The door opened and a woman dressed in a smart white blouse and black trousers entered the room. I couldn’t help but wonder what that blouse would look like with a splatter of blood sprayed across it.

“Miss Bloom?” she asked. Her voice was clipped—no-nonsense professionalism, but not exactly cold either. A woman who meant business. Who was she and what was she doing here?

“Yes,” I replied, standing up and offering my hand. She gave it two curt shakes.

“I’m Eshanya Padmaraj with Silverhawk Securities. I’m sure you’ve heard of us. We are a private security company and are investigating the disappearance and possible murder of Kaavindi Fonseka.”

Possible murder. The words ricocheted through me, tearing a hole in my chest. I just nodded.

“Her father, Nihal, wanted this matter attended to at once, and with the utmost discretion, as I’m sure you’ll understand,” she continued.

So Mr. Fonseka didn’t call the police, then? That’s interesting. I would have thought that with his connections he’d have rung up the inspector general himself. I’m guessing Mrs. Fonseka had something to do with that. They probably wanted everything kept under wraps until they had some answers. Things weren’t so bad just yet.

I took a deep breath, but it got caught somewhere in my chest and I started to cough.

“Would you like some water, Miss Bloom?”

“Yes, please,” I managed, and used this moment to eye her.

Miss Padmaraj looked to be in about her midforties. She was well-spoken and well-mannered, and she must certainly hold quite a senior position if she was allowed to head an investigation herself. It was practically unheard of for a woman, but I’m glad it wasn’t a man. Perhaps she’d be more sympathetic to what I was about to say. Perhaps she’d understand.

“I’ll be recording our conversation, and it’ll be transcribed for documentation purposes. I hope that’s okay,” she said, but she wasn’t asking for my permission. “The police will take your official statement afterward, if or when they are called in. Our conversation won’t be as formal. I’m mostly trying to get a clear understanding of everything that happened leading up to the wedding day in order to assist in the search for Miss Fonseka. Time is quite valuable right now, as you are probably aware.”

I took a deep breath and nodded.

“Let’s start. Could you state your name and address for the record, please?”

1

AMAYA

Three Months before the Wedding

I waited till the clock on my oven timer turned 8:08 p.m. to leave. I wasn’t superstitious, but it never hurt to wait for a good sign.

I took a deep breath and grabbed my small purse and keys off the counter as I made my way out.

The sleek black limousine was exactly where I knew it would be. Where it always was. A blond whose faded suit flapped around his shoulders was waiting near the rear passenger door. I slowed down, my wrestled confidence fading a little.