Convicted (16 page)

“Oh, Mr. Rawlings, we both know it’s more than that, and when the evidence presents itself, I know of more than one agent who’s looking forward to contacting you, via your phone.”

Tony tried to make sense of the agent’s innuendos; his mind swirled with possibilities. While he debated his response, Agent Jackson added, “Rest assured, when it comes to our own—we never forget, and we never stop. No case is ever too old or trail too cold.”

“Agent Jackson, I seriously have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

“Of course not, Mr. Rawlings. That seems to be a reoccurring theme with you. Perhaps, while abroad, you should look into treatment for your memory issues.”

Tony’s jaw clenched. Fighting with the man who was presenting him with temporary freedom would be counterproductive; nevertheless, the displeasure rang clear in his voice. “I
don’t
have
memory issues
, Agent. I’m sure we’ll be talking again.”

“Yes, I’m sure we will—soon.”

Tony knew that his current paradigm was his own doing. He could’ve taken the bureau’s credit cards and identity and maintained a better standard of living than he was currently enduring, but he wasn’t willing to play by their rules—he had his own rules.

Before Tony left the clandestine meeting with Agent Jackson, he made one request. Tony asked that Brent
not
be informed of this new reality. It was one of the few unselfish moves Tony had ever made for Brent. It was strange how, when faced with the possibility of never seeing him again, Tony finally saw the friend Brent had been. This non-disclosure was a gift. If things turned out badly, and if undisclosed truths became evident, then Tony didn’t want Brent suffering the consequences. Agent Jackson promised to continue the ruse.

With his newly-issued government identity, Tony made it to the airport with a ticket in hand. After passing security, he slipped from the terminal, and with a newly purchased phone, he contacted the only man Tony knew, without a doubt, would respond. He didn’t consider it breaking the FBI’s rules—Tony considered it playing by his own rules—the way he’d always lived his life.

Tony’s requests to Eric were simple: money from the safe—not enough to raise suspicion—the key to the safety deposit box, and his alternative identifications. In case Eric was being tracked, Tony told him to also use alternative identification. As Tony predicted, Eric didn’t question Tony’s directives or motives—he never had.

Tony did keep the FBI issued phone—for a little while. After purchasing an international disposable phone—with the government given credit card—he texted the new number to the only contact listed within the FBI phone. Tony knew too well that phones could be tracked, and he was pretty confident the phone he’d been given was a constant beep on someone’s radar. Leaving the phone in a bathroom in New York State, that beep would now remain stagnant. As Eric drove him across the U.S. border into Canada, Tony received a text:

“WE’LL ASSUME THIS IS OUR NEW CONTACT NUMBER?”

Tony grinned—they’d given him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He’d replied with a statement of non-compliance. Their cooperation within his parameters wasn’t a win, but it was something. Right now, Tony would take that. With a grin, he replied:

“YES”
and hit
SEND

The cover story—the small plane’s emergency landing in the mountains—was completely fabricated by the authorities. Tony didn’t even know he’d supposedly chartered a plane, or that it landed unexpectedly until he heard the news. The length the FBI was willing to go for this case proved to him that it was something much bigger than it appeared. Like an iceberg, Tony believed he’d only been allowed to see a small portion. As far as he was concerned, that was fine. They’d created a cover story, which allowed him to do the one thing he wanted to do. He was now free to assess the table, determine the odds, and decide—for himself—what cards he should play. He was free to search for Claire.

Flying from Montreal to Brnik, Slovenia, Tony then took buses and trains in a non-direct route toward Geneva. Before he could start his full-out search for his ex-wife, Tony needed money. The days ran together as they were filled with cheap transportation and accommodations. Every nonstrategic thought was dominated by Claire and their child. During the course of his exodus, Tony concluded her disappearance was somehow related to the gifts and letters they’d received on the estate. Although the thought hadn’t occurred to him before, Tony found it interesting that the mailings stopped after her disappearance. Tony hoped and prayed that if Claire were truly running
of her own free will,
that she was ahead of—not with—the asshole who’d sent the threatening packages and tried to run her and Clay off the road. As his thoughts ran together, Tony also worried about her finances. He didn’t want Claire and his child living in conditions like he was enduring. Hundreds of times a day, he’d question why.
Did she plan to leave and if she did, why would she do so without money?
As much as he wanted her safe, Tony couldn’t wrap his mind around her being alive and talking to the FBI. None of it made sense.

As he planned his return to financial freedom, Tony felt a trace of guilt. It was true, he’d always been the one to move and invest the money, but truthfully, half of it belonged to Catherine. Tony knew Nathaniel entrusted him to take care of her. Taking this money without disclosure seemed wrong; nevertheless, he reminded himself, half did belong to him. Catherine was safe in Iowa, sleeping in
his
house with access to more of
his
money. Honestly, the feeling of guilt didn’t last long.

His indirect trail to Geneva was planned and plotted. He had enough cash to lay low and watch things unfold. He wasn’t using the federal credit card; it was too obviously a means to track him. Tony was listening to his instincts—they’d served him well in the past. Throughout his life, he’d accomplished many goals. Those goals took time and patience, and without exception, they were all done
his
way. His extremely high rate of success was proof of his own abilities. Tony didn’t see a reason to change his strategy. Despite the FBI’s directives, this endeavor would be on his terms, and his terms alone.

The financial institution in Geneva was his ace-in-the-hole, one of the cards he didn’t reveal. With his current plan, the institution wouldn’t be reached for at least another week. He’d love to move faster; however, perseverance was essential to his plan. His profile was low; he maintained anonymity, even if it was with his own false identity and not the one provided for him. He was also doing what he said—traveling. After his financial reserves were accessed, he’d continue to travel; however, at that time, his goal would be to find Claire. The money would make all of it more tolerable.

With Agent Jackson’s words replaying in his mind, Tony vowed that after he had his money and located his family, he’d learn more about Agent Jackson’s innuendos.
What did the FBI know or think they knew? What was meant by ‘one of our own?’
Though he was a master at multitasking, his current situation required his full attention. Tony pushed the agent’s words away—he had more pressing matters consuming his thoughts.

Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning
.

—Albert Einstein

Meredith’s Journal:

June 24, 2016

Finally! It’s been almost two weeks since Claire collapsed in the cafeteria. Since I don’t have clearance to go anywhere except the cafeteria and kitchen, I haven’t been able to learn anything about her progress. That was until today; it was after the lunch, before dinner that a few patients and visitors were sitting in the dining room, talking when I noticed Claire and Emily enter the dining room. They were traveling that same path from the outside toward the residential wing.

I only glanced momentarily; Emily was scanning the room with her eagle eyes! Damn, that woman is suspicious of her own shadow! I turned away just as she looked in my direction. Good thing! If she’d recognized me, then it would have made the last three weeks a complete waste of time.

It was after I turned away that I received my first tidbit of information. At the time, I was delivering coffee to Ms. Juewelz and her visitor who’d left the room for a few minutes. Ms. Juewelz has been at Everwood on and off for years. I’m not sure of her exact diagnosis, but if gossiping were a possibility, I’d put my money on that! Even in my short time getting to know some of the residents, I’ve realized that Ms. Juewelz seems to have her finger on the pulse of Everwood.

“Can I get you any cream or sweetener?” Meredith asked, as she placed the ceramic mugs on the table.

Ms. Juewelz spoke, her voice barely a whisper, “You’re smart to turn away from that woman. She’d probably have you fired if she thought you were looking at them.” At first, Meredith wasn’t registering Ms. Juewelz’ words; it wasn’t uncommon for some of the residents to speak about something completely off base from what was said to them.

Keeping her eyes diverted, Meredith watched Emily lead Claire hurriedly along the edge of the dining room. Neither woman seemed to be talking. She tried to read Claire’s expression; however, all she noticed were Claire’s eyes remaining downcast, avoiding everything as she walked with her arm linked in the crook of her sister’s elbow. Refocusing on Ms. Juewelz, Meredith asked, “Why, who is she?”

“She was the wife of that rich guy—but no one can say his name. That woman with her is her sister. She’s super protective, but it’s a pain in the ass! I mean, everyone here deserves confidentiality, but that woman has that poor lady so isolated she’ll never see the outside again.”

It was then Ms. Juewelz’ guest returned to the table. “Aunt Juewelz, you aren’t talk’n about people you’re not supposed to, are you?”

Looking her niece straight in the eye, Ms. Juewelz replied, “Who me? Can’t believe a word I say. I’m crazy, you know!”

Her niece reached over and covered Ms. Juewelz’ hand with hers. Looking straight into her eyes, she said, “I think you’re the sanest person I know, Aunt Juewelz.”

Ms. Juewelz laughed. “Honey, you need to meet more people!”

Meredith walked away, contemplating Ms. Juewelz’ information. Her words broke Meredith’s heart and hardened her resolve at the same time. One way or the other, Meredith was going to get herself to Claire!

July 7, 2016

I can’t believe how tired I am at the end of my days at Everwood. It isn’t mentally tiring; it’s physically draining. I’ve never cleaned so many tables or picked up so many dishes in my life, but I think it’s about to pay off! After almost a month, I believe that I’ll finally be allowed to deliver meals to patients’ rooms. Tomorrow, I have a meeting with Ms. Bali, my supervisor. She said we need to discuss the “parameters of increasing my job duties”. I have to give the whole facility credit; they don’t allow just anyone to interact with the patients. Considering the amount of money these people spend for their treatment, I guess it’s a good thing Everwood makes sure that everyone’s following their rules. I’d write more, but honestly, I’m exhausted. I’ll write more tomorrow.

July 8, 2016

I did it! I’ve been “promoted”! I’m calling it that, but there’s no increase in pay, only an increase in clearance. I think the stories I’ve recently been telling about caring for my ill grandmother helped me get this additional duty.

Starting next week, I’ll be part of the residential room rotation. There are six women who eat all their meals in their rooms. Ms. Bali took me around to each of their rooms today, and I met three of them. The other three, including Claire, weren’t in their rooms. Before we went from room to room, I was shown how to review the ICP on each patient. That’s their “Individualized Care Plan”. I hadn’t been able to access more than the generic information before, but now I have a code where I can see specifics. Most ICPs include food allergies, likes, and dislikes.

Claire’s Food ICP was very specific, with certain rules spelled out:

Ms. Nichols will have three meals delivered each day. Upon delivery, attendants will assess Ms. Nichols’ ability to eat unassisted. If she engages, leave food and return to remove tray in thirty minutes. If she doesn’t engage, direct her to her table and explain your actions as you assist in feeding her.

Talking is recommended by Ms. Nichols’ doctors; however, Mrs. Vandersol will not allow any conversation regarding Ms. Nichols’ previous life. Under no circumstance can the name Anthony/Tony Rawlings be mentioned. IF Ms. Nichols brings up this name, staff is to change the subject immediately and notify a supervisor.

Failure to adhere to the set rules will result in immediate dismissal.

I was surprised to see her room. Unlike the other rooms we visited, Claire’s looked generic and sterile. The colors were all pale. She didn’t have any pictures or personal items, other than her clothes and hygiene items. Even the bedspread and window treatments were neutral; there were no bold colors. Since Ms. Bali was with me, I couldn’t look around too much, but I mentioned the starkness in passing.