Page 107 of Missing White Woman

I hadn’t been in an interrogation room since I’d been dragged into one in cuffs twelve years ago. It didn’t look anything like that one, but it didn’t matter because it felt the same—like the walls were closing in. Calloway hadn’t cuffed me, but muscle memory had me rubbing my wrists anyway.

She came in after an hour holding two paper cups. “I know you like your coffee.”

She set both down, then settled in across from me, smiling all the while. “I see you’ve been busy.”

She paused then, as if that was all it would take to get me to confess to the break-in. But the one advantage of being a convicted criminal is you already know how things go. I said nothing, and after a moment she spoke again. “I saw your Live. Lori Stevenson?”

I didn’t even nod.

“You screwed us over, by the way, with that. Bree, you’re a smart woman. But we’re smart too. We’ve already been looking into Lori’s disappearance and the strong possibility she’s the person you found. It’s just taken longer than we wanted to get a sample of her DNA. You want to know my theory? I think she was planning on disappearing while her husband was on his trip. Had been planning it for months. Maybe even years. Knew her husband had too much pride to report her missing. And she must have had help with it.”

Janelle.

“But she got help from the wrong people and paid for it with her life. And your Live just let Janelle Beckett know that she can no longer use Lori Stevenson’s identity.”

There was what I’d been waiting for, desperate to hear. Someone was onto Janelle—the cops at that. I should’ve been relieved, and yet. “She’s still here,” I finally said.

“Was still here,” Calloway said. “She’s moving from place to place. We don’t know where she is now.”

“Billie can tell you.”

“The chick on TikTok?”

“Yep. I’m sure she’s the same one who told you where I was.”

Calloway thought it over. “Someone called my direct line with a tip. Woman’s voice.”

“Exactly. You need to talk to her. She’s been in contact with Janelle. Probably helping her. She’s staying at the Regency. You should go now.”

But Calloway didn’t budge.

I, on the other hand, got fidgety. “Who knows how long she’ll be there?” I said.

“What was in the house, Bree?”

I didn’t answer.

She kept on. “Janelle has to be sticking around for some reason.”

“You can ask her yourself once Billie tells you where she is.”

“I’m sure you found it,” Calloway said. “Because you’re the only one of us who knew what she was looking for. I don’t care that you broke in. I just need to know what you took.”

Cops didn’t care about a lot of stuff, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t arrest you for it anyway. I couldn’t just magically hand over the drive without admitting where I’d gotten it—and I wasn’t sure I even wanted them to have it in the first place.

“So what was it?” Calloway said again.

“Go talk to her. Now. Or send somebody. I’ll stay in this room all night if you want. But just send someone to the Regency to talk to Billie Regan. We can be in side-by-side interrogation rooms.”

“Fine.” Calloway pulled out a set of cuffs. “Stand up.”

“Thought you didn’t care,” I said, but I sure as hell stood up as I said it.

“Turn around.” Calloway made no attempt to be gentle as she put them on, squeezing them tighter than necessary. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

Needless to say, I invoked my right. Just plopped down in the seat, staring at Calloway all the while.

“I can stay here all day too,” she said, then sat back down as if trying to prove it.