Six months later, they declared him legally dead. Presumed victim of foul play. Case closed.
I grieved. Moved on. Remarried. Built a life with Franklin.
“But he wasn’t dead,” Albert said. “He was in witness protection.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“Thomas witnessed a crime. A murder. Connected to organized crime. The people involved were powerful. Dangerous. The FBI offered him protection. A new identity. A new life.”
“Without telling me?”
“They told him he couldn’t contact you. That doing so would put you in danger. He had to choose: testify and disappear, or refuse and likely be killed himself.”
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