“Wait, how did she get your phone number?” he asks, brows knitting. “Did she finally go back to the casting studio and pick up your note?”
I sigh internally. Nick doesn’t know I stole Emily’s rental document and called her. And now that I think about it, I still have her rental document. I flip open the armrest beside me and it stares back at me. God, I’m a crazy person.
“What is it?” Nick asks, reading my expression from the screen.
“Right, don’t judge me but I went back to her car yesterday and found her contact information in the glove box. I rang her.”
“Great idea. And she collected her stuff?”
“Well, kind of.” I pause, unsure whether to fully lie in order to drop the whole subject or tell the truth and risk prolonging its airtime. I know I promised Souki I would drop it but surely Nick, an LA resident, would be a great litmus test in terms of whether I’ve blown this whole thing out of proportion. I tread carefully. “Right, this might sound mad, but it wasn’t Emily who collected the stuff.”
His forehead creases. “Oh, she sent someone else to collect the stuff for her?”
“No, no.” I’m not explaining this well at all. “A woman turned up saying she was Emily but it wasn’t her.” Nick looks even more confused. I try again. “Someone who looked very similar to Emily showed up pretending to be Emily. She said she was Emily but she wasn’t.”
Nick raises both eyebrows. “Whoa. What! Okay. I wasn’t expecting that. Someone was pretending to be the girl you think disappeared!” he says, incredulous. “So what did you do? You didn’t give this woman Emily’s stuff, did you?” I go quiet. “Oh shit. You did.” He gives me an appraising look. “You didn’t even say anything to her, did you?” He bursts out laughing. “You just pretended it wasn’t happening, didn’t you? God you’re so British! Okay, so you just gave this complete stranger Emily’s things rather than cause any embarrassment?” He’s joking but that is pretty much exactly what happened.
I go to speak but stall. It’s funny how everyone is always an expert on what you should have done after the fact. I fumble for an answer. “Yeah, I did. Well, actually, I was flustered so I accidentally gave her the wrong car keys first and that’s when I knew it definitely wasn’t her because she had no idea the keys I gave her weren’t hers. It was such a weird situation that up until then I wasn’t sure, I thought I might’ve just misremembered her face. But if you’re using your car for everything, every day, rental or not, you recognize your car keys. But yeah, as I say, I got flustered and gave her Emily’s stuff.”
He shakes his head in amused disbelief. “You gave her someone else’s wallet! Even though you knew it wasn’t her—?”
“Hey!” I protest. “Give me a break. I only met Emily for ten minutes, days ago. I’m not bloody Rain Man, I don’t remember every single face I’ve ever seen. I wasn’t certain it wasn’t her until I was certain. And even then, she was probably just a weird friend of Emily’s or, I don’t know. She had the same accent as Emily, she looked pretty much the same. It’s not as if I handed over Emily’s stuff to three kids stacked in a trench coat! She looked really similar. And then I guess I just thought she must know her.”
“Fair enough.” He grins. “But why would she pretend to be Emily? Wouldn’t Emily have just mentioned that her friend was coming around to get her stuff?”
The conversation is not going the way I had hoped. Any chance of us dropping the Emily mystery seems to be fast disappearing. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s just flaky?”
Nick snorts a laugh. “That’s certainly one way of putting it!” he quips then takes in my stony expression. “Aren’t you even a little concerned?”
I feel my resolve wobbling because of course I am. Or at least I had been, because why would Emily’s friend pretend to remember me and then tell me that bizarre ex-boyfriend story? I try to stack up a reasonable explanation in my mind. But as far as I can see there is no reasonable explanation for any of this. Unless, of course, Souki is right and Emily’s friend was just a run-of-the-mill LA weirdo. Then a thought begins to form. “There was something else,” I add. “I kind of caught her out.” The corners of Nick’s mouth edge toward a smile as I continue. “She was pretending to be Emily so I tested her. I pretended we’d made a plan to meet up for coffee. We hadn’t actually made a plan but she said she remembered and she still wanted to meet up. She had no idea I was bluffing, she remembered us making that plan.”
He studies my face a moment before speaking. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?”
I guess I haven’t dropped it. And now he thinks I’m fully mad. I feel my face flush. “No, I just…” I stutter to a halt because I am worried all the valid points Souki made have now somehow melted away and I feel like I’m right back where I started. I’m definitely messed up because of George, and perhaps I am obsessing about this to distract myself, but if the woman who took Emily’s keys last night wasn’t Emily then who was she, and why was she pretending to be Emily? She could have been anyone and I gave her Emily’s things.
“Maybe you should speak to the police?” Nick says, jogging me back to the here and now.
The idea of involving the police makes my stomach flip, instantly throwing the harsh light of reality onto everything; either Emily is fine and I’m making a fuss about nothing or she is missing and a stranger came to my apartment to collect her things. If I have even a vague suspicion that something is wrong here, shouldn’t I mention something to someone? Nick’s right but I promised Souki, didn’t I?
“Urgh, I don’t know if I should get dragged into all this. I’m just supposed to be here to get a job!”
“That’s the spirit, champ.” Nick laughs, sympathetically. “Listen, it’s up to you, only you know what you saw. As far as I’m concerned…I think it’s pretty weird that a woman goes missing for two days without a wallet or car and only surfaces after you manage to track her down. But like I say, it’s up to you.”
I hadn’t thought of that but he’s right. She only got in touch after I called her, after I mentioned passing Emily’s things on to my agent. It could be that threatening to attract attention was the only reason someone replied to me at all. Suddenly the whole situation seems a little more concerning than it did before.
It can’t hurt to speak to someone, can it? All I’d need to do is register a concern.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
Nick looks at me seriously for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Do. And let me know what happens.”
15
Missing Person
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 12
The LAPD website offers hotline numbers for almost every conceivable criminal activity. Back at the apartment I scan through the list to find a number that fits but I’m not exactly sure what it is that I’m supposed to be reporting.
I can’t report an abandoned vehicle anymore because there isn’t one. And the stranger last night collecting Emily’s things definitely wasn’t a robbery. I click on the non-emergency hotline and take a slug of hot coffee.
I’ve seen enough BBC dramas to feel like I might know how this goes. If I’m reporting a missing person I know they’ll need: her surname, her last known location, her vehicle registration number, and her home address. So I keep her car rental document close at hand in case I need it. I take a deep breath and carefully dial. As the phone rings I reassure myself that, if it comes to it, the police can check who exactly came to my apartment last night from the building’s CCTV footage.
* * *
—
After hanging up, I pace the living room. I wasn’t expecting the call to go that way at all. I try to slow my heart rate but it’s a losing battle, there’s too much caffeine and adrenaline coursing through my system. Trying to relax is not going to cut it.