Four Years Later
Vasara plunks her mug down so hard that her coffee splatters, only narrowly missing her keyboard. Frowning, she opens the e-mail.
H
i, Vasara,
It’s been a while since we spoke several years ago when you visited the Riga Institute. You wanted me to let you know if new information came to light. As I said, the chances of that happening were remote, but I pinned your details to my memo board and have been keeping my eyes open for you….
Vasara sucks in her breath. She swivels in her office chair and closes her eyes. Her trip to Riga belongs to another era, relegated to a dusty corner of her brain, the door shut firmly after it.
At first, Vasara chafed bitterly at the way things had turned out. For months after Daina left with the Guttmans, she had delayed the journey. She did not want to go to Riga alone. But when the last of the snow had melted into the sidewalks and the lawns had grown green again, she had finally accepted that Daina was not planning to return. After packing a small duffel bag, Vasara had hitchhiked to Panevežys and crossed the border into Latvia on the Ecolines coach.
