My sister stared at me with a look of coldness I’d never seen before in her eyes. “He’s not good, Nina. He’s a Stone just like his father and brother. His father had Daddy killed and he found you to make himself feel better.”
I shook my head violently. “No, that’s not true, Kim. I know he felt bad at first and that’s why he came to find me, but then we fell in love. He’s a good man. I know he is.”
Without breaking her icy stare, she slid the paper across the table to me and pulled her hand back. “Then how do you explain your good man doing that?”
My heart pounded so hard that my chest began to ache. I didn’t want to look down at what was written on that sheet of paper. I believed deep in my soul that Tristan was a good man and loved me as much as I loved him, and I didn’t want to know that I could be wrong. I didn’t want to see an indictment of who he was written in my own father’s handwriting.
Holding back the tears that threatened to pour down my cheeks, I shook my head. “I won’t do this with you. Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. Tristan is the man I love, and I’m going to marry him. I won’t let you ruin this for me.”
“Look at the paper, Nina. Look at what Daddy found out about your fiancé.”
My heart ached at the thought of what I’d find, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had to read it, if only to prove that Kim had it all wrong. I unfolded the sheet and there at the top of the page was his name.
Tristan Stone—August 2006—Hoboken
My eyes slowly scanned the next line, but I didn’t understand my father’s notes. All it seemed to be was an address with a bunch of numbers after it.
99 Garden Street NJ #0002675-2006
I looked up at Kim, confused as to what I was supposed to know from these notes. “What is this? I don’t understand.”
“Daddy’s notes are at the top. He found out about a girl’s death in 2006—a girl’s death your future husband was responsible for. The notes below are Jeff’s. I had him check into this when I realized who Tristan really was.”
I read my father’s notes about Tristan again, still not understanding them, and then moved on to Jeff’s. As my eyes slid over each word, the horrifying truth became clear.
Arrest record #0002675-2006 Tristan Stone arrested for the murder of Melissa Raynard on August 13, 2006. Case dismissed after death ruled an accident.
As I stared at the words swimming before me over the lined notebook paper, I heard Kim speak. “He killed a girl, Nina. He gave her the drugs. She was only twenty-one years old and he killed her. Oh, his father’s money kept him out of jail and from what Jeff says the coroner said the death looked like an accident, but if he didn’t kill her, he sure as hell was responsible for her death. He was a coke addict and that girl paid the price for knowing him. I couldn’t let you go on thinking he was the person he claims he is. He’s bad, Nina, and you’re going to get hurt or worse if you stay with him.”
Opening my hands, I let the paper drop to the table and shook my head in disbelief. “No, this can’t be. He wouldn’t do that.”
“Did you know he used cocaine back then? Did he tell you that?”
I wanted to scream, to run away from every word she uttered. Instead, I continued to shake my head, not wanting to believe Tristan could hurt anyone like that. I couldn’t think of him like that person described in my father’s notes.
But I couldn’t help it. Maybe if I hadn’t seen him sitting in front of the coke with my own eyes that night at Top, I could believe it was all a mistake or some awful, cruel ploy of Kim’s to hurt me, but I had and now those notes of my father’s and Jeff’s seemed entirely possible.
“Nina, you’ve seen him do coke, haven’t you? I can tell by the look on your face that you know what Daddy and Jeff found out is the truth.”
My head pounded and it felt like someone was strangling the air out of me. I stood up, still shaking my head, and croaked out, “I can’t do this. I can’t stay here.”
I ran out of Malone’s into the street desperate to find Jensen. Frantically, I searched up and down the sidewalk for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Where was Varo? Why wasn’t Jensen nearby like he always was? God, I just wanted to see a familiar face, someone to get me out of there and take me home.
Home where I lived with Tristan.
My feet were moving, but I didn’t know where I was going. My mind spun like a top, making me dizzy and lightheaded. Nausea choked me, making me want to throw up, and I reached out to steady myself on a pole. I couldn’t breathe. All I could think of were those words on that paper describing a man I thought I knew. Did I even know him at all if he could keep this from me, even after promising to tell me the truth?