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.
I head to the kitchen, chug back a tall glass of tap water in an attempt to rid myself of a suddenly intensely dry mouth, then stand there frozen thinking over what was just said, the police officer’s words fresh in my head.
I need to talk to someone about what just happened. I check the time on my phone. It’s after seven, Nick should be finished at work. He might even be home by now. I realize I still know nothing about Nick, what he does, where he lives, even if he’s single. Though if he’s not then I’d have serious concerns. And he doesn’t wear a wedding ring. I bring up his number and pause. Who else am I going to tell? I’m absolutely certain Souki would not like this.