“Where was she?”
“She had to disappear. She’s still there. If you want I can take you to her.”
Marla’s words send a shiver down my spine; it’s impossible to tell if she’s offering to take me to meet a living person or to visit a grave. I think of the gun in the bag beside me and the safety it could afford me.
“Where is she?” I ask carefully.
“Not far. A fifteen-minute drive.” I try to gauge her intentions but she seems to have no vested interest in me coming one way or another. “I told Emily about you. About how you got involved. How you’ve tried to help. She knows you’ve been looking for her. I’m sorry you’re involved in all this, we both are. But she just can’t risk coming back yet, talking to the police yet. We both can’t risk it. It’s not safe. I’m sorry I can’t be clearer about everything but it’s her plan. It’s hers to explain. I can take you if you want me to? But it’s up to you.”
I study Marla’s face, tired, battered, and bruised. What she’s done for Emily is extreme. She’s been hiding her and I assume muddying the trail she’s left behind, risking her own safety and almost certainly her own career. I wonder if I would do half as much for a friend in need. Or perhaps I’m misreading the situation; I’m painfully aware Marla can be very convincing when she needs to be. What if she’s the one responsible for Emily’s disappearance in the first place, what if all of this is a lie? But I’ve met Ben Cohan, and I’ve seen what’s lurking under his professional veneer. And I can see Marla’s face right in front of me, bright with bruises, full of barely concealed fear for her friend. Perhaps I’ll live to regret it but something tells me I need to trust her. We can all talk about the sisterhood until we’re blue in the face but here’s my moment to actually do something. If Marla can take me to Emily—if I can see her with my own eyes—then I’ll be certain. I’ll know I’ve done my bit. And if I need to, as soon as I’m ready to leave LA I’ll bring the whole house of cards tumbling down around me.
“I’ll come,” I tell Marla, my tone firm, “but I’m going to follow you in my own car.”
She takes a second to mull over the idea.
“Of course, if you’d feel safer. I totally understand.” She reaches into her purse, pulls out a $20 bill, and wedges it under her coffee mug to pay. “Shall we?” she asks, moving to rise.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait,” I say, placing my hands on the table between us. “I just need to get some things straight first. Why did you drag me into this? Last week you pulled me into this whole situation, didn’t you—？”
Marla places a hand on top of mine, and I stop abruptly.
“I didn’t drag you into this at all. You were already part of it. You just didn’t know you were.” She shakes her head, bemused by my lack of insight into everything she’s been explaining.
She pats my arm. “The emails, the apartment, us meeting that day. You really haven’t worked any of it out yet, have you? What you are to Emily, what you are to me?”
I stare at her dumbfounded as the meaning of her words sinks in.
I am part of a plan I do not understand. And I have been since the day we met.
I open my mouth to speak but she cuts me off.
“But it’s her plan, I’ll let her explain—”
“No,” I interrupt, “you explain it to me. Now. Or I’m not going anywhere.”
Marla nods. “Fine. Then I guess we’re done here,” she says simply.
And with that she rises and turns to leave.
33
Up into the Darkness
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 16