Lee parked, exited on street level, and walked toward the police station, its reflective windows glinting in the bright sunlight. It was a marvel to walk down a city street unrecognized, something Lee had not been able to do anywhere in Los Angeles since the debut ofOne of You to Love Me. Every time Lee set foot in public, she was photographed…if not by professionals, then by the coffee barista, grocery employee, or random pedestrian she happened to interact with. It was weird being constantlydocumented like a rare bird. Everyone asked her for selfies, and she tried to oblige.
Lee had laughed in recognition when she read an interview with Bill Murray, during which he said, “Now what I do for a living is, I take cellphone photographs. I’m not an actor. I am a donkey that is photographed by people who don’t know what to do with their cellphone camera.”
Lee reached the police station, an imposing, brutalist structure. It was bright inside, with marble floors and beige walls adorned with framed photos of policemen. (Lee paused: nope, no women.) At the front desk, a young man sat in front of a digital display that cycled through public announcements, crime statistics, and news updates. The building was air-conditioned and smelled of cleaning products. “My sister is missing,” Lee told the young man, and he nodded and said something in Greek. When Lee shook her head, he led her down a hallway and into a small room with two chairs and a metal table.
An older man entered the room, nodding to the first, and closing the door behind him. “Good morning, I am Astynómos—sorry,Investigator—Markos Papadoulos,” he said. “I work with Missing Persons Division. You can call me Markos.”
“Lee Perkins,” said Lee.
Markos wore cotton pants and a pale blue shirt that was a bit wrinkled. His belt was brown and didn’t match his black leather shoes. He used pomade in his thick hair, and his skin looked as if it would tan easily if he went in the sun, but he hadn’t gone in the sun, so his complexion was ashy. He was in his late forties, maybe—around Lee’s age. His nose was slightly aquiline, with a prominent bridge and downward slope that reminded Lee of the marble statues she’d seen during her trip to Rome. A bright memory flashed in Lee’s mind: whirling around Rome on a golf cart tourwith her family. How painfully cheesy—and incredibly fun—that had been!
“I called in a missing persons report yesterday,” said Lee, forcing her mind back to the present. “For my sister, Regan Willingham. She’s been living here…in Athens.” Lee (who always watched and evaluated herself, an actor’s burden) heard her own incredulity as she said “Athens.” She quickly added, “I didn’t mean to make that sound as if it was a bad idea for her to move to Athens, I’m sorry.”
“No problem,” said Markos. “Please proceed.”
His English seemed good; that was a plus. “She left town last week and was supposed to return yesterday. Her phone’s location app is disabled, and no one can reach her. There’s no one matching her description in nearby hospitals, mental health facilities, or jails.” Lee handed Markos the report Val had sent.
“I see.”
“This is highly unusual.” Lee spoke as if she were back onLaw & Order SVU,where she’d had her first two speaking parts. “My sister is devoted to her girls. She’d never stay away and not be in touch.”
“Do you mind if I start with the basics?”
“Of course. I mean, no. No, I don’t mind.” Lee arranged her facial features to readAmiable but deeply concerned. Easy to work with and responsible…NOT mentally ill.
“Please give me her full name, age, and physical description—her weight, height, hair and eye color.” Lee complied, and Markos asked, “Any distinguishing features?”
“A birthmark on her right thigh,” said Lee.
“And she was last seen…?”
“She left home last Tuesday, saying she was going to Santorini for an artistic workshop. But my teenaged niece is a computerwhiz…and she can’t find any workshops on Santorini, or any hotel reservations in my sister’s name. Her car isn’t in her driveway. In Plaka. And her phone and computer are gone.”
“Do you know what your sister was wearing?”
Lee texted the girls. Isabelle sent a shrug emoji, but Flora wrote back,Mom was wearing a black T-shirt and her pink lululemon leggings. Gold sandals from Target in US. Diamond earrings, no watch.
“Do you have a recent photo? Any known threats or health issues?”
Lee texted the girls again and asked if Regan had friends to interview or if there was anyone who might have an issue with her.
She has NO FRIENDS,wrote Isabelle.
Flora sent a photo of Regan, sitting next to Flora in a nail salon. Both mother and daughter were grinning, holding up blue nail polish. Flora wrote,On my birthday!
Lee scrutinized the image. “She looks thin.”
“Can you tell me what her daily habits are? Any routines?”
Lee sighed. “Listen, I feel like I should bring the girls in. I just got here, to Athens.”
Markos nodded. “Can you write down her social media profiles and her phone number?”
Lee complied.
“She’s a single mother?” said Markos. “Full custody?” Lee nodded. “Can you provide the ex-husband’s phone number?” Lee nodded again.
“Since your sister is an adult with no health conditions, her case is classified as low risk. We’ll send out an Alert Hellas, and then touch base about what’s next. We can involve media—”
