Page 27 of Footprints in the Sand (Coleman #13)

Chapter Twenty-Three

T hree nights after the disastrous night on the yacht with William Cottrill and his horrendous friends, Dimitra was hard at work in her studio, painting full-speed-ahead for her upcoming exhibition in Athens.

The fact that William had threatened her, told her that she’d made a powerful man very angry, no longer bothered her very much.

The podcast inquiries had dried up, and sales had shrunk a bit, but because of Eva’s amazing work on social media, people were still very much interested in Dimitra’s work.

Maybe what William could or couldn’t do to affect her career was minimal.

Perhaps she had more control than she’d thought.

Harry texted her, asking if she wanted to go for burgers later. Dimitra wrote back with a resounding yes.

DIMITRA: But only if I can give Cash a few of my french fries. He deserves it.

HARRY: You spoil him more than I do!

DIMITRA: He deserves it.

Just as Dimitra prepared to text him back, biting her bottom lip and thinking of another way to bring him into her world, Eva called. Dimitra’s heart jumped.

“Eva! It’s you!”

Eva’s voice wavered slightly. “I’m sorry it’s taken me a little while to get back to you! Things have been a little crazy over here.”

“Summertime on Paros is wild,” Dimitra agreed.

“Yes. Right.” Eva still sounded strained.

It took Dimitra a second to remember that Eva was calling her back, which meant that Dimitra had something to ask her. “Right. So Finn stopped by the house.”

Eva gasped. “Really? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. He was really worried about you,” Dimitra said. “He said that somebody had used the bank card associated with the bank account you and Finn still share.”

“Oh my gosh.” Eva’s voice was a string. There was the sound of things being tossed here and there, presumably Eva looking for her wallet. “The card isn’t here. Someone took it.”

“Don’t worry,” Dimitra assured her. “Finn already canceled the card.”

“Without telling me?”

“He tried to get ahold of you,” Dimitra said softly.

Eva groaned. Dimitra wanted to wrap her arms around the girl and tell her it would be all right. It had to be.

“He bought a motorbike?” Eva asked with a funny laugh. “That’s insane.”

“Do you know who might have taken it?” Dimitra asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Eva said.

“Go to the police,” Dimitra urged her. “They’re good people. They’ll help you.”

Eva was quiet for a moment. “Do you know the cops here well?”

“They were friendly with Kostos,” Dimitra said. “They all grew up together.”

“Oh,” Eva said. “That’s nice.”

But there was something in Eva’s voice that Dimitra couldn’t read.

Soon after, they got off the phone, and Dimitra had to get ready for her burger date with Harry and Cash.

It was chillier than she’d reckoned for, mid-sixties, which was a rarity this late in July, so she opted for a jean jacket and a pair of loose-fitting dark green pants.

She was in her fifties, for goodness’ sake.

She deserved a few french fries. She deserved pants that let that happen.

At seven that evening, Harry and Cash were waiting for her at the boardwalk, stylish and glowing in the sunlight.

Dimitra greeted Harry with a kiss on the cheek and Cash with a kiss on the head.

Her heart swelled, and she thought, My boys!

Because of the future, because of everything they couldn’t be to one another, she and Harry had decided to remain friends.

But it was the kind of friendship that made her weak at the knees.

It was the kind of friendship that made her listen to love songs on repeat.

It was the kind of friendship that forced her to reckon with what Kostos had been like during their marriage—and how wrong that had often been.

In her fifties, she was growing and learning more than she’d ever thought she would.

At the burger place, Dimitra ordered a mushroom and swiss burger, and Harry got the double cheeseburger with bacon. “Ginny never lets me order this down in South Carolina,” he explained. “She’s always telling me why I shouldn’t eat meat, why I should exercise more.”

“She loves you,” Dimitra said with a laugh. “How awful!”

Harry smiled and rolled his eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you have children with your husband?”

Dimitra’s heart felt shadowed. It was an intimate question, but one she wanted to allow. “We tried,” she said finally. “It didn’t work for us.”

Harry touched her hand. Their french fries were getting cold between them.

“You are so good at showing love, at caring for people,” Harry said.

Dimitra raised her shoulders. “It’s what I always wanted to do for a child.” Her voice broke. “But now I have Cash to dote on.” She bent down to feed Cash a french fry, which he ate in a single chomp.

Harry and Dimitra enjoyed their meals, chatting about everything from parenting, to sailing, to the dogs they remembered growing up with.

It was remarkable to realize that they were nearly the same age and therefore remembered many of the same songs and movies from their childhood, despite having been raised oceans apart.

They remembered the same historical events.

“It’s bizarre to think we’re more than halfway done with our lives, isn’t it?” Harry said.

“I want to be alive as long as I can,” Dimitra said. “I want to experience as much of all of this as possible. I want to make art and sing songs and swim in every ocean. I want so much.”

Harry’s eyes glinted with what could only be love. But was it love? Dimitra didn’t want to get ahead of herself. She didn’t want to expect anything.

They’d already agreed on friendship only.

After they left the burger restaurant, they meandered down the boulevard, occasionally holding hands and then letting their fingers disconnect.

It was after a half-hour walk that Dimitra’s phone buzzed with a call from Athena, which was strange, because it was late for Greece. Initially, Dimitra was going to ignore it. But Harry was getting a call, too.

“It’s my ex-wife. It could be something to do with Ginny,” he said. “It’ll just be a second.”

They smiled and stepped away from one another for privacy. Cash wagged his tail and looked from one of them to the other, confused but happy.

Athena’s voice rattled Dimitra from her happy bubble. In Greek, she said, “Have you seen the news?”

Dimitra furrowed her brow. “What? No.”

“It’s everywhere,” Athena said. “I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t understand how this happened.”

Dimitra begged her sister to slow down. She thought of Aphrodite, of Nico, of her parents. “Is everyone safe? Is everyone okay?”

“It’s Kostos,” Athena cried. “He’s alive.”

Dimitra thought she was going to fall to the ground. “What are you talking about?”

Everything was in slow motion. She shifted around to find Harry, his phone pressed against his ear, gaping at her. His eyes were panicked. Athena still hadn’t begun to explain.

“I need to let you go,” Dimitra said.

“Wait,” Athena begged.

But Dimitra hung up. Harry got off the phone, too.

“Apparently, there are photos of us on the internet,” Harry said to Dimitra. His voice was strained.

Dimitra couldn’t breathe.

“My ex-wife saw them,” he said. “There’s gossip that, um, we helped your ex-husband fake his own death? For insurance money?”

Dimitra’s breathing was rapid and out of sync. She gripped the boardwalk railing and bent her knees. “I don’t understand. Kostos is dead. He died. In a fishing accident.”

Harry had his phone out and searched for more information. When he found it, he turned his screen around so that Dimitra could read: Greek Drug Dealer Fakes Own Death and Starts New Life with Second Family.

The photographs were of Kostos with two little girls and a much younger wife.

Dimitra’s first instinct was to throw Harry’s phone into the water beside them.

Instead, she read the first few articles, learning that, apparently, after getting too involved in a drug ring on Paros Island, island police helped Kostos fake his own death and take on a different persona.

He was living with two daughters and a wife on Amorgos, an island south of Naxos, where he continued to oversee his drug ring at a distance.

His nephew through marriage, Nico, was also involved in said ring.

Dimitra’s heart pounded. Poor Athena.

Of course, the articles suggested that Dimitra and Harry had helped make Kostos disappear, that they’d struck an agreement. But that would be easy to disprove, she knew. She’d only just met Harry a few weeks ago. She’d spent the entire past year mourning Kostos.

“I can’t understand how they figured this out,” Harry said, shaking his head.

Dimitra had a sudden image of William Cottrill on his mighty yacht, smoking a cigar and gazing down at her ominously. He’d told her he had the power to destroy her. He’d basically told her that he’d smear her name.

But the funny thing was, William Cottrill had actually freed her. Dimitra now knew the truth about her terrible ex-husband. She now understood that he’d wanted to leave her so badly, that he’d hated her just that much, that it had been easier to fake his own death.

She didn’t want to be in a marriage like that. She deserved so much more.

“How do you feel?” Harry asked gently, touching her shoulder.

“Like I might faint,” she admitted, smiling.

“You look happier than I expected you to,” he said.

“I feel lighter, somehow,” Dimitra said.

Harry touched her hair. “He has two children.”

“He does.” Dimitra nodded.

Harry shook his head and wrapped her in a big bear hug. As Atlantic winds descended upon them, he held her like that, stroking her hair, telling her everything would be all right.

One way or the other.

But later that night, William Cottrill texted:

What a story, huh?

Dimitra didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.