A/N: At long last, today is the day! Welcome to my new story, The Murder Suspect. Ever since the idea came to me last February, I have been eager to share this story with the Jasico community. Now I finally am going to, with a new chapter every Friday! That is, unless I ever catch up to where I currently am in the story (as of now I'm working on chapter 12) and in that case the update schedule will likely change. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy reading this fic as much as I have enjoyed writing it!
CH. 1—Just Your Typical Day in Manhattan (Minus The Typical Part)
...
Sixteen Year Old Nico di Angelo Still Missing After Murder of His Sister, Now Prime Suspect.
Jason eyed the headline warily—one of the dozens over the past few weeks that all said more or less the same thing. The media hadn't shut up about "New York's Newest Teenage Psychopath" since the story first hit the scene. Jason had assumed the story would be old news by now, but each day the suspected killer remained loose, the murder only got bigger and bigger, news of it spreading across the entire northeastern United States.
It was hard to believe that it had been over two whole weeks since all of this commotion started. Two weeks since Nico vanished seemingly into thin air. The last person to see him? Bianca, the newspapers always reported dramatically, as if it were part of some soap opera and not real life. So where was Nico? Over eight million people wanted to know.
It all began when Maria and Hades di Angelo had arrived home from a date night to find their daughter Bianca's blood splattered over the walls. According to the police, there was no sign of forced entry and all of the doors had remained locked that night, meaning that no one else but Nico could have done it. On top of that, his fingerprints were all over Bianca's body and the knife that killed her. The evening news also reported, perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm to be tasteful, that Bianca's body had suffered multiple wounds. Her murderer, whoever they were had stabbed her several times before actually killing her, or perhaps that they killed her and then continued to stab her for good measure. Jason didn't know which one would be worse.
It was all so bizarre. Jason went to school with these people. Or at least, he did up until two weeks ago. Now, Jason would admit that he was far from the brilliance of Sherlock Holmes, but you'd think he'd at least be able to tell if he was walking the same halls as a murderer, right?
Granted, Jason had never said more than four words to Nico in his entire life, but was that quiet, tired-looking sophomore really the murdering type? Yeah yeah, anyone was capable of murder Jason supposed, Nico included, but capable of murdering his own sister? If there was one thing about Nico that Jason knew, it was that the kid seemed to care more about his sister than any siblings Jason had ever observed, including his relationship with his own sister, Thalia. Could that all have been a front?
When Jason thought about it, Bianca was probably one of the only people he'd ever seen Nico actually speak with. As far as he knew, they were the best of friends. They sat together at lunch, traveled together between classes, and Jason had even seen Bianca stand up for Nico once against some idiot sophomore bully named Cal.
It was a conundrum all right, but not any of Jason's business. Didn't he have more to worry about than the inconsistencies in a murder that had nothing to do with him?
Still, while he may not have been obsessed with the dirty details like the rest of Manhattan, his curious mind couldn't cease thinking about Nico and Bianca.
He didn't understand what could possibly drive Nico to murder her. Sure, Jason fought with his own sister from time to time, but he would never, not in a million years, do anything to seriously hurt her. And even he and Thalia weren't as close as Nico had been with Bianca, which only spurred a whole mess of questions.
How could Nico do it?
Why would he do it?
Did he really do it?
Who else could have?
Jason had probably read a few too many murder mystery novels...
The madness hadn't ceased one bit, in fact, it only got worse as time wore on. The longer Nico stayed missing, the more New Yorkers salivated over the story. Students at Goode High School all had a theory of their own, ranging from Nico joining the mafia, to Nico moving to Africa and becoming a missionary, to alien abduction. As time stretched on and Nico didn't turn up anywhere, the gossip got wilder and wilder. One senior girl, Silena Beauregard, swore she saw a girl that looked just like Nico and was now convinced that he changed genders to avoid being found. Connor Stoll heard that Nico ran away with the circus. Clarisse La Rue came up with the idea that Nico must be shacking up with some shady older drug lord in the Bronx.
Personally, Jason wasn't totally sure if Nico was even still alive. Murderer or not, New York was hardly a safe place for a teenage boy to be all on his own. And if Nico was still alive, Jason had a feeling he wasn't hanging around the city. Probably the boy, if truly alive, was in Mexico by now if not further. It was highly unlikely that Nico walked around town in a dress and high heels, contrary to Silena's belief.
How long it would take them to find Nico, or Nico's body, or anything really that could put the case to rest? He didn't know how many more reporters he could take crowding around outside his school and trying to shove cameras and microphones in his face. For God's sake, Jason had barely even known the kid!
Not that he was unsympathetic about the whole situation, but it really was getting old after seventeen days. Jason just wanted the whole thing to be over. He chucked the newspaper to the side.
"I won't be home until late tonight," Jason's mother informed him upon entering the kitchen, her personal way of telling him good morning.
Surprise surprise, Jason thought to himself, letting out a heavy breath. "How late is late?" He was playing the parent, like always.
His mother shrugged. "I'll be back before you have to go to school," she assured him, already smelling faintly of cigarette smoke and less faintly of alcohol. The teenager checked his watch—his father's watch, actually—and let out another breath. Not even seven thirty in the morning and his mom was already buzzed.
"Please don't bring anyone home with you this time, I don't like when you bring guys around here," Jason said, rubbing his temples.
"Whatever you say, Mom," she teased, rolling her eyes at her son. Mrs. Grace scooped up a muffin—Jason had made breakfast, again—and then left the kitchen, probably to spend the better part of the day in her room.
No, Jason's mom did not work a nightshift at the hospital, if that wasn't clear. In less, of course, "hospital" was code for every bar south of 57th St.
Things hadn't always been this way with Jason and his mother. Before his father died, their relationship had been great. His family was together, happy even. Everyone was alive. Thalia was still at home. His mother was sober. Sure it hadn't been perfect. Jupiter Grace had unreasonably high expectations and liked to bully his two children when they failed at something, both physically and verbally, but no family is perfect, right? Still, at least they were a family. Then, four years ago, Jason's father's private plane had crashed, killing him and everyone on board. Mr. Jupiter Grace had been an incredibly wealthy businessman while he was alive, and left his family behind an enormous sum of money so they could continue to support themselves without changing anything. Except, things did change. Jason's mom had always been a stay at home mom, but after the plane crash she had evolved into a stay at home drunk instead. Although she was barely at home. A stay at bar drunk, perhaps. She woke up most mornings with a hangover and spent her nights going out, getting even more drunk, and picking up whatever guy she could find. Three years ago, Thalia graduated high school and got accepted into Stanford. She'd tried to take Jason with her, to get him away from their mother, but Mrs. Grace had forbid it. She said she would call the cops if Thalia tried to take her son away. God only knew why, since she hardly seemed to care about him. Nonetheless, Jason stayed behind. He dropped out of extra-curricular activities, no longer caring about football or student council or anything other than getting out of New York. And now, in less than four months, Jason would graduate high school, and then he would finally be able to get away, too. He had sent off his application to Stanford—and every other school at least a thousand miles away from New York—in December and couldn't wait to receive a letter that would take him far, far away.
…
Despite the fact that Jason's father had made sure that both of his children and his wife would have enough money to live the wealthy lifestyle they always had, Jason didn't buy much of anything with the money his father left behind. With the exception of groceries and a few other necessities, the money went untouched. For anything Jason wanted for himself—clothes, shoes, books, music—he used his own money that he earned working at a small bookstore/café a few blocks from where he lived. Delphi Books was usually quiet, and didn't have as big of a selection as the major bookstores in Manhattan, but it had been one of Jason's favorite places for years and his job there was the best part of his day. Chiron, the owner, gave him discounted prices on any books he wanted, and he was given access to as much coffee and hot chocolate from the café as he could drink. Delphi was one of the only places Jason felt truly, blissfully happy.
"Jase, come on! Your shift is after school, not before! We're gonna be late, man!" Leo Valdez, Jason's best friend, hollered. He poked his head through the front door of the small store. A bell chimed above his head as he did, making Chiron turn to the short Latino boy. "Leo, you scare away the customers," he joked, shaking his head.
"What customers?" Leo retorted, stepping completely into the warmth of the store and crossing over to Jason as he pulled a hardcover book straight from a new delivery box.
"Sorry, I'll just be one second. This one just came out today, I've been waiting to get it for months," he exclaimed, heading over to check himself out. Chiron was technically the one working right now, but Jason didn't need his help putting money in the cash register.
"You and your books," Leo sighed.
"Oh shut up," Jason said, smacking his best friend's arm with the newly purchased hardcover. Turning, he called back to his boss, "I'll be here around three-thirty, Chiron!"
"Yeah, see you then," the bookseller replied, waving goodbye to the boys. Jason shivered as he and Leo ventured out into the early February morning. It had been getting consistently colder over the past week. Jason regretted not wearing a heavier coat. The boys still had a fifteen minute walk ahead of them and the sun was buried behind a thick jacket of clouds. At least it wasn't snowing.
"I can't wait to start reading this," Jason said with a smile, admiring the new book in his hands.
"Do I need to give you and the book a minute?" Leo smirked.
The blond glared at him, "If you knew how to read, maybe you'd realize how fun it can be."
"Oh, I know how to read. I've been reading newspaper articles about Mr. Psycho Murderer all week. A lot more interesting than your little ghost story."
"It's not a ghost story, it's a mystery. And Mr. Psycho Murderer has a name you know. God, I hope they catch whoever did it soon. I'm tired of hearing about it all day."
"By whoever you mean Nico, right? Jase, come on, everyone knows he did it. And why are you reading a mystery book when we're all living in one right now? The Disappearing Boy, by Nico di Angelo." That earned Leo an eye roll from Jason. Even his best friend had Nico fever.
"Honestly, everyone is way too interested in this whole Nico thing. Yeah, it's crazy what happened, but when are people going to stop talking about it? Have you heard Silena's theory?"
"Yeah, what a load of crap, right? He obviously escaped into the sewers. If giant alligators can live down there, then so can sociopathic sister killers."
Jason rolled his eyes and chuckled, "I hope you're not serious."
"I hope I'm not serious, too. Then I guess that'd make me just as crazy as di Angelo. Do you know his last name means 'of the angels' in Italian? Talk about ironic, huh?"
"Enough about Nico. We aren't the cops, it's not our job to decide what's happened to him."
"Okay, fine. But if Clarisse turns out to be right about the whole shacking up with a drug lord story, I owe her fifty bucks."
"What kind of an idiot makes fifty dollar bets about the whereabouts of teenage boys they barely know?"
"This guy!" Leo bragged, pointing at his chest with both thumbs.
"Idiot."
"Nerd."
…
When Jason and Leo arrived at school, everything was just as dramatized as it had been every day for weeks. Shrines to Bianca lined the sidewalk in front of the building, even though most of the people who were "mourning" her didn't actually know her at all. Attention seekers still talked to reporters like each one of them knew everything there was to know about the di Angelo siblings.
What was Bianca's favorite color?
Oh, I don't know, but I'm so sad she's gone. We were practically sisters!
Jason rolled his eyes. He only knew of two people in the whole school that had actually been friendly and interacted with the di Angelos. Percy Jackson and Hazel Levesque. They weren't friends, exactly. Maybe somewhat with Bianca, but not quite with Nico. Still, they had at least talked to him, something that probably 99% of the school couldn't say. Even before Nico was a murder suspect, he had always been a bit of a creepy kid. Percy and Hazel didn't seem to mind though. Last year in art, Jason watched Hazel make conversation with Nico and sometimes noticed Percy walk with him to lunch.
And yet, these were also two of the few students who had refused to say a single thing to reporters. They'd been extremely quiet lately, grieving in private. Jason didn't know much about Hazel or Percy—Hazel was a sophomore and Percy spent most of his time with his girlfriend Annabeth—but he respected them. They didn't care if they got noticed, they weren't out seeking attention, or spreading ridiculous rumors about why Nico killed Bianca or where Nico could be now, and they were the exact opposite of most of the other kids at Goode.
"Earth to Jase?" A female voice lulled. Fingers appeared in front of Jason and snapped in his face, yanking him back to the present.
Less than an arm's length away from him was Jason's other best friend, Piper McLean. Piper and Jason hadn't grown up together like Jason and Leo, but they'd been great friends ever since she and her father moved to New York from Los Angeles in seventh grade. Things had taken a slightly awkward turn for them freshman year, when they'd given dating a shot, but since then they'd managed to regain their previous friendship. Piper was a special girl. She didn't try to impress people, even though she was more than capable of doing so. Piper was also one of the most beautiful girls Jason had ever known, but unlike other beautiful girls, she didn't let her looks affect the way she acted. She was down to earth, fun, friendly, and loyal. Jason used to wish that he could be attracted to her. That he could really commit to being in a relationship with her. Piper was the perfect girl for Jason, she really was . . . there was just one issue.
Jason wasn't interested in finding the perfect girl. Dating Piper had helped him finally come to terms with his sexuality. Oh, and making out with a gorgeous guy at a party had helped.
"Hey Pipes! What's up?"
"I could ask you the same question, space cadet. What were you thinking about so intently in there?" She knocked twice on Jason's head and laughed.
"Knowing Jason, probably that stupid new book he's holding," Leo teased, nudging his friend.
"Leo, don't call his book stupid. There is nothing wrong with reading for fun," Piper chided.
"Well, there's not much right with it either," joked Leo.
"It's okay, Pipes. Leo here is just jealous because he can barely make it through a picture book without getting confused," Jason smirked.
"Fuck off," Leo elbowed him. "If we were building things I could kick your ass any day. I have more useful things to do with my time than read dumbass mystery books."
"Language, Leo," Piper said.
"Fuck fuck fuck," sang the Latino boy, "Sue me."
"My dad had a great lawyer, maybe I'll take you up on that, Valdez."
At the top of the school steps stood a girl in a soft-looking white jacket and dark jeans. Her cinnamon colored hair framed her face with loose curls. When Leo noticed her, a grin spread across his lips. "Sue me later, Pipes. I'm gonna go mess with Calypso."
"Leave the girl alone, Leo," Piper said for probably the thousandth time.
"But she's so fun to mess with. And hot. Hot and fun to mess with is my type."
"I'm pretty sure loud and obnoxious isn't hers," Jason muttered.
"Oh whatever, go find some boy to make out with and leave me alone," Leo growled, leaving Jason and Piper and heading off toward Calypso, the girl he'd been tirelessly flirting with since the beginning of junior year.
Jason knew his face was red, and not from the cold. Leo had been harassing him about getting a boyfriend ever since Jason came out as gay. He wasn't ashamed of his sexuality at all, but if his straight best friend kept trying to play wingman, Jason was going to die of humiliation. Despite his persona of confidence and his apparent "golden boy" looks, Jason didn't exactly have much dating experience, especially not with boys. And he really wished Leo would stop pointing that out. Jason had never the type to go out digging for a relationship, and he didn't intend to start now.
"You know he just says that to mess with you," Piper said, nudging him with her shoulder as they passed through the doors and into the warmth of the school.
"Yeah, I know," Jason replied. "Well, I gotta get to stats, see you in English."
"See you then."
…
Jason spent his first four classes of the day—AP statistics, study hall, AP English, and mythology—reading under his desk. He already knew most of the crap his teachers were talking about anyway. Jason was of the belief that everything useful that students needed to learn in high school was taught long before the last semester of senior year.
Lunch was another version of the last two weeks' worth of lunches. Kids going around and gossiping about what appeared to be the only thing they knew how to talk about: Nico. Rachel Dare, a girl in Jason's seventh period drawing class, stopped by their table to ask Piper about some assignment for music history, all the while relaying a story she'd heard during second period that Katie Gardner, head of the recycling club, wanted to build a memorial garden for Bianca on the roof of the school (because where else can one plant a garden in Manhattan?)
While passing by Jason's table, Octavian Solace told Drew Tanaka that his lawyer father was sure that once caught, Nico would spend life in prison. Drew replied that he was probably lying dead under a bridge and it was only a matter of time before they found him. Jason, however, was more fascinated with the mystery in his book than the rumors burning through the school, and all of Manhattan, for that matter. Whether Nico really did kill Bianca or not, Jason just wished the matter could be solved and things could go back to a level of semi-normality.
"Have you really read over one hundred pages of that thing?" Leo asked, leaning over Jason's shoulder. "You just got it this morning."
Jason shrugged, "It's technically afternoon now."
"Not all of us read at a fourth grade level, Leo," Piper reminded.
Leo narrowed his eyes at her, opened his mouth for a witty comeback, and closed it again. Then, after a moment he said, "Hey, I'm ADHD, I can't help it if I don't have the attention span to read long boring books."
"Except, technically, ADHD kids are usually also geniuses."
"I am a technical genius, I don't have time for silly literature," Leo argued.
Jason decided to tune them out.
…
Work was easy that night. Not many people were in the mood to buy books, so Jason just helped Chiron unpack boxes and cleaned off the counters in the café. Annabeth Chase, Chiron's only other employee (a part timer, just like Jason) sat at the cash register and read a book. Jason may have gotten good grades in school, but he had nothing on Annabeth. She was easily the smartest girl in the grade. In fact, she'd read War and Peace in the third grade for a little "light reading" as she'd called it.
It wasn't necessary for both of them to work the same shift, as the store was especially empty during the week, but Jason suspected Chiron liked the company.
When Jason finished wiping down the café counters, he headed over to the register to talk to Annabeth. He wanted to read more of his book, but Jason was also curious how her boyfriend, Percy Jackson, was doing.
"Hey, Annabeth. What's up?"
She lifted her gray eyes from the pages of the novel she was reading to study Jason. "Not much," she replied, "Just reading." She tapped her finger against the book's hardcover.
"What book?" Jason asked, leaning in.
"Oh, the Quran. Learning about other religions fascinates me."
Jason blinked, trying to take that in. He read to forget about the real world, Annabeth read to get smarter, probably so she could take over the real world one day. He didn't doubt her ability to do it, either.
"Wow. That's cool."
Annabeth smiled, reaching for a loose scrap of paper and folding it into a bookmark. She closed the Quran and set it aside. "You need help with something or…?" She let the question hang there.
"No, not really."
"Okay," she picked the book back up and returned to reading.
"Wait," Jason blurted.
"Yes?" Annabeth raised an eyebrow at him.
"Do you think he did it?"
"What?"
"Nico," Jason clarified. "Do you think he really killed Bianca?"
He certainly hadn't meant to ask the question, but it came out nonetheless. Apparently even Jason was a little bothered by the case, whether or not he cared to admit it.
It wasn't so much that he cared about Nico's whereabouts, or the drama surrounding his school and the family, there was just something that felt… wrong. Like the whole situation was a little off kilter. Perhaps that was simply all of the crime thrillers Jason liked to read talking, he wasn't sure…
Hadn't he decided this morning that he didn't give a crap?
Annabeth stared at Jason for a moment, studying him, and then sighed, closing the book once more. "I—I don't know. I'd like to think he didn't. I mean, he seemed like a really sad guy, ya know? Percy always talked about wishing he could help him, although I have no idea how he planned to do it. He doesn't think Nico did it. But, I don't know. Percy's a good judge of character, but he also lacks the ability to look at things from an emotionless standpoint. He's not objective. So much evidence says that Nico did it, and he's not even around to defend himself. But Percy—Percy wants to believe that Nico is innocent. As for me, I don't know. I can't just ignore the facts like he can. I guess I don't have the same faith in people that he does. All I know is that Bianca was Nico's sister, and he really cared about her. Looked up to her. And yet, his fingerprints are on the knife that killed her. That's hard to ignore."
Jason nodded. "I understand."
"Why do you want to know? I thought you were different from all the other over-curious kids in school."
"I am," Jason defended. "Well, I hope I am. I just—I don't know. I wonder about it sometimes. I have an older sister too, and I just wonder how anyone could kill their own sibling. I can't believe that anyone could. But, I didn't really know him at all. And I knew that Percy knew him, so I guess I wanted your opinion on it all."
"My opinion is that everyone at school should stop acting like this is some exciting episode of a crime show. Someone died. And then there's all the ridiculous rumors going around. I don't really want to talk about it, okay? Let me read."
Jason, feeling sort of like he'd just been lectured by his mother—if his mother was an actual mother and not a drunk—nodded and left Annabeth to her book.
…
"Could you close up tonight, Jason?" Chiron asked around eight o'clock. "An old college buddy of mine is in New York until the end of the week and he wants to meet up tonight."
Annabeth had already left, and Jason's shift was technically about to end, too, but it wasn't like Jason was eager to get home. His mother was probably already on her way to the bar. "Sure," Jason complied, figuring he could probably just work on some homework and read for the next hour without many customers coming through. "I'd be happy to."
A few minutes later, Chiron left and then Jason was all by himself, which he rather liked. Unlike some of his friends, Jason didn't constantly feel the need to be around others. It was refreshing to not have to force on a smile because people were watching. He could be himself when he was alone, no facades. No one expecting him to be anything spectacular. Jason could just be Jason, and that was enough.
Jason wanted to build a home out of books and sleep between their pages. He wanted to erase the real world and immerse himself completely in fictional universes where happy endings and true love and magic were reality. Where fantasy was real, and the real world was the fantasy. It was easier to focus on the problems of fictional characters than to think about his dead father, his barely present mother, how much he missed his sister.
Thalia. She was the one who taught Jason to love reading. When Jason was younger, Thalia would read to him, and then pass down books to him that she believed he would like. And he liked all of them. He would devour each new story, laughing and hurting along with the characters. But it wasn't until she left that he really understood the magic of books. Only when he felt utterly alone did he realize that books could be a crutch, that they could keep him from tripping and falling into oblivion. When things got bad, his mom turned to alcohol. Jason turned to books.
Jason felt that his method was better.
Only two customers came into the store. One older woman who purchased a cookbook and a middle aged man who got a couple historical fiction novels. Other than that, Jason was free to do whatever he pleased. Which, unsurprisingly, led to Jason reading more of his book.
At exactly nine o'clock, he began to close up. "Goodnight books," he chuckled to himself as he locked the front door. The day had been cold, but the night was even colder. The icy wind tore right through Jason's jacket. He really should have checked the weather before he left for school that morning. Now, he was facing a ten minute walk until he would be out of the winter chill.
Actually, twenty minutes, Jason amended, realizing that there was most likely nothing to eat at the apartment. He'd have to stop at the store and pick up some food. He should have just grabbed something from the small café at Delphi.
Oh well, he thought. Jason turned left at the corner, rather than right, and began to make his way toward the nearest grocery store. Some teenagers would be frightened to roam the streets of New York at night, especially all alone, but Jason had been doing it for years. New York was his home, his playground, it didn't scare him. If he kept his head down, no one bothered him. And if they did, well… Jason had taken martial arts for seven years and played football for eight, only stopping when Thalia left and sports ceased to matter.
It was because of this confidence that Jason felt no hesitance about taking a shortcut to the store through several different back alleys. All he could think about was getting out of the cold faster.
And then he saw the body.
At first, Jason could barely believe his eyes. Surely that curled up thing not fifteen feet in front of him was something else. A sleeping dog, perhaps. A very large dog, without fur.
But then he heard the groan of pain, all too human, and ran towards it. Even in the extreme darkness, Jason could tell that the person had taken a serious beating. The way it was curled into itself, the dark liquid smearing its hands that had to have been blood. Jason crouched down, unsure of whether to touch it or say something or call for help.
The person, definitely a boy, but not an awfully big one, groaned in pain once more. His bloodied hands covering his face.
"Just hold on, I'll call an ambulance," Jason said, rising to his feet and digging in his pocket for his cell phone.
"No, no," the boy muttered. A hand lashed out and fingers wrapped around Jason's wrist, leaving behind a smear of blood."No ambulance, I'm fine." The voice was weak, more of a groan than anything, but still vaguely familiar to Jason.
And then he looked down. A split lip, a bloodied face, an already swelling eye, but even in the darkness of the alley, Jason recognized him. How could he not? His face had been everywhere for over two weeks.
Nico di Angelo.