Page 77 of Missing White Woman

“They change the code after each guest. The neighbor wouldn’t have had access to it.”

“And you know this how?” Adore said.

“Because he told me.”

Again with the “he.” This time I was happy to hear it.

“Andrew Martin?” I made sure my voice was loud enough to carry.

“You know I can’t tell you that.” Calloway sounded amused.

Over the games and the BS, I went back to the couch to grab my newly numbered cell, then ran up the stairs to the spare bedroom. Ignored Anderson Cooper, muted on the TV.

I was surprised when Ms. Morgane picked up.

“I tried to call you when I saw the news,” she said after I identified myself. “Got worried when that voice said your number was no longer in service. How you holding up?”

She sounded like she really wanted to know. It was a nice reminder that the entire world didn’t hate me. So for once I didn’t even attempt to lie. “Not good. I had to check out of the hotel because the entire internet found where I was staying. They found my cell number too. Reason I had to change it.”

“Oh, Bree. I’m so sorry.”

It didn’t help that I looked up to see my mug shot. CNN’s scrawl underneath it. It took everything not to cry.

“You there?” Ms. Morgane said.

“My mug shot is on television.”

There was a pause, then Ms. Morgane spoke. “Okay.”

I pinched my nose as if that would create a dam in my eyes. But they still overflowed.

Ms. Morgane spoke again. “That mug shot doesn’t define you.”

But it did. It had for the last twelve years. “Everyone thinks I did it.”

I wasn’t sure if I was talking about now or then—or even if it mattered.

“Did you?” Ms. Morgane said.

“No.” My voice was quick. Emphatic.

“Then honestly that’s all that matters. You hold your head high regardless.”

I didn’t say anything, but I heard her. Just like I heard what she said next.

“Screw all those people. Screw the ones on TV. Screw the ones on the internet. Screw the ones out here all time of night, even trying to break in.”

I wiped the tears away, exhausted. Happy to talk about something else. “I heard about that. What happened?”

“Beats me. I woke up at about 3 a.m. to flashing lights outside my window. Didn’t even bother to put on real clothes. Just rushed out in pajamas to see what was going on, but one of the neighbors already had called it in.”

My hand dropped. “Drew?”

“No. I’d been trying to call you because I found out who watches that house when it’s empty. It’s Rod and Lori right next door. Guess he’s been super vigilant since they got back from their trip. Heard some noise and immediately went outside.”

I remembered Rod from when we went to pick up my stuff. He and his wife had been out of town when Janelle was killed.

So much for Andrew Martin.