Page 93 of Missing White Woman

“No.” Ms. Morgane sounded resolute.

“You made it seem like they aren’t happy.”

“Because they aren’t. But she wouldn’t have an affair. Or be responsible for what happened.”

When I spoke, my voice was quiet. “I used to say the same thing about Ty.”

She didn’t say anything. We got to another corner, where we had to wait to let two cars pass. Her eyes followed the first, then doubled back to follow the second. “I know Rod goes to the gym Sunday morning. Always out the door by eight thirty.”

I glanced at my phone, then realized it was off. I’d forgotten to charge the battery. “What time is it?” I said.

Ms. Morgane smiled mischievously. “Eight thirty-eight. Let’s go.”

I put ten-year-old “My mother is calling me because dinner is ready” me to shame in how fast I booked it. Ms. Morgane was neck and neck with me too, like it was some race. She won. The Stevenson house was one of the few on the block protected by a wrought-iron fence. Ms. Morgane pushed the gate open so quick you’d think she was Superman, then we walked side by side along the ten feet of sidewalk and up those eight stairs.

It felt good to have someone with me—someone I could actually trust. She knew exactly where the doorbell was and had it rung before I even knew she’d pushed the button. I almost jumped as it played a few bars, then went silent. So were we.

“It can take a while if you’re on the fourth floor. Drives me nuts when Amazon doesn’t want to wait,” Ms. Morgane said.

I just nodded, not wanting to think about the last time I’d used the stairs next door.

But no one came. There were no windows anywhere near the front door. We had no clue if Lori Stevenson was four floors, four feet, or four inches away. There also wasn’t a Ring camera. Just an old-school peephole.

Ms. Morgane repeated the entire process three more times to the point even I was sick of hearing the doorbell ring. Finally, she took her hand off the button. “Someone’s coming.”

She smiled then and I recognized it. Perky Black Girl. I pasted on the same grin myself. We might as well have been selling Girl Scout Cookies. Finally I was going to get some answers.

There was that familiar slight crack of a door opening. We waited as the door slowly made its way inside the house. My smile faltered.

It was a man.

Rod Stevenson wasn’t on his way to the gym. He wasn’t even wearing workout clothes. I glanced at Ms. Morgane out of the corner of my eye and could see she was just as surprised as I was. The house was up a step, which made his tall figure loom over us even more. He took us both in, making no effort to open the screen door.

“Hi, Rod.” Ms. Morgane’s voice was butter soft. “Sorry to bother you, but I figured you’d be out and about already.”

“I’m not.” There were no smiles on his end. No attempts to be sweet or charming to put us at ease. He didn’t need to activate any Perky Black Girl.

“Well, we all need a day off.” Ms. Morgane was still smiling. “I’m here to chat with Lori.” As she spoke, her hand went to the screen’s knob. She pulled it. It didn’t budge. Locked.

“Lori’s busy.” He smiled even though he sounded the polar opposite. Like a man used to his words being heard. Listened to. Respected.

But Ms. Morgane wasn’t deterred. “It’ll only take a minute. I just haven’t seen her in person since everything happened next door.”

“I’ll tell her to call you.”

I could recognize a lie when I heard one. It helped he didn’t even try to sound sincere.

“Can’t you just tell her I’m here? She’s expecting me.”

“Yeah?” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, then I’m sure she’ll call you to reschedule. Have a good day.”

He closed the door, never so much as glancing in my direction.

Ms. Morgane didn’t look at me either, just made her way down the stairs toward the sidewalk. This time I trailed behind her.

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