“Yes,” Lana said impatiently. “Letter. On paper. In envelope. In the mail. They don’t have phones or internet. They even came to L.A. for a week, to help me search. That’s when we filed the missing person report.” It was a big deal for her parents to get on a plane and come all that way. They hadn’t proved all that useful, but she understood the urge to feel like you were doingsomethingthat wasn’t just sitting around waiting. And it had made her feel less alone—until they left and she felt more alone than ever. “If Vivien had turned up, they would have contacted me right away. They are capable of borrowing a phone, in extreme circumstances.”
“No need for sarcasm.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just…” Her voice cracked. “Iknowsomething’s wrong. What about her phone? We’ve had location sharing since she…” Lana trailed off. No need to mention it was a condition Lana had imposed on Vivien after picking her upfrom a bender that had ended in Palm Springs. “It last pinged in the hills behind the set, and nothing since. And it was there for a couple of days before the signal was lost, so she wasn’t just passing through. That trail is closed to the public because of the filming, so I can’t get up there to check.”
“Those location-sharing things aren’t always accurate.”
“With GPS, they can be accurate to sixteen feet, under open sky.” (623.893: Navigation technology.) “Can you find out her movements up until that time? The location tracking doesn’t give me the history.” If only Lana had been watching the map, like when Vivien hitchhiked to Coachella.
“Again, that’s quite a process.”
“If you could at least have a look?—”
“Honestly, if someone’s buried a body up there—and I’m not saying that’s happened—that’s gonna take some finding. We don’t have the resources to commit to a wild goose chase without a more solid indication.” He mashed his lips together and worked them around thoughtfully, before turning back to the screen. “Let me screenshot that photo with Griffin Hart. I’ll crop him out. The ones in our files don’t have her smiling.”
“Sheisone of those people who looks totally different when she smiles.”
His gaze flicked to Lana’s, warily. The phone skipped a beat, then started again.
“Oh,” Lana said, comprehending. (363.256: Forensic science.) “You want to be able to identify her by her teeth if she’s…” Sometimes Lana wished she hadn’t read so many books.
“Look, I’ll ask around town, okay? And I can kick up the classification from ‘unknown circumstances’ to ‘suspicious circumstances’ if we add a suggestion that she’s a danger to herself because of her emotional state.”
“Will that mean someone will be out looking for her?”
“No, but it can’t hurt.” He decisively tapped some keys and pushed up from his chair. “How’s that? Feel free to call if you think of anything else,” he added as the phone continued to ring.
Lana had walked out knowing she couldn’t leave it there. She was on unpaid leave, which she couldn’t afford to take, with the rent due on her Mid-City studio, and still she had no answers. And unlike with most questions in life, she wouldn’t find them on the shelves of a library. As she left the station, pulling out her car key, she heard a voice behind her.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a great look for background acting?”
She turned. It was the casting assistant who’d approached her earlier. “In fact, Ihaveheard that before.”
“You’re so very?—”
“Average, I know. Forgettable, even. You’ve convinced me. Where do I sign?”
So here she was, a week later, on the set of the hottest TV show in America, dying for the nineteenth time since eight a.m.
To Officer Sheng’s credit, he had visited the set on Tuesday, Lana’s second day as a professional nobody. She’d watched from a distance as he inspected the set and… No.Inspectedwas too strong a word. He’dtouredthe citadel, the tunnels, the props and wardrobe trailers. He’d blushed when introduced to Estelle Duman, who feigned interest and even accepted a business card. Hedidflash around Vivien’s photo, but no one offered anything beyond a shrug.
So, with Lana’s extra work coming to a gruesome end, she had devised a more audacious plan. Which she would launch once they were done killing her.
Chapter 2
Lana
In record time, Lana returned her costume, tied up her hair, wiped off her makeup, and grabbed her backpack. She found an extras wrangler and asked him to scan her out.
“Don’t forget we have the moment of silence for Toby Fong up in the citadel,” he said, beeping her QR code. “Buses won’t be leaving for Fitch until after that.”
“Just wanted to beat the rush.” Her plan hinged on being the first to board after the tribute.
“Big plans for the long weekend, huh?”
“Huge.” First rule of lying—don’t give details. (Lying, 177.3.)
Lana did have a more elaborate lie planned in case anyone pressed, but no one had. All day, the usual chit-chat and gossip had given way to intense discussions of the big Hollywood news: the death overnight of a twenty-year-old actor who was apparently the next big thing, and was slated to play Apollo in future episodes ofGods and Mortals. Everyone seemed to know someone who knew someone who knew for sure it was an accidental overdose, or a suicide, or foul play. The makeup team had complained that they didn’t have enough eye drops and gel packs for all the red eyes, though fortunately it was cucumbersalad day at craft services. (It had taken Lana a whole, hungry day on set to figure out that “craft services” was catering.)
