“Someone from the set?”
“I don’t think so. Some other connection. I have a buddy who might be able to help us trace the number.”
“So those guys at the set desperately want to talk to her, and this guy desperately doesn’t—but both believe she’s out there somewhere.”
Lana tried the other missed calls without IDs. They went straight to “number not in service” or “number not available.”
“Probably burners, since abandoned,” Griffin said.
“So, criminals?”
“Not necessarily. Let me call my guy. Okay if I tell him about Vivien?”
“Sure.”
Darnell picked up on the second ring.
“Hey buddy!” Griffin said. “You’re up?”
“Time is a construct, my friend. Just came in from a surf. What’s happening?”
“I’m sitting here with a friend, and she’s got a situation. There’s a couple of things we could use your help with.”
Darnell was silent a few seconds, no doubt contemplating the news that Griffin was with a woman this early on a Saturday. “All ears.”
“I’m putting you on speakerphone.” Darnell would take that as code fordon’t say anything too personal. Griffin gave a brief rundown—Vivien’s disappearance, the phone, the chase on the set, the morning’s developments.
“So, you want to ID this guy she’s been talking to,” Darnell said. “Forward me the number, and that pocket dial message. I’ll see what I can make of it.”
“Thanks. We’re going to check out Vivien’s last-known address.”
He hung up and sent Darnell the details, including the burner numbers, just in case.
“He’s a private investigator?” Lana said.
“Something like that. He can be trusted.”
It took them a while to get through the Saturday morning traffic to Vivien’s address, which looked even worse in reality—less paint, longer grass, crappier cars.
“No sign of her car,” Lana noted while they waited on the doorstep. A man walked past, pushing a stroller. He looked up, and Griffin turned away.
The door opened. A red-eyed twenty-something stood on the threshold, scratching greasy blond hair—a stoner, still going onlast night’s bender, or maybe starting over, judging by the weed smell wafting around him.
“Chase?” Lana said.
“That’s right,” the guy replied warily.
“I’m Vivien’s sister. We’re looking for her.”
“You and me both. She skipped out a month ago. You gonna pay me what she owes?”
“How much does she owe?”
“Three grand.”
Griffin crossed his arms. “He’s lying.”
Chase took in Griffin, his head shifting back and forth like he was trying to get it to a distance where his eyes would focus. “Two-and-a-half grand, then. Lucky I made her pay the first month in advance.”
