Page 21 of Missing White Woman

I had to remind myself I wasn’t under arrest. No one had read me any rights. I was just a witness.

Of course that didn’t mean I trusted these two.

She sat down next to me on the brown leather couch. It felt sticky even with the central air, like I’d have to peel myself off it like I had at my grandma’s house as a kid, where everything was covered in plastic.

Calloway took a minute to get settled, then smiled. I returned it, but mine didn’t come anywhere near my own pupils.

This wasn’t before. She wasn’t Domingo. I was going to be nice this time. Not cop an attitude. Do what my parents had taught me about acting right.

We both kept smiling as she got herself settled. Water bottle still in hand. Bag on the floor in front of her. My mouth was too dry to tell her it was bad luck. That she’d never have any money. My lips ached by the time she stopped moving, but still I smiled. Why were the fake ones always so much harder to maintain?

“Hi, Breanna. I’m Detective Mallory Calloway. That’s my partner. Detective Tim Randle. Wasn’t sure if you drank coffee, but everyone drinks water, right?”

She held up the bottle. Though I was thirsty, I didn’t grab it. Didn’t want her to see my shaking hands. “I’m okay,” I said.

She looked like she didn’t believe me but set it on the table in front of the couch anyway.

“Is my boyfriend here yet?” I said.

“Not that I know of. He’s the one who rented the house?” She glanced back at her partner. “Tyler Franklin?”

So that was the delay. They had been doing research. “Ty went to work this morning,” I said. “I haven’t spoken to him, though I’m sure he’s worried about me.”

“We can reach him for you. Let him know what happened. What’s his cell phone number?”

I wished I knew, but this was the twenty-first century and I had been raised with the entire world a push of a button away. Ty had been number one in my favorites for a month now. If I wanted to talk to him, all I had to do was press his name.

“I don’t have it memorized,” I said. “But you could try his office. It’s the JPMorgan office in Jersey City.”

Behind her, Randle spoke, his voice surprisingly high for how big he was. “I’ll call him right now. Anything you want us to tell him?”

“Just that I’m okay.”

When he left, Calloway placed her phone on the table. I glanced down to see it open to some app, the same one the patrolwoman had used. Calloway was looking at me when I glanced up.

“It’s some fancy new technology. Lets you take notes on your phone.” She wiggled the French manicure that jutted a couple of centimeters above each finger. “You can tell it wasn’t a woman’s idea.”

She waited for me to laugh, but I didn’t give her one so she kept on.

“I just had a few questions for you, then hopefully we can get you on your way.”

I nodded like I believed her. “You ID the woman yet?”

“Not yet. Unfortunately, the body is in pretty bad shape.”

I was quite aware. The image kept invading my thoughts. “She must’ve been almost to the second floor when she fell,” I said.

Calloway didn’t respond. Just stared at me a beat too long before finally speaking. “You told the patrolwoman you didn’t know her.”

I shook my head, swallowed back going on about her breaking in.

“And you didn’t see her?” she said. “She didn’t stop by before this morning?”

I shook my head.

“When did you check in?”

“Friday night.”