Chương 11
Sometimes she did not.
At first she felt guilty missing anything. Then Ortiz told her, “Your sister is already dead. You do not have to sacrifice your life to prove you loved her.”
Sofia went back to work full-time.
She took a pottery class because Hannah signed them both up and refused to accept refunds.
Sofia made three ugly bowls.
The third was less ugly.
Her mother joined a grief group and hated everyone in it for the first month.
Then she started bringing cookies.
Evelyn opened a small compliance practice with a partner she had known from law school. Her first office had bad fluorescent lighting and a printer that jammed every fifteen pages.
She seemed happier.
Daniel sold his share in his investment firm before his partners forced the question.
He moved to a smaller apartment.
He and Sofia communicated through practical messages at first.
Mail.
Furniture.
Insurance.
The lease.
Their joint streaming account, which became a ridiculous argument because neither could remember the password.
One afternoon, nearly seven months after the wedding, Sofia met him at a storage facility to divide the last boxes.
Daniel held up a waffle maker.
“Yours.”
“I bought that for you.”
“You hated it.”
“You wanted waffles every Sunday.”
“I wanted waffles twice.”
“You talked about them for six months.”
“That doesn’t mean I wanted a machine.”
Sofia stared at him.
Then she started laughing.
Daniel laughed too.
It lasted maybe ten seconds.
Afterward the silence hurt.
He set the waffle maker in her box.
“Take it.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then donate it.”
“You donate it.”
“Why is this my job?”
“Because you have the car.”
“You also have a car.”
They stared at each other.
Sofia shook her head.
“This is the dumbest conversation we’ve had.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Not even close.”
The humor disappeared.
He picked up another box.
Sofia said, “How are you?”
He shrugged.
“That’s not an answer.”
“I’m allowed not to answer.”
She blinked.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
Daniel looked surprised.
They carried boxes in silence.
At the elevator, he said, “My father’s trial starts in six weeks.”
“I know.”
“I’m testifying.”
“I know.”
“I’m scared.”
Sofia looked at him.
He had said it plainly.
No explanation.
No excuse.
She appreciated that more than she wanted to.
“You should be.”
“I am.”
The elevator arrived.
Before Sofia stepped inside, Daniel said, “I’m sorry I made you discover me instead of knowing me.”
She stared at him.
It was the closest he had ever come to naming the betrayal accurately.
“Me too,” she said.
The doors closed.
Thomas Cross’s trial lasted five weeks.
Calvin Price testified for three days.
He described following Claire to the motel, confronting her in the parking lot, and calling Thomas after Claire refused to surrender her laptop.
Thomas arrived angry.
Price said he had expected Thomas to frighten Claire.
Instead, Thomas grabbed the laptop.
Claire pulled it back.
She told him copies existed.
Thomas struck her.
Not a dramatic beating.
One blow.
A panicked, furious movement from a man unaccustomed to people refusing him.
Claire stepped backward, caught her heel against the concrete parking stop, and fell.
The back of her head struck the pavement.
Price testified that Claire was breathing but unconscious.
He wanted to call emergency services.
Thomas refused.
That part became the center of the case.
Not the blow.
The minutes afterward.
Price said Thomas crouched beside Claire, felt for a pulse, then stood and said, “If she wakes up, we’re finished.”
Price admitted helping put Claire into the Suburban.
He admitted driving to the drainage area.
He admitted leaving her there.
He claimed she stopped breathing during the drive.
The medical evidence could not prove or disprove that.
Sofia listened from the courtroom.
Her mother left during the description of the body.
Sofia stayed.
Not because she was stronger.
Because she could not make her legs move.
Daniel testified next.
His father did not look at him when he entered.
Daniel told the jury about the internal audit, the leaked invoices, Claire’s questions, the threat to his family, the phone call, the motel exit.
The prosecutor asked why he had remained silent for six years.
Daniel said, “Cowardice.”
Thomas’s attorney stood.
“Mr. Cross, are you hoping this testimony will protect you from prosecution?”
“I assume cooperation helps me.”
“So you benefit from blaming your father.”
“Yes.”
The attorney paused, apparently surprised.
Daniel continued.
“That doesn’t make what I’m saying false.”
“You lied for six years.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to the woman you intended to marry.”
“Yes.”
“You concealed physical evidence.”
“Yes.”
“You destroyed records?”
“No.”
“You expect this jury to believe you suddenly developed a conscience?”
Daniel looked toward Sofia.
She wished he hadn’t.
Then he looked back at the attorney.
“No.”
The attorney frowned.
“No?”
“I developed consequences.”
A few people in the courtroom shifted.
Daniel said, “My conscience was there. I ignored it.”
Sofia looked down at her hands.
That sounded true.
Thomas testified against his attorneys’ advice.
He claimed Price had attacked Claire.
He claimed Daniel was using the case to settle years of resentment.
He claimed the motel meeting had been intended to negotiate the return of stolen proprietary documents.
The prosecutor asked why he had denied knowing Claire at Sofia’s wedding.
Thomas said he had been confused.
The prosecutor played a phone recording from the hallway.
Thomas’s own voice:
I have no idea.
Then Evelyn:
You said you didn’t know her.
Then Thomas:
Whatever my son thinks he remembers from years ago—
The courtroom remained silent.
Thomas shifted in the witness chair.
For the first time since Sofia had known him, he looked small.
Not remorseful.
Just cornered.
The jury deliberated for four days.
Sofia spent most of them at work.
On the fourth afternoon, Ortiz called.
Verdict.
Margaret met Sofia outside the courthouse.
Evelyn was already there.
Daniel arrived separately.
May you like
They did not sit together.
The jury found Thomas guilty on the most serious homicide charge the prosecution had pursued and on additional counts related to concealment and obstruction.
