XVIII. LONG ISLAND
Charlie stopped talking. He seemed deep in thought: “You know, I have a place on the Island. We can set up there if you want?”
LaRissa shook her head in confusion. “And we’ve been sitting in this Prius for three hours?”
“Sorry – I don’t usually invite reporters there.”
Estrella punched the address of his Glen Cove estate into LaRissa’s phone GPS.
After an uneventful, peaceful, thirty-minute drive over the Whitestone Bridge, down the Cross Island Expressway, and weaving through the increasingly more impressive neighborhoods on the north shore of Long Island, LaRissa pulled up to Estrella’s five-bedroom, 23,000 square-foot mansion. She stretched her head toward the steering wheel to take in the sprawling estate. The house resembled Hearst Castle, with its white marble
