“Anyone who witnessed or heard anything suspicious in the area should contact us immediately. Cordons have been erected around the address, and there will be a heavy police presence in the area as we continue our investigation.”
“He was running for president?!” I snap, my blood boiling again. That sure doesn’t help the fucked-up situation. “Mayor and philanthropist versus plain old me.”
“You’re dumb,” Shawn clips, rolling his eyes. “I get that you’re riled up, but you don’t have to act so fucking stupid. She loves you, Theo.”
She does. I don’t doubt that for a second, but it doesn’t change the facts. I’m not sure what hurts more—that she was married or that she didn’t tell me. Both hurt, I guess, but the fact she didn’t trust me enough to share that piece of information sooner cuts deeper.
I hand Nico the iPad. He glances over the article again before he copies and pastes different paragraphs into the translator to find more information that may shed further light on the murder mystery.
The next one he finds confirms what we already know—Thalia was charged with murder. I know the scene initially looked like suicide, but articles relating to that little detail are vague, and there’s no description of what the scene actually looked like other than the guy was found in a bathtub.
Nico then stumbles upon an interview with Thalia’s parents and friends. “Listen to this. This is what Thalia’s father told the press.We no longer have a daughter. There are no words to describe how ashamed and outraged we are. We truly believe that justice will be served swiftly, and we expect the strongest possible punishment for this heinous crime.”
What kind of parent would spew such venom about their daughter? No matter what shit I’d get up to, my parents would never turn their backs on me.
“There’s more.”
He reads the statements of a few of Thalia’s friends, who unanimously repeat the same lines: ashamed to have known her, willing her to rot in prison. At the top of the page, there’s a picture gallery with images of Thalia’s parents standing in front of a vandalized house—broken windows, trash littering the front lawn, and graffiti marking the walls.
Nico flips through the gallery, showing us pictures of thousands of flowers laid outside Vasilis’s house, pictures of crowds standing outside the courthouse, holding nasty banners. And the one that makes my stomach somersault—a picture of my girlinhandcuffs inside the courtroom, standing next to a lawyer whose arms are crossed. He’s nonchalantly looking away from his client as if representing her is a nightmare.
This isn’t how I imagined the trial. I’ve not had much time to imagine it, but I wouldn’t have picturedthisregardless of how long I’d have to think.
Thalia was deemed public enemy number one. Everyone hated her, including those whose love and protection should’ve been unconditional—her parents.
I fight the impulse to vomit, bitter bile climbing up my throat. This must be why she never talked about her parents, friends, or anyone she left behind in Greece. This is why she dodged the topic at every turn.
No names, no stories, no pictures.
The murder accusations must be the reason why she came to America. To escape the hatred back home.
“That’s odd,” Nico says. “Two days before the end of the trial, all charges were dropped.” Deep creases line his forehead when he reads the article in silence. “No explanation. Vasilis’s death was ruled a suicide, and Thalia walked away without a mark on her record.”
He gives me the iPad, so I can read the concise and straight-to-the-point article. “That makes no sense.”
My mind splits in half. An unruly, prickly itch whizzes through me at the mere thought of the hell Thalia’s life must’ve been during the trial, but I can’t shake the main issue.
“She wasmarried,” I remind them, my words coming a bit slurred now that I’m onto my fourth drink. “She wanted to spend her life with that guy.”
“They were married for eleven days, Theo.” Jack counters, throwing the little detail we learned from one of the articles back in my face. “That’s hardly a lifetime. We all have a past. I get why you’re upset, but you can’t hold her accountable for what she did before she met you. You did some crazy shit over the years, and I bet you didn’t tell her any of it.”
“Sure, we all have a past, but I was never married, and if I were, I would’ve told her about it before we got so fucking serious. I wasn’t even engaged. Fuck! I was never in love before I met her.” I massage my temples with the tips of my fingers. “I’m so confused.”
“Did she say why she didn’t tell you sooner?”
“I didn’t let her get a word in,” I admit, shame ringing in my voice. “I stormed out...”
Logan’s jaw tics, but the tone of his voice is measured and neutral as if not to rile me up further. “You won’t get to the bottom of this if you don’t talk to her. You read the articles. It sounds like she went through hell. I’m sure talking about it isn’t easy. She’s trying to forget it ever happened.”
“That doesn’t absolve her. She should’ve told me sooner. This isn’t trivial, Logan. I’ve been thinking about a future with her. Ring, wedding, kids... and now I find out there already was a fucking husband!”
“You’ve got some odd priorities, bro. She was accused of murder,” Nico clips, drilling a hole in me with his vicious, black stare. “That should concern you more.”
“The charges were dropped. She didn’t kill him.”
He doesn’t respond, staring straight ahead, jaw working in tight circles as he tries his hardest not to speak.
“You think she killed him?” I boom, my temper all over the place. “You have got to be kidding. You’ve seen her! You think she could overpower a guy?”