I felt the tension in Gray, as evident as if it were another presence in the room. I knew the balance of everything was hanging precariously. Whatever the Vasilious were about to tell us would either end everything or begin it.
Gray and I sat, ready to listen, ready for whatever came next.
“This is not a happy tale,” Rico began. “It’s about a family who once came to us seeking their loved one. The year was 1992. They were an English family with a young daughter and a teenage son. The son, Noah, had been in trouble for many years prior. Lost to the drug culture. He was offered a place in a special treatment program. They offered him money for taking part in the treatment, a chance to start again. He told this to his parents over the phone—and he apparently accepted this offer.” Rico paused. “His parents never saw him again.”
“What kind of treatment?” I asked, confused at how this story connected with the things Gray and I had discovered.
Petrina placed a hand on her husband’s knee. “A treatment for his addiction. The treatment centre was meant to be somewhere here in Greece. Noah wasn’t meant to say anything about this program—he’d signed a confidentiality clause—but he did. That was the last they heard from him. The boy’s parents were beside themselves, of course, when week after week went by without a word. They came to Greece in search of him. They were not rich people—they sold everything they had and bought an old motorcycle to get around on. Tragically, they were killed in a road accident not long after we met them. They were on their motorcycle when they were run off the road on a steep mountain bend. The driver of the other vehicle never came forward.”
“That’s awful,” I breathed. “But why did they come to you about Noah? You’re history professors.”
“Like you,” Rico told us, “they’d found out some information about the symbol you showed us. We were their last resort after the police couldn’t help them. It was the worst decision for them, I’m afraid.”
Gray was concentrating steadily on their faces. He still seemed wary, as if weighing everything they said against some measure of his own.
Petrina gave a silent sigh, her shoulders rising and falling. “We made some discoveries, and then those discoveries led the couple to discover more. But they were murdered before they could tell us what they found out. It would have been better if we hadn’t agreed to help them.”
“They were murdered?” I gasped. “It wasn’t an accident?”
“I don’t believe it was an accident,” Petrina answered. “Most people would stop or at least try to get help. The driver of the car did neither.”
An uneasy feeling embedded itself in my lower spine. “That’s terrible.”
“Yes, it is terrible,” said Petrina. “At the time of their death, their ten-year-old daughter was staying with us—Jennifer. She was devastated, naturally. There was barely any family that could take her, just a couple of elderly relatives that weren’t certain they could cope with a child. Anyway, Jennifer wanted to remain with us. And so that’s what happened. We raised her. We always wondered if she might head back to England when she turned eighteen, but she didn’t. She stayed in Greece and took up her parents’ cause.”
“What do you mean, her parents’ cause?” asked Gray. “You mean finding her brother?”
“Exactly.” Petrina gave a nod. “We were terrified for her, as it was a dangerous thing for her to do. But she’s thirty-five now. A lot of time has gone past.”
Gray leaned forward, resting an arm on one knee. “Is she still looking?”
Petrina seemed uncomfortable with his question. “No. It’s been twenty-five years. She did end up returning to England and making a life there.”
Gray raised his chin in a slight nod, but his gaze remained intent. He was so different to the lost, angry young man I’d first met at his doorstep clutching his wife’s note. He seemed so focused, like he was constantly running calculations in his head.
“What a difficult time Jennifer must have had with losing all of her family,” I said to Petrina. “I’m glad she had you and Rico.”
“We’re glad we had her.” Petrina’s eyes turned wistful. “She was a lovely child. Loved to swim and paint pictures in equal measure. She could have gone far with either passion, but she didn’t wish to.”
Rico squeezed his wife’s hand, which was still on his knee. “Now, you two will want to know what we know about the symbol you brought to us. What we know isn’t much, I’m afraid.”