Page 69 of Missing White Woman

“Practically a native. Where from?”

I glanced at the app. Like going everywhere in Jersey City, the ride was less than ten minutes. “Baltimore.”

“Oh, I love Baltimore!”

“You’ve been?”

“No, but I’ve seen The Wire. You’re probably too young to remember that one.”

“I’ve seen it. You should visit Baltimore. Actually see other parts of the city. It’s really a great place to live.”

“I bet. It’s cool you even have a show set there. You never see anything set in Jersey City.”

“There has to be one.” I racked my brain, which for once wasn’t filled with thoughts of Ty and Janelle.

Ralph glanced back at me in the rearview. “See, you’re trying to think of one and can’t.”

I laughed. “Guilty. There are shows set in Jersey. The Sopranos. Best show ever.”

“Yeah, after The Wire.”

“Touché. You also have reality shows,” I said. “Jersey Shore. Real Housewives.”

“Not claiming those, and not just because they aren’t filmed anywhere near Jersey City.”

I laughed again and it felt good to mean it. I wasn’t normally one for small talk, especially not with strangers. But this time I was happy for it. It took my mind off where we were going, what I needed to do: walk into a police station of my own accord to convince them to at least look into the idea Ty was a victim, not the perpetrator. I tuned back in to our conversation. “There has to be some show set in Jersey City,” I said.

“Nope. Most people don’t even know it exists. I bet you only came here because it was so close to the city.”

I said nothing at first and he smiled.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You are,” I said.

“PATH or ferry?”

“PATH,” I said. “I was surprised how clean it was.”

“You gotta try the ferry next time. Just don’t drop anything into the Hudson. Of course everyone knows who we are now, thanks to that guy killing that woman. Bet you they probably won’t even shoot it here when they make the movie about it.”

And just like that, my smile disappeared—because to him we were still doing small talk. Instead of responding, I went to grab the water—solely for something to do. I didn’t even realize my hands were shaking until I struggled to pick it up.

Ralph was still yammering on up front, not even noticing I’d checked out. I’d just managed to get the bottle open when we pulled up to a beige building with JERSEY CITY POLICE written on the wall by the entrance stairs.

“Please don’t tell me you got robbed,” he said. “Believe me when I say we’re normally a very quiet area.”

I said nothing, just opened the door, even though he’d barely pulled to a stop.

“Breanna,” Ralph said.

But I was no longer interested in talking to him. I mumbled a goodbye, then hurried past a parked car and the covered outside seating for the restaurant next door. I was about to head toward the entrance when a woman in uniform came out.

Muscle memory kicked in. My throat tightened like it always did around cops. I’d figured since I was going voluntarily, I’d be mentally prepared. My body obviously felt otherwise.

This was not a good idea. At all. I took a big step back, then another. I was about to take a third when I bumped into someone. Ralph.

“You left your cell,” he said.