The Disappearing Act(71)
Today, 4:03pm
Marla, I spoke to Ben Cohan. I need you to tell me what happened to Emily. I know she disappeared in Jan & I know who you are. You need to tell me what’s going on or I will report this.
I stare at my words for a second, and remind myself that I am safe here. She cannot get me, building security knows not to let anyone up, especially her, and now that my security monitor is repaired and my door code has been reprogrammed, I am safer here than ever before. And it’s only one more night.
My phone pings in the silence, sending a chill straight up my spine.
Today, 4:04pm
Okay.
Whatever Ben told you he told you to protect himself. You’re not safe now he knows, trust me. I can explain everything. It’s not what you think, I promise you Mia. Will you meet me?
I stare at her words, and the pulsing gray dots beneath that tell me she is waiting for my response. My thumb hesitates over the keyboard. And then I type.
Today, 4:36pm
Yes. I will but only in a public place.
Her reply is almost instantaneous.
Today, 4:37pm
Okay. And then, if you want, I can take you to Emily.
31
Preparations
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 15
Marla wants to meet me at eleven-thirty tonight at the 101 Coffee Shop by Emily’s apartment. I’m reticent until she tells me it’s the best she can do, she can’t meet me in the daytime but she won’t tell me why—which only heightens my suspicions. But what can I do? If I want to meet her, if I want my questions answered, I have to go. I comfort myself with the thought that at least I’ve been to the place we’re meeting and I know that it’ll be safe and not too quiet even at that hour.
I think about canceling my new dinner plans with Nick, but then I still need to eat tonight and a bit of company can only be good. I’ll just stew in my own juices here otherwise.
It should only take me half an hour to get to Marla in Hollywood if I leave Nick’s by eleven p.m. I’ll have to make sure I restrict myself to one drink at Nick’s house, so I can drive. Enough to calm my nerves but not enough to dull the senses, which given how well our first date went might not be such a bad idea anyway. The last thing I need to add to the equation tonight is the chance of getting laid.
Miguel calls up to the apartment to let me know that a mechanic from Audi has arrived. I head down to the car park where I find Miguel reading a copy of Movie Maker under the valet counter. He slides it surreptitiously out of sight as I approach and tells me the mechanic is already working on the car, and assures me he’s got it under control. He suggests I go grab a coffee in the café opposite the building and pop back in ten or fifteen. Knowing nothing about cars and thankful for the free pass, I head over the road.
In the café two uniformed police officers catch my eye as they wait for coffee at the counter. I feel myself tensing even though I’ve done nothing wrong. Although, I suppose, I am now involved in a serious crime. I have listened to an audio recording of a rape; I have heard evidence and I know the victim disappeared shortly after the assault and her only friend in California took her place. Is not coming forward if you have knowledge of a crime a crime in itself or is it just morally questionable?
I watch the officers talk as they wait for their orders, weapons on their hips. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing guns strapped to people in such everyday settings as cafés and shops. I try to imagine a local policeman back home in England wandering down a high street with a semi-automatic weapon capable of instantly killing without trial or real repercussions. But all my mind can muster up is some kind of ineffectual Frank Spencer or Rowan Atkinson character, and the idea morphs from chilling to ridiculous.
It’s funny to be scared of guns given my job. Given the number of times I’ve worked with firearms on TV shows. I know how to load one, aim it, dismantle it, and reassemble it. Most actors do. You learn on the job, hours of safety briefings with weapons specialists and armorers for a single scene with a gun. All so that you look like you know what you’re doing. Even if you don’t.
I find myself wishing I had one for this meeting with Marla. The hour, the circumstances, and my uncertainty about her involvement in Emily’s disappearance are making for a perfect storm of fear. A gun, just as a prop, not to use, heavy in my pocket, lifeless and bullet-free. A last resort. I think of Marla’s text and the implication that I’m not safe from Ben. It’s impossible to know at this stage who I’m more at risk from. Could Ben have had my car tampered with? Or are the pair of them in on all of this together? Either way I’d like to know I have a way of protecting myself tonight even if I know it’s all a bluff. I just need something to show that could buy me a second to run away.
Of course, there’s no way a tourist like me would be able to get hold of even an imitation weapon in this country. So hopefully I won’t need one. I’m not going to need any protection in a public place. I’d only need it if I let Marla take me to Emily. But then the sensible thing to do is to just not go with Marla if I feel unsafe.
Back in the car park the Audi mechanic pulls the repaired car around and talks me through the issue. Tampering isn’t mentioned, of course, though it turns out there was a loose ECU relay, the small pluglike electrical unit that controls the functions of the car. It was an easy fix once he worked it out, he tells me. He just had to reconnect the loose connection.