Marla Butler’s credits look plausible too, though in a different way. Most of her credits come from the early 2000s and the character names, such as Young Iris, Young Cassandra, and Cute Girl, indicate she was a child actor then. She clocked up an impressive twenty-six credits before a hiatus in 2012. Then a fresh crop of short film and cameo roles since 2019 brings us up to date with a small role as a hotel receptionist in a recent Bond film. This Marla is slowly starting to get somewhere.
I scour the Internet for photographs of both Kaplan and Butler. I can find a few production stills from Butler’s younger roles but she’s a kid and it’s impossible to tell if it’s actually her. The little girl in these films runs from about five years old to ten.
I find a still of Kaplan from her Vampire movie, her hair highlighted, her features similar to those of other Marlas, but she’s only crouched in profile on the edges of the frame, not the focus of the photograph. It could be my Marla, though.
Either of these women could be.
A thought occurs to me. It might be worth searching Vimeo again, this time for one of the Marlas instead of for Emily.
I tap in Marla Butler’s most recent short film credit, but nothing comes up. I try another title. Again nothing.
Exasperated, I try simply typing in her name. A result appears. It’s a scene from a 2011 teen movie called She’s Got Class.
The names of two actresses in the scene are written in the video’s description box. Amy Rogers plays the lead and Marla Butler is her co-star. This could be her.
I click play. Two sixteen-year-old girls huddled on school bleachers, they’re cold, sleeves pulled down over their hands, cheeks rosy and noses sniffle-y. They discuss a group of characters we don’t know. Marla is brunette, Amy redhead. It’s hard to tell yet. The characters seem close but something has come between them. From their conversation I gather their issue is a boy. Amy is a straight-A student while Marla’s character looks cooler, more complicated. Something Amy says causes Marla to sigh and look off into the distance. I watch as she shuffles out a soft pack of cigarettes from her hoodie and reaches for her lighter. And then she does something that takes my breath away.
Cigarette held loosely between two plump lips, she cups the end from the wind, then flicks her lighter open and on in one smooth roll of the wrist. I sit bolt upright as she flicks it closed. She did the exact same thing on that bench in the sunlight, five days ago, the same reflexive, fluid motion. A movement she must have made a million times throughout her life. It’s her. The teenage girl I’m watching, Marla Butler, is the woman I met at that audition.
I’m up and pacing the apartment living room. What am I supposed to do with this information? I know what I’d like to do, I’d like to fly home and never see any of these people ever again, but I can’t leave LA until after Wednesday. And would I ever forget the ghost of Emily’s voice in that audio recording, asking her attacker to stop? Fighting for her life? Can I forget that? Because try as I might to imagine Emily is still alive, I can’t.
But I also can’t imagine the girl I met a few days ago could be a killer. Even in the footage Lucy showed me, she never looked threatening. But then as Lucy said, she’s clearly very convincing when she needs to be.
Perhaps whatever happened when Emily and Marla last met ended in an accident and Marla didn’t know what else to do but fill the gap Emily left behind?
But then where does that leave me, if that’s true? How far could Marla go to protect her secret? She’s already broken into my apartment, tampered with my car.
My phone rings—it’s Cynthia telling me she’s found me new accommodations starting tomorrow morning until Wednesday. Which means only one more night in this building. One more night in an apartment that Marla has repeatedly broken into. I shudder at the thought, but I know she’s not stupid enough to come back to the building now that I’m onto her.
Of course, I don’t have to stay here tonight. Nick texted me earlier to invite me over for dinner. I didn’t think I’d be hanging around long enough to do that, but it looks like I’m stuck here for a bit longer. I text him back accepting the invite. I could always ask him if I could stay over later if I felt unsafe. I’m sure he has spare rooms or a couch, it’s not like I have to sleep in bed with him in order to stay over. Of course, I realize at some point I am going to have to let him know I’m returning home.
I stare out at LA from my gigantic apartment windows, my eyes finding the tall tombstone letters emblazoned across the Hollywood Hills in the distance. Almost a century ago an actress who missed out on the role of a lifetime went to meet her friends and was found three days later dead, bloated, and unrecognizable in a ravine. Emily Bryant’s face flashes through my mind. Nobody reported the actress who jumped missing either. An unknown female hiker found her. No one had even raised an alarm until then.
Before I can chicken out, I type a text and press send.
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.