Chapter 21

21

There are two things that America is obsessed with: guns and beautiful women who go missing. Meredith wasn’t white, but she was beautiful, and she was a “huge TikTok sensation,” or so the news calls her. I was very much hoping that the police would consider the last message she sent—“I need a fucking break”—as a hint that Meredith chose to leave on her own volition. But I quickly learn that was merely wishful thinking.

The very next morning after Clara reported Meredith missing to the police, two detectives show up at my house. One female, one male. Detective Garza and Detective Clarke. And far from popular belief, they haven’t come as Good Cop, Bad Cop. They’re both really nice, actually. I have them take a seat at the dining room table and make them each a matcha latte, then I sit down across from them with Sabine on my lap and say, in my most earnest voice, “How can I help you, officers?” My insides are twistin g like trapped snakes, but I have prepared for this eventuality. I can do this. I must do this.

They smile at me. Detective Garza takes a sip of her matcha latte. I decide I like her more than Detective Clarke. “When was the last time you heard from Meredith Lee?” Detective Clarke says, flipping open a small notepad. I wonder why cops insist on writing things down on a notepad instead of typing into their phones like normal people do.

“Ah.” I grimace apologetically. “It’s been a while, actually.”

“Really?” Detective Clarke’s eyebrows rise. He still hasn’t drunk his matcha latte, and I wonder if this means he thinks I’m a suspect. “How come? Meredith’s sister said you’re her best friend.”

I press my lips into a thin, sad smile. “We were. But we drifted apart. You know how these things go.” Last night, as I lay awake in bed, I considered not telling the cops that Meredith and I had a falling out, but quickly dismissed it. It’s more than likely that Clara would’ve told them about our fight, and if they caught me out in a lie, I would be in deep trouble. Still, I don’t want them to know the extent of our fight. Best to minimize the damage unless they press hard.

“Did you two have a fight?” Detective Garza says.

“Sort of.” I sigh and bounce Sabine a little, so their attention is pulled to my cute, chubby baby. No one can possibly suspect a mother holding a cherubic baby in her lap. “We’re both momfluencers, and when I got big—”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Detective Clarke says. “Momfluencer?”

“A mom influencer,” Detective Garza says.

“Yeah, that’s right. We’re influencers who focus on mom-friendly content. You know, lots of life hacks about cooking and how to change a diaper efficiently—that kind of thing.” I purposely focus on the least exciting parts of the job, counting on these details boring the detectives, and I think I see Detective Clarke’s eyes glazing over ever so slightly. Good. He thinks I’m a dumb bitch whose life revolves around changing diapers. Dumb bitches whose lives revolve around changing diapers don’t murder their best friends and dump their bodies in a lake. “And when I got big, I think Meredith felt a little bit insecure about it. She decided she didn’t want to be friends with me anymore.” I let out a small, apologetic laugh. “Oh god, that sounds so childish, doesn’t it?” Ha ha, silly women and their silly little fights that definitely did not lead to murder.

Detective Clarke smirks. “A little.”

Detective Garza takes another sip of matcha latte but keeps her eyes on me. I think that maybe she’s not quite convinced just yet. As though reading my mind, she says, “How bad was this fight?”

I purse my lips. “I mean, we weren’t screaming at each other or anything like that.” We definitely were screaming at each other. “No name-calling.” You social-climbing bitch , Meredith had called me. You pathetic jealous loser , I’d called her. “It was more like disappointment, I guess.”

“And this happened when, exactly?”

I pretend to think. “I wanna say maybe five, six months ago?” It was four months ago, but who’s counting?

Detective Clarke leans back in his chair, looking bored. Since our fight happened so long ago, it’s looking less and less likely that I might have anything to do with her disappearance.

“I hope she’s okay, Detectives.” I sigh, shaking my head. “After our last talk, she blocked me, and I haven’t heard from her since. I sent her a few texts, apologizing, but she didn’t respond. I could still see her posts, though, so I assumed she was fine.”

“The posts were scheduled in advance,” Detective Garza says.

My eyes go wide. “So…wait, so you’re saying that for the last month, no one’s heard from Mer, and she hasn’t actually been posting to her social media accounts actively?”

Both detectives nod.

I sit back, stunned. “I—this whole time, I just thought she’s been ignoring me.”

“Didn’t Clara tell you she hasn’t heard from Meredith either?” Detective Garza says.

“Yeah, but I kind of assumed—well, Clara and Meredith’s relationship is kind of choppy. You know, sisters.”

“Sure, I understand,” Detective Garza says, “but you’re aware that Meredith also left her son with Clara, right?”

I nod.

“And you didn’t find that strange? That she would up and leave her only child and not even bother calling to check in on him?”

Shit, shit. This interview is slipping away from me, and I need to grab it back under control, fast. I pinch Sabine’s butt cheek and she squirms and starts fussing. “Sorry, I need to feed this one real quick. Could you?” I stand and hand Sabine to Detective Garza without waiting for her to agree. I note Detective Garza’s discomfort, and Detective Clarke, surprisingly, holds his arms out, and Detective Garza hands Sabine over with obvious relief.

I bustle about, taking a prepared bottle of formula from the fridge and heating it up, my mind whirring away as I wait for the bottle to warm up. How best to answer this question?

“Sorry about that,” I say, shaking the bottle as I return to the dining table.

“No worries; she’s a cutie,” Detective Clarke says, standing up and passing Sabine to me gently.

Sabine grabs the bottle with her chubby hands and starts sucking furiously. I smile down at her with unabashed affection. I know exactly how I must look right now—loving and safe. Completely unlike their usual suspects. “Sorry, I totally forgot what we were talking about.”

Detective Garza leans forward. “You’re a mom, Mrs.Palmer,” she says, nodding at Sabine. “As a mother, don’t you find it strange that your friend left her child and never bothered to even text to ask about him?”

I let the sadness wash over me. “Well, yes. Obviously. It’s unthinkable. My world revolves around my kids. But…” I sigh and look away for a moment, gearing myself up to say something difficult. Something ugly and harsh. “I’m not judging her; I swear I’m not. But Meredith…she wasn’t ready to be a mom. Not really. She went through a bit of postpartum depression, and I got the feeling that she never quite bonded with Luca.”

Detective Clarke sits up, suddenly alert. “Postpartum depression?”

Jesus, of all the things that he notices, it’s this one?

“My wife went through that after our second was born,” he says. “It was really rough. Did Meredith see anyone about it? Did she talk to you? Take any meds?”

Shit. I’d just thrown that out there without thinking. Why the hell did I do that? “No,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if it was actually postpartum depression. I don’t know much about the condition. I just meant like, she wasn’t—she was emotionally unprepared to raise a baby on her own. So it was a struggle. Did Clara mention how often Meredith had to ask her to look after Luca?”

Both detectives nod.

“Yeah, so. Do I think it’s weird for a mother to leave her baby behind with her sister and not even bother to check in on him? Yes, I do. But do I empathize with that mother? Yes. It’s tough, raising kids, and I can’t imagine how hard it must be doing it alone.”

“Hmm,” Detective Clarke says, nodding.

My thoughts chase their own tails in a circle: Did-I-fool-them-is-this-over-yet-when-will-it-be-over-I-need-this-to-be-over.

“Do you know of anyone who might have a grudge against Meredith?” Detective Garza says.

I pretend to mull this over. “I mean, I want to say no, but it’s a risk with our jobs.”

“Mom influencer,” Detective Clarke says.

“Yes. Well, any kind of influencer, really. It’s different from being a celebrity. With influencers, people sometimes feel like they actually know you. Like complete strangers will think we’re their friend, because we have to post content throughout our days. And most of that content is sharing bits and pieces of our lives with everyone. Boundaries become blurred, fans feel entitled to get closer and closer to you…I don’t know of anyone specifically who might have something against Meredith, but we all have fans who cross the line.”

Again, the two detectives nod. Detective Clarke writes on his notepad.

I lean forward, frowning. “Are you saying that something might have happened to her?” My voice comes out with a touch of horrified realization.

“Well, we don’t know yet, but we’re taking this seriously,” Detective Garza says.

I put a hand over my mouth. “All this time, I just assumed she’d gone to a retreat or—or a journey to find herself or something. Oh my god.”

“Could still be a possibility. Don’t get too worked up over it,” Detective Clarke says, in what he probably thinks is a reassuring way. “But do keep an ear out for anything that might tell you where she is.”

“Of course,” I say quickly.

The detectives stand then, and I do, too, carrying Sabine carefully. As they walk out of the house, I stand there and wave to them with a worried smile. They wave at me from inside their car, and I wonder if I’ve played my part sufficiently. I look down at Sabine. She looks up at me but doesn’t stop sucking on the bottle. They wouldn’t suspect me. Not a mother feeding her baby. I will be okay.

Except the problem is, I saw the cops coming, but I didn’t see America’s obsession crashing down on me. Because Clara didn’t just go to the police. She went online.

That very same day, as I log on to TikTok to do my rounds and leave nice comments on my friends’ posts, the first thing I see is Kelly, one of my mom friends, talking about how worried she is about Meredith. I feel as though my scalp has shrunk and become too small for my skull.

“—I mean, it’s one of us, guys,” Kelly is saying to the camera, her Botoxed face showing something which I think is meant to be horror. “Meredith is such a huge part of our community, and what about Luca? This is crazy! She wouldn’t have left him behind like that. You’ve all seen her videos. Luca was her whole world.”

“Ugh,” I say out loud. Luca was very definitely not Meredith’s whole world.

“If she’s missing, someone has taken her,” Kelly says, her eyes filling with tears. Her nostrils flare. “Get this news out there. We all need to look for her.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. I scroll up. The next video is of a momfluencer friend doing yoga. I tap on the heart to Like it and type out “Slayyy!” I scroll up. A video of Meredith with the caption, “WHERE’S MEREDITH???” I shake my head and scroll up again. More Meredith. Where the hell is this coming from? Clara isn’t even on TikTok. How did she get the news out so fast?

I type out Meredith’s handle and tap on it. And my heart stops, because the latest post on Meredith’s account is of Clara. She must’ve figured out how to log on to Meredith’s TikTok somehow. Sisters. Who knows what other secrets of Meredith’s Clara knows? I tap on the video.

Clara is looking straight into the camera, the angle unflattering. Luca is in her arms, sucking on a rubber duckie. “I’m Clara, Meredith’s sister. I’m here to tell you that Meredith has been missing for over a month now.” Her voice breaks and she pauses, looking up at the ceiling and blinking rapidly. The amateurish quality of the footage actually works for her, lending the video a kind of disarming sincerity. No one is going to scroll up, not before the video ends. “Thirty-six days ago, Meredith dropped her son Luca off at my house for the night. That was the last time I ever saw her. She was supposed to pick him up the next morning, but that night, she sent me a strange message, saying she needed a break. I need you all to know that this isn’t like Mer at all. She’s irritating as hell and irresponsible sometimes, but she loves Luca so much. She would never abandon him.” Tears roll down her face, and she wipes them off angrily. She leans closer to the camera, her voice hardening. “Someone out there has taken my sister. Please, if anyone has any information, call this number.” A number appears on the screen. “I’ve reported her missing to the police and they are taking it very seriously, but we need all the help we can get. I don’t know much about social media, but I know Mer was doing it a lot. You guys are her world. She would want all of you to help. Please, help us find her. Luca doesn’t deserve to grow up without his mommy.” The final word hitches up into a shrill sob, and Clara shakes her head and whispers, “Please.” The video ends.

Oh my god. Dread is an anvil crushing me, pulverizing my spine, squeezing every drop of air out of my lungs. How did this happen? Cops, I can handle. I handled them. I know I did. They walked out of my house convinced I had nothing to do with Meredith’s disappearance. But the Internet? Nobody has a handle on the Internet. There is no way of knowing which direction TikTok will swing. In the age of conspiracy theories and fake news, no one is considered innocent. The wilder the story, the better. A momfluencer killing her best friend and rival? That’s not even the wildest story out there, not by a long shot. TikTok will easily believe it. If they catch even a whiff of suspicion of me, I am done.