The Disappearing Act(58)

Marla knows exactly what is going on. She’s a real friend of Emily’s and she’s telling me to stop. If anyone should be reporting anything to the police it should be her, not me. She knows what happened on New Year’s Eve, she knows how at risk Emily was and the dangerous game she was playing with the men who took advantage of her. I should definitely take Marla’s advice. I do not want anyone else coming into this apartment. I do not want to disappear.

I take a moment, screw my courage to the sticking place, and type.


Today, 7:32am


Understood.



Two minutes later I’m explaining my decision to Cortez.





25


    Not Safe


SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 14

Cortez is happy for me to drop the missing person report, and why wouldn’t she be. I tell her I’ve been in contact with a good friend of Emily’s who informed me that she was aware of Emily’s situation and that I wasn’t helping. I made it clear to Cortez that I wouldn’t be coming in to report anything, because, it turns out, it’s none of my business.

After the call I immediately head down to reception.

The day receptionist is a man with short blond hair and a tightly pursed expression. I’ve never seen him before but then I’m rarely in the building at this time of day. It never occurred to me that Lucy wouldn’t be available to me twenty-four hours a day but I realize now she must only work the night shifts. She will have left already.

The receptionist looks up warily as I approach. “Hi there, can I help you?”

I hesitate for a second, unsure how exactly to go about getting what I need from him. Whoever came to my apartment last night will have been caught on CCTV and I want to see who it is. I might not be able to help Emily with her problem but I can sure as hell help myself and if I can find out who is threatening me or at least what they look like, then I’ll be a lot safer. Though the thought of seeing them on film entering my apartment makes what happened last night suddenly all too real. I obviously can’t tell the receptionist what happened; he looks pretty alarmist and I can’t risk him just calling the police on my behalf, at least not until I know what I’m dealing with. I need to play it extremely safe.

“This is a strange question,” I begin, leaning casually on the counter, “but do you know if anyone came in the building really late last night? I think someone was pounding on my door or something in the middle of the night.”

The receptionist’s puckered expression shoots up into an arch mask of incredulity. Another actor no doubt. “That certainly doesn’t sound like the kind of thing that usually goes on in this building but I really wouldn’t know what happens here at night. I work days,” he replies, gesturing to what I can only assume is the day. “Sooo…” he continues expansively and then stops speaking entirely.

I wait for him to continue but that appears to be the end of his input on the subject.

“Is there any way to find out who it might have been?” I try.

He shrugs. “Lucy might know.”

“Right. Okay…and what time will she be back?”

“What day is it…?” he mutters and stoops to check a green binder just beneath the counter. “Sunday, Sunday, Sunday…Lucy is in from six.” He looks back up at me triumphantly.

I wait for more but again there’s nothing.

“Okay, so could you perhaps take a quick look now at the CCTV from my hallway last night and see who it was? It would have been between two a.m. and four a.m.”

His expression hardens. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am. I’m not authorized to look through security footage. You would need to contact the management company about that directly.”

“Oh, okay. Could you maybe ask Lucy, when she gets in, if she remembers someone coming in at around that time then? It was the thirty-first floor. And it’s Mia Eliot, apartment three one zero eight.”

He looks at me for moment before sighing loudly and grabbing a pen and a stack of sticky notes. “Mia El-i-ot…apartment number?”

“Three one zero eight.”

“Three one zero eight. Right…unwanted visitor two a.m. to four a.m. Question mark.”

I think this is as good as I’m going to get from him. “Right. That’s great, thank you for your help. And Lucy’s definitely not in until six p.m.?”

“No, she is not.”

I guess I’ll have to wait until six then.



* * *



—

Back in the apartment I call Cynthia in London, who’s surprised to receive a call so late on a Sunday night. Without giving reasons I ask her to find me new accommodations as soon as possible. I’m guessing it’ll be for tomorrow night now at this short notice, unless I’m willing to check into a regular hotel—though I’m not sure how much safer that would be than here. At least here there aren’t all those people coming and going through the night. And when I speak to Lucy, I’ll make sure she changes my door code and that’s she’s on high alert if I need to stay tonight.

Cynthia agrees to find new accommodations for me without hesitation, asking only if everything is all right. I tell her I’m fine but request that she find me somewhere with very good security, I’m pretty sure she fills in her own blanks. It’s unlikely she’s missed the news about George and Naomi Fairn’s new relationship so I’m sure she’s got plenty to speculate on. I reassure her I’m still focused on work and I’ll be going to the screen test tomorrow but I tell her that I’ll need to leave LA the day after the test. Reassured and relieved that I haven’t flown off the rails, she agrees to arrange a flight home for me for Tuesday.