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“It is,” Oriana said. “I mean, my career is on the line. I’ll be made a laughingstock.” She paused, licked her lips, then added quickly, “I know that is nothing compared to some of your cases. The Mandy Dolores case was especially heinous.”
“It’s important not to compare cases,” Rita told her. “I don’t think about my past cases as I handled new ones. They’re all unique.”
Oriana exhaled all the air from her lungs.
“Tell me about this friend of yours,” Rita went on.
“Her name is Brea Larkin,” Oriana said. “She was raised here on Martha’s Vineyard, just like me and Steve. We became best friends when we were four, and after that, we were inseparable until she went away.”
Rita nodded. “And what year was that?”
“The year 2000.”
“And you’ve had no contact with her since then?” Rita asked.
“No. I heard that she went to Argentina. But I don’t know if she stayed there. Twenty-three years is a long time to stay in Argentina.”
“True,” Rita said. “What was her reason for leaving the country?”
Oriana stalled. This was exactly what she didn’t want to reveal to anyone, even the private detective. “It’s a long story,” she said. “And one I don’t want to get into.”
“Okay,” Rita said.
“I don’t think it matters why she left,” Oriana continued. “Just where she ended up. You see, I need to speak to her before the end of the month.”
“There’s a time limit?”
“There is,” Oriana said simply. If she didn’t get to the bottom of this, she would be forced to pay three million dollars – but she didn’t want to get into that, either.
“Was Brea living on the island before she left? Or elsewhere?” Rita asked.
“We were in New York City for a while,” Oriana explained, “until our careers took off, and we decided to move back here. I had two young children, and she wanted to start a family.”
“Did she start one?”
Oriana shook her head, her heart spiking with pain.
“Any chance she left records in Oaks Bluff about where she was off to next?” Rita asked.
“I sincerely doubt it,” Oriana said.
Silence hung heavily in the car. Oriana feared Rita was on the brink of telling her how impossible this case sounded. It certainly sounded like a shot in the dark to find Brea in the big, open world.
“I’ll do what I can,” Rita said.
“She lived on Witchwood Avenue,” Oriana sputtered. “Before she left, I mean. The address was 6715.”
“That’s helpful,” Rita offered, although Oriana wasn’t sure it was. “Thank you.”
“And I’ll pay you handsomely,” Oriana assured her. “Whatever your rate is.”
“I can send that information over later,” Rita said. “Right now, I’ll get started on this and be in touch when I know something more.”
It was clear their meeting was over. Oriana thanked Rita again, shook her hand, and quickly transferred cars. Before she could start her engine, Rita was off, speeding down the road with an intensity that seemed fitting for a private detective. Oriana had a strange taste in her mouth. She wasn’t sure this was entirely right. Still, it seemed like the only way.
After all, she didn’t have three million sitting around, unlike the clients she’d worked with the previous few decades. All her money was tied up, reserved for a retirement that, she and Reese hoped, would be comfortable and full of love. Hadn’t Oriana worked hard enough for that, despite everything that had happened?
Could one mistake destroy her life forever?
