Page 51 of Threads of Hope

Not long now. Wait for instructions for the transfer on the first day of October. If the money is not transferred, your secret will be revealed to everyone.

Brea’s hand shook as she held the note. “This is so much creepier than I thought it would be.”

Oriana understood what she meant. Blackmailers seemed theoretical, taken from crime thrillers or fantasy sagas.

“I’m going to contact Rita, my private investigator,” Oriana said. “Now that Grant knows about the blackmailer, I feel safe telling one more person.”

But Rita didn’t pick up her phone this time. It rang multiple times and then went to voicemail. After Oriana tried a final time, she contacted Steve Montgomery about Rita, and he explained she’d gone to South America to work on a case and wouldn’t be back for another couple of weeks at the earliest. Oriana’s heart sank.

“Why don’t we try Grant’s guy?” Brea suggested.

“I guess it’s our only option,” Oriana agreed, leafing through her pocket to find the napkin upon which Grant had written the telephone number for Carl. It was only eight in the morning, but they were running short on time. The call had to happen now.

The phone rang three times before a man answered it. Immediately, a shiver of recognition went down Oriana’s spine.

“Good morning. How may I help you?”

Oriana frowned. “Um. Carl?” But after a brief sputter, she added, “I’m sorry. You just sound so much like my friend Nick.”

The open-hearted laughter on the other line confirmed that this was, in fact, Nick. “Oriana? Is that you?”

Brea’s face echoed her panic and surprise, and Oriana’s stomach twisted with a mix of confusion and joy. After all, she’d had marvelous times with Nick over the years. She’d even run into him recently at that party in Manhattan and felt she’d seen, within his eyes, so many long-lost nights with him, dancing in clubs, eating take-out, laughing.

“How did you get this number?” Nick asked.

“My uncle gave it to me,” Oriana explained with the wave of her hand. “He said you sometimes work for him. As a private detective?”

Nick laughed again. “Yeah. You know me, Oriana. I always get carried away with my odd jobs. Private detective work has been my bread and butter for quite a while now. I love getting involved in other people’s business.”

“That does sound like you. You were always the biggest gossip in Manhattan.”

“Unfortunately, I had to learn to keep people’s secrets to myself unless someone shells out enough cash to hear them,” Nick explained.

“Oh gosh. Wonderful.” Oriana shook her head, still at a loss.

“So. I take it you wanted to hire a private detective?”

“Right. Yes.” Oriana’s thoughts spun. “Maybe we could talk about it in person? I don’t love talking about it over the phone.”

“Are you in the city?”

“I could be,” Oriana said. “Time is of the essence. I could be there by tomorrow?”

“Sounds wonderful,” Nick said. “Shall I text you an address and time?”

“That sounds great. And Nick?”

“What is it?”

“My uncle called you Carl. Isn’t that strange?”

“It’s better to be undercover,” Nick explained. “My friends know me as Nick, but sometimes I have to investigate my friends. It’s a tricky business. But somebody has to do it.”

Oriana laughed again, and Nick joined in, and for a moment, Oriana could pretend that they were twenty-five again, up against the world in a pitch-black club as techno beats pumped through their bodies and they raised their arms to the sky.

After Oriana got off the phone, she had to face Brea, who looked as though she’d just seen a terrible accident.

“That was Nick?” she asked. “How is that possible?”

---