Convicted (49 page)
Claire smiled, “Yes, Madeline, thank you, but please, no food...I’m not hungry.”
“No, Madame el, you must eat. I’ll bring you muffins and fresh fruit.”
Claire shook her head—arguing would be pointless. She settled into the cushioned lounge chair, elevated her feet, turned on her iPad, and waited for the daily news to load. It wasn’t the first story to appear on her homepage, but her own picture immediately caught Claire’s attention. She clicked and read the title:
Family Files Charges against Iowa City Police Department, Prosecutor, and Anthony Rawlings.
Shaking her head, Claire read:
Associated Press—
John and Emily Vandersol have filed formal charges against the Iowa City Police Department, Marcus Evergreen, I.C. Prosecutor, and Anthony Rawlings (in absentia).
Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol have requested a hearing based on evidence discovered at the home of Anthony Rawlings. The request states the evidence, currently undisclosed, is sufficient to establish probable cause against Anthony Rawlings. The Vandersols also charge Mr. Rawlings with extortion. “Anyone else would be sitting in jail. It’s only because of his wealth and influence that ICPD and Mr. Evergreen have not filed charges. Their delay is corruption.” (Another of the many charges listed). The Vandersols claim the prosecutor and police department worked together to protect Anthony Rawlings. In doing so, the ICPD jeopardized the investigation of Ms. Claire Nichols’ disappearance. Mrs. Vandersol also charged Mr. Rawlings (in absentia) with the disappearance and possible death of her unborn niece or nephew.
Claire’s hand rubbed her very large midsection. Now in her thirty-fifth week, she smiled, knowing that no harm had come to her unborn child. She honestly didn’t believe that would be the case if she’d remained at Catherine’s disposal. She continued reading:
Ms. Nichols was last seen September 4, 2013. Mr. Anthony Rawlings disappeared after his private plane made an emergency landing in the Appalachian Mountains, September 21, 2013. The FBI will not confirm or deny the survival of Mr. Rawlings following this incident. The FBI refused additional comments claiming an ongoing investigation. Currently, no charges have been filed.
Rawlings Industries is currently operating with a temporary CEO and the same Board of Directors. It has been speculated that the pending charges will force the SEC to investigate Rawlings Industries. Since September the share price has dropped from $142.37 to $86.84 at last call.
Despite her reading material, when Claire realized she’d eaten all of Madeline’s food, a smile appeared on her face. Madeline’s voice came above the sound of surf. “Madame el, may I get you more tea or perhaps some water?”
“Madeline, I’d love some water. It’s getting hotter by the minute.”
“Then perhaps you should be in the water?” Her husband’s rich, husky voice came from behind. She couldn’t see the handsome source, yet instantaneously her neck tensed and goose bumps appeared on her arms and legs. It amazed Claire how something as benign as a voice could continue to incite such a visceral response.
Madeline saw Claire’s reaction and laughed, which in turn, made Claire giggle. Claire loved Madeline’s laugh, so deep and rich, just like her voice. “Madame el, I will bring you some water, and Monsieur?”
“Madeline, I’d like some coffee, please.” Tony bowed toward the woman.
Laughing at his gesture, Madeline replied, “Why, of course. I’ll bring it out soon.” With that, she disappeared, leaving the lady and gentleman of the house alone.
Tony reached for Claire’s shoulders and gently massaged. Closing her eyes, she sighed momentarily lost in his touch. His lips unexpectedly met her exposed neck, causing goose bumps to erupt up and down her arms and legs. His baritone voice brought her back to reality. “My dear, your shoulders are tense. You saw it, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
He nuzzled her neck. “I had hoped to make it home before you did.”
“Because”—she paused—“you wanted to stop me from seeing it?”
Still massaging her shoulders, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “No, I wanted to be here, while you read it.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “I just wish John and Emily would back off—it’s hurting Rawlings Industries.”
“We’ll be alright.”
She inhaled. “I know. I understand their ignorance is best, but I can still wish for Iowa.”
He came around in front of her, sat on the lounge chair near her tanned, shapely legs and caressed the silky skin of her thighs. “We’ll get there again—I promise. First, we have a little one who needs to join us.”
Claire reached for his hand. “It’s getting closer every day.” She placed his hand on her hard midsection.
“Why is it so hard?”
“I think it’s one of those contractions, not the real ones—Braxton hicks. Remember Dr. Gilbert told us about them? They’re happening with more regularity.”
“Do they hurt?”
Claire loved the concern in his voice. “No. They just feel strange.”
“How will you know when they’re real?”
She shrugged. “From everything I’ve read—I’ll know when they are real.”
His lips engaged hers. It wasn’t the fervent passion they were known to share. Instead, Claire felt reassured that Tony would be by her side as they welcomed their child into the world. He removed his shirt, revealing his tanned abs, swim trunks, and a mixture of dark and white chest hair. Finally, he found his voice. “Are you up for a swim?”
She smiled. “I just ate. Aren’t I supposed to wait for a half an hour?”
“I promise to keep you from drowning.”
His devilish grin captivated her once again, rendering her defenseless to his desires. With a smirk, she replied, “I think I should’ve learned a long time ago not to trust you.”
He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. His tone held a hint of amusement as he leaned toward her. “I should’ve learned—I’m helpless to your beautiful emerald eyes.” Her fingers threaded through the curls on his chest as her gaze lingered on his chocolate eyes.
In the pool, Claire held tightly to Tony’s shoulders relishing the coolness of the water. Her thoughts went back to the article and her sister and brother-in-law. “I’m so sorry about John and Emily—I hate what they’re doing to Rawlings Industries.”
“I’ve been watching it too. It seems to me that Tim is doing an excellent job of building confidence in Rawlings Industries from within. He needs that inside support to get the support outside the company. I’ve always had a good feeling about him.”
“I remember you telling me that, a million years ago, when we went to the Simmons’ barbeque.”
Tony laughed. “That was a million years ago, wasn’t it?”
Laying her head against his shoulder, she nodded. “It sure seems like it. Is there any new information from Phil or Agent Jackson?”
“Well,” he hesitated, causing Claire to look up. Although she couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, from his secretive smile she knew he was up to something.
“What?”
“Phil said he’s been released from his current job. He doesn’t believe Sophia’s in any danger. Catherine has worked very hard to introduce and include herself into Sophia’s life.”
“Then I’d say she’s in danger.” Claire added quickly, “but not enough for you to go protect her. I need you here.”
“Yes, you do. You may be pleased to learn who else will be here; let’s say for your Christmas present.”
Closing her eyes, Claire sighed. “A little Claire or a little Tony would be the best present. I’ve loved most of this—it’s just lately, I’m so tired and uncomfortable.”
“We really do need to pin down some names. I’m not comfortable with either a little me or a little you”—He smirked—“You see, I really like the big you, and when I think of the name
Claire
, the feelings that ensue are totally inappropriate for my daughter.”
“Big?”
Laughing—“You know what I mean. Now first—back to your Christmas present.”
“Yes?”
“Well, it won’t be the exact one. Phil can’t exactly ask Catherine to go through our bedroom, but he did see your wedding band. After all, he’s the one who bought it back and brought it to me.”
Claire’s voice perked up. “You’re getting me a wedding band for Christmas?”
“More than that, Phil will be here in less than a week to deliver it. I thought you might enjoy company, and since he’s the only one we can have, my choices were limited.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love it! Thank you.” Then she realized. “But wait, what can I get
you
for Christmas?”
Kissing her lips, he said, “I’m not picky. A girl—or a boy—would be fine.”
“I’m not due until the second week of January. Will you take your gift late?”
“Only under one stipulation.”
“So, now there are stipulations on gifts?”
“Yes, my dear, and before you start with that beautiful, smart mouth of yours, let me say that this one isn’t debatable. I must insist upon it.”
She shrugged. “Rather demanding, but I guess I’m used to it—what do you want?”
“That nothing happens to you while my gift arrives. I’ve read a few things too. I thought maybe if Phil were here, if we need anything, well, the man is very resourceful.”
“I’ll be fine”—she kissed his cheek—“but I love that you’re concerned.”
“My dear,
you
are my only concern.”
Claire felt the tightening sensation once again. “Oh, I think someone else wants to be your concern, too.”
Truth, like gold, is to be obtained not by its growth, but by washing away from it all that is not gold.
—Count Leo Tolstoy
September 13, 2016
Last night, I was too shocked to write. I had to think about what happened, mull it over, and figure it out. By the time I got Claire back to the facility, she was no longer speaking. I don’t understand. She was still hearing me; every now and then her eyes would register and lock onto mine. Then she’d look away.
I’ve decided she gave me a test. She knows that I know her story. Her recognition of her surroundings is new; it didn’t exist last month, week, or even a day ago. If she isn’t ready to share this revelation with others, I guess it isn’t my place to divulge it. I just hate that I won’t be around to help her move beyond this milestone.
I’m off to my last day. I’ve decided that I owe it to Claire to allow Emily to fire me. My husband reminded me last night that I’ve been in violation of their restraining order. I’d actually forgotten that—which is in a way comical. This whole exercise has morphed through so many phases—curiosity—investigative reporting—recognition of guilt—and finally, a deep agonizing friendship. No one will believe that I’d given up the reporting, to help Claire. At least, as I sit in jail, I’ll know the truth.
Claire paced the trek she’d created next to her bed. Since she’d found her voice last night, she was anxious to use it. Yes, she considered speaking to some of the other people, but she was afraid. There were so many things she couldn’t recall, so many voids, and so many things that didn’t make sense. It was painfully obvious; this
facility—
as Meredith called it—was a
mental
facility. She had recollections of discussions about that. Each day, more memories surfaced. Some were clearer than others. She remembered Tony telling her that the offer of a mental facility was to protect her.
Was that why she was here? Was she being protected?
That’s why she needed to talk with Meredith. Claire’s speed increased as she walked exactly six steps one way, turned, and stepped six paces the other way. She didn’t mean to count, but behind her thoughts, concerns, questions, she heard the numbers:
one, two, three, four, five, six—turn—one, two...
There wasn’t a clock in the drab room. As she truly looked around—there was nothing. No pictures, no personal items, nothing that gave the room her personality. Claire wondered how long she’d been there...
two, three, four, five, six—turn
...
The only indication of time was the gray in her hair, and what did that tell her?
...
five, six—turn—one
...