Page 99 of The Unknown

That one still mystifies me, knowing it was the only trick in which I inadvertently took part. My fingers were on the glass, too, and not once did I feel it being purposefully nudged or forced.

“That was easy,” Julianne says. “It didn’t take much pressure at all to move it where we wanted. With just two people, it would have been obvious that someone was pushing. Because there were five of us, the pressure exerted by the four of us wasn’t as noticeable and outweighed anything you did. You had no choice but to follow along.”

“But the names—”

“We told each other in advance,” Violet says. “Including Molly’s.”

I don’t need to ask how they knew. “Marin Keane” is not a common name. Especially one who had an eleven-year-old sister drown when they were four. It likely took one Google search to find out all about Molly.

“What about Elise?” I say.

The name causes Violet to flinch. Not much. Just enough to tell me that Ronan wasn’t the only one who knew her.

“She was our friend,” Violet says.

Susie gives a sad nod. “We grew close after seeing each other at the same auditions and acting classes.”

“That’s where I met her,” Julianne says. “I was her acting teacher for a time.”

“She had a small part on one of my shows,” Heather adds. “I liked her immediately. She was easy to like.”

Violet reaches out to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “We met on one of my films. She was a glorified extra. Just starting out. But I saw something in her. The same thing I see in you, Marin. Such promise. We became fast friends. Loretta, too. We both loved her very much.”

“And Brad? He knew her, too?”

“They were high school friends,” Susie says. “The two of them moved to Los Angeles together, determined to make it in the movies, Brad in special effects and Elise in acting. And then—” Her voice cracks, streaked with sorrow. “She died.”

“What happened to her?”

“Ronan Peters happened,” Violet says. “They met when he was preppingShred of Doubt. He got her cast in a major part.”

“Ronan doted on her,” Heather adds, giving me an unnecessarily pointed look. I get how familiar it all sounds. “Created a rapport. Built up trust.”

“My God, she wouldn’t stop talking about him,” Violet says. “She was smitten. And I could see why. Ronan is charming and good-looking and so talented. I will absolutely admit that, even after what he did.”

“What, exactly, did he do?” I say.

Violet’s features harden. “He used her.”

“They started hooking up,” Susie says. “Elise claimed it was mutual. That they both decided to have a fun, casual relationship. But I know he’s the one who instigated it. Ronan’s your basic fuckboi. Everybody in Hollywood knows it.”

And at least one person who’s never set foot in Hollywood—me. All those moments with Ronan click into place like the tumblers of a combination lock suddenly springing free. The too-long hug upon my arrival. The ingratiating talk of trust, of being a team, of being his favorite. The way he shed his shirt to dab my bloody knee even though his neckerchief was the obvious choice.

All of that paving the way for what happened an hour or so ago. Him in his underwear, forcing himself on me. Some would call that grooming. I’m sure Ronan would refer to it as seduction. And maybe, with one or two additional moves, under very different circumstances, he would have succeeded. Which is why it’s easy to understand how Elise could have fallen under his spell.

“They were a thing for a few weeks before Ronan ended it,” Susie says.

They tell me everything that happened, step by step. Elise being fired from the movie, allegedly because she didn’t have enough experience. Cast in her place was a megastar. Someone as big as Violet, though not as talented.Shred of Doubtbecame a hit while Elise struggled to get cast in anything. It’s a tale as old as Hollywood.

“One night, Elise checked into the Chateau Marmont with no luggage and two bottles of pills,” Violet says solemnly. “The hotel maid found her dead the next morning.”

Sorrow squeezes my heart. That poor, wounded girl.

“Few people noticed or cared,” Julianne says.

Heather nods. “In Hollywood, it happens all the time.”

“To most, Elise was just another nameless, faceless actress,” Susie says.