.

“I’m a victim here. Ty is too.” I realized what I’d said. “Was. Ty was a victim.”

I’d been so focused on myself that it felt like I’d forgotten about him. But he was still being vilified. We needed to figure out what had happened, to clear his name as much as mine. I owed him that, since he was no longer here to do it himself.

“I can message her again,” Adore said. “It’ll bump the message to the top of her queue at least. Better odds she’ll see it.”

But I was already shaking my head. I needed to be seen—in real life. Not in some DM. And that meant only one thing. “The vigil’s at sunset?”

“No.” Adore’s voice was sharp.

But my mind was made up. “So that’s, like, 7:30?”

She had her phone again. “‘Breanna Wright deserves to fry.’ ‘Breanna Wright will rot in hell.’ ‘Someone should kill Breanna Wright the same way she killed Janelle.’ And you want to go to where these people are?”

But that last comment just made me think about Janelle’s body. The pictures of Ty that the medical examiner had shown me. “Yes.”

She said nothing. I went to my handbag, pulled out my sunglasses and face mask. It only took a sec to put them both on. I tried to keep it light even though I felt like I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. “Look, a disguise.”

“And when it gets dark?”

“I’ll be one of those jerks who wear their sunglasses at night. They’ll think I’m some celebrity.” It was a struggle to sound unbothered. Images of Janelle and Ty were still on my mind.

“These are the people who harassed some random Black man just trying to pick up a prescription at CVS.”

“So you’ll come with me. Give them only a fifty-fifty chance of thinking the Black girl is me.” I took off the glasses and mask. “I can’t spend the rest of my life hiding in your very, very, very nice guest room, Adore. You’re the one who suggested I talk to Billie. Those threats just prove it needs to be as soon as possible.”

It took a moment for Adore to speak. “Okay, but let me get you a hat. You look ridiculous in the sunglasses.”

I called after her as she walked away. “But they’re from Target.”

* * *

“Remember what I said. No matter what she says, keep your cool.”

Adore still wasn’t happy about the vigil logistics, only agreeing to help me if we spoke to Billie before it started, then hauled it back to her place. Now she was acting like we were preparing for a cross-examination in the court of public opinion.

I nodded. “Yep, and if there’s something I don’t want to talk about, I just look at you and you’ll save me.” I gave her a smile as we stepped into the crosswalk. “It’ll be fine.”

It turned out Hamilton Park was just a ten-minute walk from Adore’s apartment. I would’ve thought the fresh air would make me miss my morning runs. Instead, I just felt stifled, sweat clinging to me like I was fresh out of the shower. The mask and hat didn’t help, but I didn’t dare take either off. They were already right up there with my childhood blankie when it came to emotional-support objects.

We were almost to the corner when I saw the first of them crossing the street. Just two initially. One with a poodle. They all wore pink—even the dog. I instinctively slowed, not wanting to literally cross paths. It worked too because none of them looked in our direction. Canine included. And by the time we got to the corner, they were pink dots in the distance.

I felt better—until we actually got to the cross street. A steady stream of pink was making its way into the park, and another handful of attendees were stationed at the entrance next to a set of tables. Volunteers. They handed out unlit pink candles as skinny and tall as strippers’ stilettos and plain pink balloons as round as their asses.

Someone brushed my arm as she pushed past.

I cursed myself for not listening to Adore, for thinking a face mask and droopy hat would be enough to feel protected. To feel safe. I could’ve been at her apartment at that very moment, drinking red wine out of a stemmed glass until I was ready to sleep it all off on white Tencel sheets. Instead, I was here.

“Guess we shouldn’t have ignored the pink memo.” Adore looked at me, expecting a laugh. I couldn’t even manage a smile. “You okay?”

I wiped the sweat from my brow. “Yeah, it’s just the heat.” Another lie.

“Then we shouldn’t waste any more time. Just stick with the plan. Find Billie. Talk to her. Leave. We’ll be in and out before you know it.”

I nodded but didn’t budge. Though I also didn’t object when she pulled me toward the conga line snaking its way to the vigil. Everyone else was way more excited to be here than I was, their animated voices overlapping. I didn’t look at any of them too long, much less make eye contact or say hello.

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