“You promised I wouldn’t have to do everything you say anymore,” she whines. “You said you didn’t know what was supposed to happen next.”

“I still expect you to behave like my daughter,” I say. “Don’t you want to save poor kitties like Miruku?”

“You killed Miruku!”

“It was an accident. Miruku was hit by a car.”

“You’re lying. I know that you did it.”

“Please, Coco,” I say, sinking to my knees. “Show me that you’re here, my darling. Give me some indication that the little girl I see before me is the Setsuko I love.”

“Do you want to know what he did to me?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“It was worse than you can imagine. I bit and scratched, but he was too strong.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When he got bored, he put his hairy hands on my throat and squeezed until I died.”

“Be quiet! You’re grounded.”

“But I was glad that I was dead, since it meant I would never have to see my awful mom who didn’t care about me ever again!”

In shock, I release her and she flees, and I lay my forehead on the sand, trying to regain my composure while my whole body shakes. It was the one memory meant to be lost forever. What if this is my proof that she has returned and is punishing me for not being a more careful mother? No, it can’t be. Setsuko has never met her abductor in this incarnation. The man who stole my daughter from her ninth birthday party and discarded her in a dumpster on the corner of Melrose and La Brea is serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole. As few facts as possible were explained to her about what happened that day. I’m not sure how she put this much of the story together. I must have erred, allowed too many changes from her former childhood. Wyatt’s project also couldn’t have helped matters. It’s given her some morbid ideas. I brush myself off and bitterly prepare to confront him about it.

Ever the director, he hasn’t yet gotten off the phone. I motion for him to finish the conversation. He knows when he can and can’t ignore me. He cuts short his call.

“Setsuko’s out of the film,” I say. “She’s becoming unmanageable.”

“I need at least another week to capture the ending.”

“She just threw her death in my face.”

“I swear I haven’t said a word about it.”

“She has to settle into her identity, and she’s too vulnerable to suggestion. I can’t allow more acting in her regimen.”

“Unfortunately, I’m unable to replace her at this stage. I’d have to reshoot too much of the script. It’s not in the budget.”

“So rewrite the remainder of the script.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway, Kyoko. The actress playing the wife has to take a leave of absence, but that puts us in a tough spot. I was hoping I could ask you to fill in. Then you could also keep an eye on Setsuko until we’ve wrapped.”