The Disappearing Act(81)

“You tried to stop me from testing.”

She gives me an apologetic look, her tone eerily lighthearted as she jokes, “Yeah. But it didn’t work, did it?”

“No, it didn’t.”

“And here we are.”

My mind races to catch up. “And Nick? He helped you?” I feel my head lightening, vertigo swimming around me.

Marla shrugs. “You keep bringing him up but I have no idea who he is. You seemed into the idea, though.”

Oh God. She lied. She dragged me up here with garden-variety lies. I feel my anger flare. I think of how quick I was to assume that all this was somehow to do with Nick, and then I feel a tight clench of guilt too. Why would Nick be involved with a man he clearly told me he found repugnant? My grip tightens around the gun. His gun. The only thing I have up here to protect myself. And now that I think about it, Marla told me Ben was responsible for her bruised face.

“And your face? They didn’t really do that either, did they?” I ask, trying to sift truth from lies.

“The video call from Moon Finch came after I’d returned your phone to your bag in the waiting room. I was about to head to your apartment. I knew they were still pitching me to Kathryn, and I knew it was between you and me. They told me they were going to back down. Kathryn wasn’t taking recommendations. They told me they’d get me something else. I told Ben that was unacceptable. I told him to try harder. I did this to my face and sent him a picture.” She clocks my expression and smiles. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I took Advil.”

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Leverage. Proof of what he did to me.” She shrugs. “He just needed another nudge in the right direction. And photos of me beaten up along with everything else I have on them paint a pretty damning picture, don’t you think?”

Marla’s reason for hiring Joanne shifts into focus. “You couldn’t collect Emily’s things from me looking like that,” I suggest.

“Not exactly. I had already been Michelle at your apartment. I would have been recognized. But you’re right, I did need Joanne to take Emily’s place for a few days. In case questions were raised too soon. I didn’t want the deal to screw up. And I needed her to keep you busy and to return the car on CCTV.”

“Why did you bring me up here, Marla?”

“Good question. When you went to feed the meter I took your phone—you really need to be careful who’s watching you type in your code, you know. Everything’s on phones these days. I took it to the bathroom, I found your address, I took your key, I emailed your building, I read your recent searches. Where you were going, what you were planning. Search histories tend to give you a good feel for where someone’s head is. Recent breakup, running away, trying to escape what happened but they’re always there at the touch of a button, right? The happy couple. I’ve seen her, I know how you must feel. Losing a job, losing a boyfriend.”

“I haven’t lost a job,” I counter, my words drifting away on the breeze.

“And you’ve got a bit of an obsession with that story about the actress who jumped off the sign, haven’t you?” she continues regardless.

Instinctively my hands grip tighter onto the steel of the sign as a massive surge of adrenaline sweeps through me. The girl who fell from the sign. The realization hits me physically, momentarily knocking my balance and sending a fresh wave of vertigo through me. That’s why she’s brought me here, to the sign, because of the girl who jumped.

“You’re scared now, aren’t you? I’d never heard of her, her story. But I looked her up. It’s a good plot. Lots of pathos and bathos. That telegram offering her the new part the next day. Sad.” She gives a mock grimace. “So here we are.” She gestures out into the darkness. “I tried to ward you off. I gave fair warning. But you wouldn’t stop. Which means I can’t. Too many people have given too much for this part and I’m not going to let you sweep in at the last minute and steal it from under us. You don’t deserve this like she deserved it. Like we both deserve it. I get the chance she missed. I am getting out of this hole. I am getting this part, not you with your nice life and your nice family and your other options. Emily and I were out here too long, we worked too hard to walk away when we’re this close, when we’ve sacrificed so much. I never wanted it to come to this but you haven’t left me any choice.”

I feel the blow contact my face sharply before I see it, the pain intense and shocking. My balance fails me but thankfully, wedged between the struts and sign, it’s impossible for me to fall. Instead my body slumps into the strut as I try to catch my breath and make sense of the situation. My vision fuzzy, I shake open my eyes just in time to see her elbow come down on me again. I dodge instinctively, her arm only grazing my shoulder this time, but I can now feel the hot trickle of blood from my nose and the bright taste of blood in my mouth from that first connecting blow. I can’t feel the side of my face at all. My breath comes in ragged desperate gasps as I watch her raise a boot to kick.

Frantically I fumble for my pocket and tug out the gun wildly, catching it on the fabric and jolting the seam hard, tearing it in order to release it. I swing the barrel out into the air between us unthinkingly. She freezes, her face a mask of surprise.

Thinking only of my life I flick off the safety as calmly as my shaking hand will allow me to, my face a tingling, bleeding mess. With a quick swipe against my shoulder I remove the blood from my mouth before speaking.