“Maybe,” Tracy said. “But that’s a huge risk for someone to take for a friend she hasn’t seen or spoken with in years.” She paused, watching Orr. When Orr didn’t speak, Tracy continued. “We think it was someone Andrea was close to. Someone who would have understood all the tragedy Andrea had endured in her life. Someone who would have had sympathy for her, who would have wanted to help her, who felt an obligation to help her. We can understand that, Mrs. Orr; we can understand why you would have wanted to help your niece.”
“Me?” Orr scoffed and shook her head. She looked at each of them. “You think I did it? That’s ridiculous. I told you I don’t know where she is . . . or even if she is still alive.”
“I know that’s what you told me,” Tracy said. “And I understand why you told me, but Andrea was able to obtain a Washington State driver’s license in the name Lynn Hoff because she had a certified copy of a California birth certificate for a woman named Lynn Hoff, a woman who was born here in San Bernardino,” Tracy said. “You’ve worked at the County Assessor’s office in San Bernardino for many years, haven’t you?”
Orr maintained her composure though she continued fidgeting with her fingers. “Yes.”
“And the County Assessor’s Office merged with the County Recorder’s Office and the County Clerk’s Office to cut expenses. Didn’t it?”
“So,” Orr said.
“So, you would have had access to birth records,” Fields said.
“Everybody in those offices would have had access to those records,” Orr said. Her voice shook.
“Yes,” Tracy said, “but not everybody was related to a young woman seeking a new life.”
“We can get a subpoena,” Fields said, “and find out when the certified copy of the birth certificate was obtained from the recorder’s office. Identity theft is a crime.”
Tracy refrained from looking at Fields. She quickly added, “But we’re not interested in doing that, Mrs. Orr. Anyone in your situation would have done the same thing given the circumstances. What happened to Andrea is tragic. If anyone ever deserved the chance at a new life, she certainly did. We just want to find her and talk to her.”
Tears trickled down Orr’s cheeks. She closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest, making no effort to wipe the tears away. Outside, the pile driver clanged a steady, rhythmic beat. Slowly, Orr shook her head. Then she spoke in a shaky voice that barely rose above a whisper.
“Why?” She opened her eyes and looked at Tracy. “Hasn’t she been hurt enough? Why can’t people just leave her alone? She didn’t deserve any of the things that happened to her. Why can’t you just let her be?” She said the last words as if making a plea.
“I’m sorry,” Tracy said, feeling no elation or even relief. “I wish we could. I’m sorry for Andrea, and I’m sorry for you. No one deserves what happened to her, especially so young. I know you were only trying to protect her, and that you believed in your heart you were doing what was best for Andrea, but there are other families now that also have to be considered.”
“She couldn’t do it any other way,” Orr said, “not after her husband signed bank documents in her name. She was going to lose the only thing she had left, the only thing that she could use to get away. Don’t you understand? It was the only thing she had left that connected her to her parents.”
“I understand,” Tracy said.
“No,” Orr said, finding her voice and vehemently shaking her head. “No, you don’t understand.”
“My sister was murdered when I was twenty-two,” Tracy said. In her peripheral vision she saw Fields glance at her. Orr looked stunned. “I lost my father shortly thereafter. He shot himself. The grief was too much for him.”
“My God,” Orr said. “I’m sorry.”
“My husband at the time also left me. I lost an entire town and way of life. So I do understand why you did it. But some things have happened because of Andrea’s disappearance. People have died. We have to find out why. That’s our job. We have to find out why for the families of those other victims.”
“You think Andrea is somehow responsible?” Orr paused, looking to both of them. “That’s absurd. Andrea wouldn’t hurt anyone. All she wants to do is hike and read.”
“We still need to talk to her.”
For nearly a minute, Orr didn’t say a word. She sat looking out the sliding-glass door. A wisp of black smoke spiraled in the hot air. The machine continued to clang. Fields looked to Tracy, who slowly shook her head. She hoped he had the sense not to speak.
“I want to be there,” Orr said finally. “I want to be there when you talk to her.”
“Absolutely,” Tracy said, feeling a sense of relief but also excitement. “We just need you to take us to her.”
CHAPTER 33