Claire watched, waiting to see some realization in her friends’ eyes. When she didn’t see it, she answered her own question. “I promise not to poke the stick in the hive until I’m sure my outfit is foolproof. I don’t intend to be stung—again.” Claire was sure she saw sparks of admiration in her friends’ eyes.
Now that she had Tony’s number, Claire needed to work on her beekeeper’s outfit. Until last night, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. California was turning out better than she ever imagined. Honestly, she’d hoped maybe she could start a new life and forget the last three years, but then, the whole paradigm changed; Tony called.
Claire knew in the pit of her stomach, depths of her soul, it would never be over. Tony shared in his box that he’d been watching her since at least the time of her parent’s death. Actually, she wondered if it were true that he’d purposely lured Simon away with the job offer, then he’d been watching her since her freshman year of college. The idea sent a cold shiver down her spine.
Yes, Anthony Rawlings was the one who callously threw her away—left her to be incarcerated for a crime that she never committed; however, she’d thought about his offer multiple times. Before she pleaded no contest to the charges, he offered her another out. He offered her the option to plead insanity. He even had an institution ready to take her in as a patient. If she’d accepted his offer then he’d still to this day, possibly forever, be in control of her life. Somehow, Claire believed Tony expected her to take his offer.
The realization made her grin. Without trying, she’d defied his plans. Feeling a small amount of pride, Claire grasped the unusual feeling. If she could defy Anthony Rawlings out of instinct, instead of intention and survive, then it seemed if she put her mind to it the possibilities were limitless.
Tony would never allow her to exist away from him. Somehow, she needed to remove his power. Hiding from the sound of his voice only strengthened it. Therefore, the opposite would weaken it.
Last night, after returning to the table at the restaurant, Claire announced to her friends that she was ready to continue the work on their quest. She currently had the time, and thanks to Tony, the money. She would accept help, but without a doubt, Tony’s phone call cemented her resolve. Mr. Anthony Rawlings had a lesson to learn, and this time Claire claimed the role as teacher.
Amber and Harry saw her red-blotched face, yet instead of pity or even acknowledgement of her current condition, both friends smiled. Amber got up and hugged Claire. “I hope you know you have my full support and any help I can provide.”
“If you two scorned ladies will allow, I would like to be involved in this quest.” With that, Harry encircled both women in his arms. Their group hug lasted only seconds, but the common goal and support energized Claire beyond any depletion from the phone call.
This morning, she woke with new purpose. Her phone call with Courtney didn’t diminish that purpose; it increased it.
As she dressed for her day, Claire marveled at hearing her ex-husband’s voice again. Twice in two days! Hearing him speak to Courtney, sounding casual and friendly, Claire remembered a time when she worked diligently to keep that tone in his voice. It was refreshing to not concentrate on his feelings, but that of her own.
Claire smiled at herself in the mirror. She liked her chestnut brown hair, jeans, and tennis shoes. She liked wearing very little make-up. From now on, her concerns were going to be her focus!
She’d spent the last fourteen months grasping at straws of self-worth. It was a difficult process, especially while in a federal penitentiary. There were times she wondered if living was worth the effort. Today, she knew it was.
His voice, through her phone, divulged more to her than merely words. Tony had once said she knew him better than anyone. In the pit of her stomach she knew he would seek to find her, and beyond a shadow of a doubt, he’d succeed. Anthony Rawlings rarely, if ever, failed.
This reality fueled her need to suddenly become visible. Her original plan of anonymity was to avoid him. She failed. Being invisible would make her an easy target, no matter his intention. The more visible Claire Nichols was to the world, the harder it’d be to remove her. This, hopefully not too late realization, made her cheeks rise, and a smile radiate beyond her lips to her green eyes.
Honestly, the prospect of seeing him, talking to him, and being near him frightened her. The fear didn’t just stem from his possible actions—but hers. Claire knew she couldn’t predict her own actions, emotions, or responses when the time came to meet him face-to-face. Despite their history, Tony had the ability to manipulate her thoughts and beliefs. Her personal pep talks were all well and good while he remained at large; however, when push came to shove, Claire couldn’t honestly predict her own response.
She reminded herself, unlike three years ago, she now knew the rules and boundaries to his game. Rule number one, there were no boundaries. Anthony Rawlings was capable of anything, and he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, yet even Superman couldn’t overcome kryptonite. Catherine once told Claire that she had the rare opportunity to know Anthony Rawlings as few do. Claire knew his intimate beliefs and knew his kryptonite: appearances!
She also knew without a doubt that he’d be in California. It may be days, weeks, or hell, only hours, but he would step foot on the West Coast. It would happen. Claire needed to be ready, her beekeeper suit intact.
She sat on the tall stool in the kitchen, her laptop open and began to ego surf. Before she could change the perception the world possessed of her, she needed to know what that perception held. The results were nauseating.
Entering ‘CLAIRE NICHOLS RAWLINGS’ into the Google search engine landed her over fifty thousand hits! She began to click and read. Yes, there was factual information: born October 17, 1985, to Jordon and Shirley Nichols. One sister, Emily Nichols Vandersol, married to John Vandersol. Claire graduated from Hamilton Heights High School in Fishers, Indiana, and obtained a Bachelor’s Degree in meteorology from Valparaiso University. She completed a one year internship in Albany, New York, and then worked for WKPZ as a meteorologist assistant in Atlanta, Georgia. After WKPZ was bought, she worked at the Red Wing, a restaurant in Atlanta, until 2010. It’s at that point the history of her life becomes mostly conjecture.
One of the few facts: on December 18, 2010, she married Anthony Rawlings. Claire had read the information before about her being a gold digger; however, the ferocity of the newly found articles surprised her. It was as if some of these reporters were truly hell-bent on righting the wrongs done to Anthony Rawlings.
Claire scrolled numerous articles which made her every sin public knowledge. She read about her changing hair color and shopping habits. There were accurate and inaccurate reports of travels. Thinking that perhaps this was a journey she shouldn’t have taken, she clicked and discovered an unlikely ally—a redeemer of her reputation. The article appeared in Rolling Stone, February 2012, following her arrest, prior to her plea. It was entitled, Mrs. Rawlings, No longer a Mystery—But Seriously a Killer? by Meredith Banks. The article discussed Claire Nichols, the real person, student, sorority sister, daughter: grieving the loss of her parents following their tragic deaths, intern, meteorologist assistant in Atlanta, and bartender. It went on to discuss the impromptu meeting in Chicago, and the unlikelihood of Claire Nichols attempting to murder her husband. Meredith mentioned Claire’s hesitation to discuss her future husband.
Hesitation?! I didn’t discuss him!
Meredith also discussed the obvious: with as much money as Anthony Rawlings possessed, why would Claire want to kill him? She used the travel, shopping, and pampering spas as evidence. Why would Claire want to kill the handsome, generous husband who showered her with luxuries? She had access to all the money she wanted, and Anthony was making more. Meredith concluded that killing him made no sense.
Claire couldn’t help but see the irony, the first and perhaps only, positive and accurate article was written by the same woman who wrote the article eighteen mo
nths earlier which almost cost Claire her life!
Claire opened another page on her laptop and Googled ‘MEREDITH BANKS’, independent correspondent based out of Long Beach, California. The website contained her email and phone number. After a quick check of Google Maps, Claire learned Long Beach was a six and a half hour drive from her current location. She pondered that information. With Tony’s current state of mind, perhaps a four hundred mile drive wasn’t a bad plan.
Claire considered her new option; she could contact Meredith, and she could promise an exclusive interview, but what was she willing to reveal? If she couldn’t look Amber and Harry in the eye and talk about her life as Mrs. Rawlings, was she ready to do it with Meredith?
Off the dining room were two sets of sliding glass doors leading to a courtyard with a small outdoor sitting area and hot tub. Claire eased her way out into the yard and into a chair. Holding her mug of warm French Vanilla latte, she looked up toward the sky. The clouds had parted, revealing patches of blue. She knew the entire disclosure process needed to be well thought-out. Claire reminded herself not to act impulsively or without forethought. Perhaps, as stunning as it seemed, Meredith may be the answer she’d been seeking, yet before she attempted to make contact, Claire needed to be sure of what she intended to share. Her article years ago with Vanity Fair taught her that every question must be thoroughly reviewed and dissected. Each impromptu answer must go through the same scrutiny.
If she planned on informing the world of the truth, she needed to be sure it came across the way she intended. The question looming in Claire’s mind: could she trust Meredith Banks to write that article? Claire truly didn’t know the answer.
White filmy wisps of condensation moved ever so gently across the sky as beams of sunshine continued to win their battle. Tilting her face toward the sun, Claire closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh spring air. The warm rays and warm coffee reminded Claire that no matter her decision, the reality remained, it was her decision.
Suddenly, an old question resurfaced: How did he do it? How did he make her disappear, without anyone questioning her sudden departure? This information seemed incredibly important. She needed to be sure that history would not repeat itself.
Chapter Eight
Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, false naming of real events.
—Adrienne Rich
Claire gripped the phone tighter. “What texts and emails are you talking about?”
“It must’ve been in March, if I remember correctly. March of the year you left Atlanta.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying, Emily. Tony took me away in March, March 17, 2010, and I was at his house on the 20th. I never sent emails or texts.”
“Yes, you did. You sent out emails about a new job possibility. They said how excited you were about it.” Although Emily couldn’t see, Claire shook her head. “Actually, you also sent out emails via Facebook. I remember thinking that you must really be excited.”
“I never sent those. Did you respond?”
“I did, and you replied; then about a week later, you sent a text saying you’re getting a new phone number and would call. As you know, you didn’t call for months, and your old number no longer worked.”
Claire pondered this new information. “I wonder if messages went out to other people?”
“I know John received the same emails and texts. You know, like you did a mass send? And when we didn’t hear from you again for a while, I called your apartment complex. They said you’d moved out and paid to break the lease. They also said something about a new job opportunity, but they couldn’t remember any details.”
“Why didn’t you ever mention this?”
At first, Emily remained silent. When she spoke, it was with a recent recurring sharpness to her tone, “And when do you suppose I should’ve done that? Maybe while your every word was scrutinized or perhaps while my every word was monitored?” Those details, about their conversations during Claire’s marriage, were just recently revealed by Claire. Obviously, Emily still found them upsetting.
“No, Emily. I’m sorry. I know you couldn’t have said anything then, but why wait until now?”
“Well, perhaps I’ve been busy trying to get to know my sister again and oh yeah my husband. Details of your disappearance three years ago, when I thought you just didn’t want me in your life, well, they haven’t been high on my priority list.”
Claire inhaled deeply and exhaled. Emily’s anger was justified. “I want you to know I did not, and would not, just email or text you or John out of my life. If it happens again, please know it isn’t me.”
Emily’s end of the line went silent. She finally responded with distress, not resentment, “Why? Are you seriously afraid it could happen again?”
Claire didn’t hesitate. She no longer wanted to delude her sister. “Yes.”
“I promise, if I can’t get a hold of you, or if I get those kinds of messages, I’ll have the police break down Anthony Rawlings’ door.”
Claire smiled. “Thanks, Sis. Hopefully, that’ll never be necessary. Right now, I’m learning what I can about how he did it last time.”
The two spoke for a while longer. During Claire’s time in Iowa, her calls were not only monitored, but they were also time restricted. The two sisters relished their new lengthy soul revealing conversations. Emily informed Claire that she’d be going to New York during the first week of April to bring John home. With his sentence complete, the condition of his probation required regular interaction with a probationary officer. As long as he did that, he could travel, or live, anywhere within the continental United States.
Due to the charges of fraudulent billing, The New York State Bar Association suspended John’s admission to the bar, disabling him from practicing law. For any chance at redemption, an appeal must be made to the governing body’s disciplinary committee. Emily wasn’t sure what he’d do. She was just happy they’d be together.
Claire wanted to ask to join Emily in New York; however, instinctively she believed her presence was currently unwelcome. She hoped it was only momentary. Besides, Emily and John needed private time.
Amber arrived home to find her dining room table covered in piles of disheveled papers. It was the information Claire saved from Tony’s box, along with new information that both Amber and Harry helped accumulate. Harry’s connection to the Bureau of Investigation and Intelligence was definitely advantageous.
From the box, Claire saved pictures. Looking through the stack, she placed them in chronological order. The first series was from her parent’s funeral. If she hadn’t stared at them for hours, in her cell in Iowa, then the subject would be upsetting. Instead, the circumstance of their existence dominated her thoughts. The photo in her hand was of the grave site. She saw the vibrant autumn trees surrounding the double plot and a seemingly appropriate gray sky. The faraway shot showed Emily with John on one side, and Claire on the other. There were many people behind them. The next one caused Claire’s stomach to churn. It showed a close-up of her, alone—her name handwritten on the back. She recognized the distinguishable writing. She’d seen that same script on many notes throughout her two years with Tony.
She didn’t meet Anthony Rawlings until almost five years after these pictures were taken, yet the looming question remained; did he personally shoot these photos? It added to the mystery. She wished for pictures of the crowd; some way she could scan for his familiar face. Thinking back, Claire remembered news coverage. Her father was a policeman, and even though his death wasn’t in the line of duty, it was considered newsworthy. Suddenly, she wondered if the footage still existed. Working at a television news station, she knew many videos were disposed of after a certain length of time. Nonetheless, if she could watch even a few seconds of the crowd, Claire would find Tony—tall, dark and handsome—if he were present.
The next stack of photos revealed images from Emily and John’s wedding, with the same alarming close-ups of Claire
with her name written on the back in Tony’s handwriting. The sea foam green dress made Claire smile.
She realized if she took these pictures to the police, they didn’t prove Tony’s presence. Of course, he could pay someone to take the pictures, yet Claire was certain a handwriting specialist could verify his handwriting.
The other bit of information Claire retained from Tony’s box of confessions was the Top Secret report. Over the past four months, she’d wondered how he obtained the document. It looked official, containing the Top Secret watermark. Originally, she placed it into the box of information to burn; however, just before leaving her cell, Claire decided to remove it. Looking back, she chastised herself for taking the box to the incinerator at all.
She couldn’t really justify her actions, but only that in that moment, she wanted freedom and separation. Watching the contents burn proved temporarily therapeutic. As the flames enveloped the box and its contents, she felt her life with Tony shrivel into parallel nothingness. At the time, it was cathartic.
In the days and weeks that followed, she realized the error of her ways. With time to meditate, muse, and contemplate her life’s milestones, it seemed that at many junctures she’d acted impulsively. Whether it was refusing to leave Atlanta after the loss of her job, signing a seemingly benign napkin, getting into a car and fleeing Anthony’s estate, or burning a box of confessions, the choices and their consequences continued to return and rear their ugly heads.
The Top Secret report told the true identities of two important players in the downfall of Nathaniel Rawls; securities officer, Jonathon Burke, and FBI agent, Sherman Nichols. It was the glue that held Claire to Tony’s well played plan of revenge.
After contacting Amber, they worked together to regenerate the information that Claire could recall. If only she hadn’t burnt it. Regrets were useless. Their progress thus far was all that mattered.
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 61