I could just leave likeJoanne.
I could call Souki; she’s not leaving LA until tomorrow. I could ask her what the hell I’m supposed to do but I can’t because I promised her I’d drop the whole thing. I already know exactly what her answer would be anyway. Leave.
I could call Cortez. But what would I say: I didn’t trust her colleagues so I went to Emily’s house and there was an actress pretending to be her living in it?
Worst-case scenario, she’d think I was mad, best-case scenario I’d have to hand over Emily’s apartment keys, give them Joanne’s name, and forget about it. My involvement in the investigation would be over. And I might never know where Emily went.
I let my eyes linger on her apartment, on her belongings, on the potential trail of evidence Emily might have left behind. I’m no detective; I’m quite sure messing with evidence isn’t a great idea.
I dig out my phone and scroll back through my call list to Cortez’s number. What’s the worst that can happen if I report this? I take a deep breath and press dial.
When the call connects I can hear the clamor of station life through the receiver before a voice answers and then after a few transfers I’m finally speaking to Cortez.
“Hi there. It’s Mia Eliot, we spoke this morning?”
The muffled hubbub on her end of the line fills the quiet apartment around me as she tries to place my name.
“Right,” she answers. “Yeah, missing persons report. How can I help?” She sounds busy, clearly irritated that my call has come through on her direct line.
I buckle up for a bumpy phone call and start to explain this afternoon’s events from the beginning.
—
“Okay. I can definitely understandwhy that might have raised alarm bells,” she concludes after I finish. “Sounds like you’ve really been going above and beyond for this Emily person,” she adds, and I’m pretty sure from her tone that it’s not a compliment. “And from what you’ve told me, it’s definitely something we’d look into,” she continues. “Why don’t you pop into the station tomorrow morning and we’ll fill out a missing persons report and look at the whole thing.”
“Of course,” I reply. “But what should I do in the meantime?”
“In the meantime?” she asks, baffled by the question.
“Well, yeah, I’m still in her house.”
“Then I’d suggest you leave her house. And if you still have a set of her keys, then bring them along tomorrow. That’d be helpful. Although, having said that, we’d need to get Emily’s, or Emily’s landlord’s, permission to enter the property anyway so…but yeah, probably best if you head home now and come in to report the incident tomorrow.”
I feel completely immobilized by her words. They can’t seriously expect me to just go home after this. Someone was hired toact outscenes with me. Someone gave Joanne a character description ofme.And Emily is gone. “But what if something’s happened to her? Am I safe?”
“I would have thought so. You know, technically, going missing isn’t a crime, and the only reason we’d investigate this is if there’s solid evidence of a crime. What you’re telling me now about someone impersonating Emily might be evidence of something or it could just be that Emily doesn’t want to be found; again, not illegal. So unless you know of an actual crime? Because this could just be a prank she’s pulling, we don’t know, believe me I’ve seen worse. Anyway, come in tomorrow, we’ll go through the procedures and see what we see. Okay?”
Not really. “Yeah, okay.” I sigh.
“Oh, and bring a photograph of her. Whatever you’ve got.”
I have nothing. My eyes scan the room for one.
“Will do. Thanks, Officer Cortez.”
“It’s Maria. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
—
I can’t say I feelany better after I hang up. I suppose in my head they’d send a squad car straight here and dust the apartment for prints and open an in-depth investigation immediately but then things don’t work like that in the real world, do they.
Joanne is going to be more than a little annoyed at me if I give the police her name tomorrow but I don’t think she’ll go as far as to deny she was involved. If she does, I’m not sure where that leaves me. Because if Joanne is removed from the chain of events that led me here, then it might be assumed that I stole Emily’s apartment keys from her car or broke in.
My mind fizzles along that track. If I had access to her apartment I might have been the woman the cops ID’d here the other night. Might I have been the woman impersonating her? I know for a fact I fit Emily’s description; everyone at that audition four days ago did.
But I’m sure Joanne won’t deny it. It’s one thing to want to avoid hassle and quite another to lie to the police. I shift on the sunken-seated sofa. Besides there’ll be an email chain on Joanne’s computer and her agent’s linking her here. And she was caught on CCTV in my building collecting Emily’s things. I wander back into the kitchen to retrieve Joanne’s padded envelope full of evidence.
I weigh the packet in my hands. I should take this and give it to them tomorrow too. And I should leave. Cortez is right. I’ve already wasted too much of my own time on this. It’s not like I don’t have anything to do out here. I think of Joanne slinking out into the evening light, free. I could just go. It’s clear nobody else is as concerned about this as I am.
