Page 81 of Missing White Woman

The woman stared Adore down. “Why?”

Adore was not impressed or intimidated. “I’d rather tell her directly.”

“Then you can wait.”

“That’s fine.” Adore moved to stand right next to the woman, but I lightly touched her arm. The last thing we needed was to bring attention to ourselves.

“No problem,” I said. “We’ll just come back later. Thank you.”

Adore let me drag her away but muttered under her breath as she did. “Asshole.”

“Last thing we need right now is to cause a scene,” I said.

“I was the one being nice,” Adore said as we skirted the back of the crowd. “And I wanted you to pee.”

I was more than fine holding it now.

“What do you want to do?” Adore said.

The plan had been to talk to Billie before the vigil and get out of there.

“Wait,” I said.

We’d come this far.

TWENTY-FOUR

Adore and I were on the outskirts when the crowd went silent. A lone figure walked up the set of stairs on the gazebo’s right. It wasn’t easy to see her with all the balloons, but there she was. In real life, Billie didn’t look much different than she did on my phone—it didn’t help that we were so far back she was probably the same size. She held a megaphone and a candle. No one said anything until finally a random voice yelled out. “Justice for Janelle!”

Billie smiled so wide even I could see it from way back as the crowd all started to yell and clap. She said nothing for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she brought the megaphone to her mouth. The crowd quieted once again as she spoke. “Justice for Janelle!”

More applause. This time she didn’t let it go for more than a few seconds.

“I just want to thank you all so much for coming here, wearing pink. Making sure to get your candles. I’ve already been seeing your great posts. But it’s important to remember why we’re here. Janelle Beckett. I have so much I want to say about her. About how society treats women. But before we do that let’s send these balloons to Janelle up in heaven.”

Billie was the first to let hers go, but it was soon joined by many more. It was only after Adore nudged me that I realized I still had mine. By the time I let it go, its peers were a good twenty-five feet up. It was as alone as I felt.

It was still slowly trying to catch up when Billie finally spoke again. “And now it’s time to light our candles.”

The woman who’d been guarding the bathroom door came up the stairs. Billie smiled at her gently as the woman whipped out a lighter. After her candle was lit, they hugged. I could hear her whisper “Thanks” as the crowd started to glow with spreading candlelight below her.

And it was then I realized we were the only ones who’d forgotten to bring a lighter. I glanced at Adore helplessly as the woman next to her smiled. “Y’all need a light?”

I nodded.

She leaned over and lit both our candles. Then she looked me dead in the face. For a moment, I thought she recognized me. But then she spoke. “Justice for Janelle.”

I paused, then nodded. “Justice for Janelle.”

Up ahead, Billie started to speak. “Four thousand nine hundred seventy.” She paused just long enough for us all to figure out what she was talking about. “That’s the number of women who were murdered in the United States last year. That’s almost two thousand more than two years before. I want to have a moment of silence for Janelle Beckett and for the thousands of women who’ve been killed and those who are missing. There’s also Kimberly Iron, Faith Lindsey, Sabrina Rosette, Cecelia Barber Finona. I could go on and on. I wish I could name them all. Because their lives are just as important.”

The crowd started to cheer, but Billie stopped it immediately. “Let’s bow our heads.”

They hushed.

I spent the time thinking about Janelle—how I’d found her. The blond hair. The blood. The jeans. And that made me think of Ty. The color of his skin in the photo from the medical examiner. And how I’d meant it when I’d told our neighbor, Justice for Janelle. Because she deserved it. But Ty did too.

The crowd was silent until Billie spoke again. “We miss you, Janelle.”

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