The Disappearing Act(45)

She’s down on one knee again rooting for her things under the sofa. She pauses to look up. “Yeah, I’d actually prefer if you didn’t contact me. I mean if that’s okay? I’ll just follow up through my agent, I think.”

She pulls out a faded denim jacket and a pair of worn trainers from underneath the sofa and shakes them out. Her own clothes.

She’s genuinely just going to go.

“But how will I find out who was paying you? Or…anything?”

“My agent said it was just an account number. No name on the transfer.” Joanne sits on the edge of the couch and tugs on her trainers. “I mean, if you’re really worried about this girl you could report it or something? Listen, I’m just going to leave the apartment keys here on the table and get going.” She hesitates, taking in my expression. “I mean, it’s up to you if you want to stay and get involved but I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.”

Her words throw me. Do I want to stay and get involved? Do I have a choice or am I already tangled up in this?

I realize Joanne is waiting for me to say something.

“Yeah, that’s fine, I’ll stay a minute and lock the door when I leave.”

She rises, now shrugging on her denim jacket. “Great. Okay then. Good luck with…everything.”

“Can I at least get your phone number, in case? Your agent’s?” I ask, even though I’m certain a quick Google search will supply me with the latter.

“No offense, but no way am I giving you my number,” she says over a shoulder as she breezes out the door, disappearing into the fading evening light.

The door clunks shut behind her and silence falls over me and Emily’s empty apartment.





19


    All That Is Left Behind


SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13

I could just leave like Joanne.

I could call Souki; she’s not leaving LA until tomorrow. I could ask her what the hell I’m supposed to do but I can’t because I promised her I’d drop the whole thing. I already know exactly what her answer would be anyway. Leave.

I could call Cortez. But what would I say: I didn’t trust her colleagues so I went to Emily’s house and there was an actress pretending to be her living in it?

Worst-case scenario, she’d think I was mad, best-case scenario I’d have to hand over Emily’s apartment keys, give them Joanne’s name, and forget about it. My involvement in the investigation would be over. And I might never know where Emily went.

I let my eyes linger on her apartment, on her belongings, on the potential trail of evidence Emily might have left behind. I’m no detective; I’m quite sure messing with evidence isn’t a great idea.

I dig out my phone and scroll back through my call list to Cortez’s number. What’s the worst that can happen if I report this? I take a deep breath and press dial.

When the call connects I can hear the clamor of station life through the receiver before a voice answers and then after a few transfers I’m finally speaking to Cortez.

“Hi there. It’s Mia Eliot, we spoke this morning?”

The muffled hubbub on her end of the line fills the quiet apartment around me as she tries to place my name.

“Right,” she answers. “Yeah, missing persons report. How can I help?” She sounds busy, clearly irritated that my call has come through on her direct line.

I buckle up for a bumpy phone call and start to explain this afternoon’s events from the beginning.



* * *



—

“Okay. I can definitely understand why that might have raised alarm bells,” she concludes after I finish. “Sounds like you’ve really been going above and beyond for this Emily person,” she adds, and I’m pretty sure from her tone that it’s not a compliment. “And from what you’ve told me, it’s definitely something we’d look into,” she continues. “Why don’t you pop into the station tomorrow morning and we’ll fill out a missing persons report and look at the whole thing.”

“Of course,” I reply. “But what should I do in the meantime?”

“In the meantime?” she asks, baffled by the question.

“Well, yeah, I’m still in her house.”

“Then I’d suggest you leave her house. And if you still have a set of her keys, then bring them along tomorrow. That’d be helpful. Although, having said that, we’d need to get Emily’s, or Emily’s landlord’s, permission to enter the property anyway so…but yeah, probably best if you head home now and come in to report the incident tomorrow.”

I feel completely immobilized by her words. They can’t seriously expect me to just go home after this. Someone was hired to act out scenes with me. Someone gave Joanne a character description of me. And Emily is gone. “But what if something’s happened to her? Am I safe?”

“I would have thought so. You know, technically, going missing isn’t a crime, and the only reason we’d investigate this is if there’s solid evidence of a crime. What you’re telling me now about someone impersonating Emily might be evidence of something or it could just be that Emily doesn’t want to be found; again, not illegal. So unless you know of an actual crime? Because this could just be a prank she’s pulling, we don’t know, believe me I’ve seen worse. Anyway, come in tomorrow, we’ll go through the procedures and see what we see. Okay?”