She fought the tears that suddenly filled her eyes and nodded.
“Can you do this?” Phil asked.
She swallowed. “I don’t have a choice. Where are we going? Are you taking me back to Iowa City?” There was a hint of optimism in her voice.
“Cincinnati. You’re flying from Cincinnati to Florence later this afternoon.” He turned toward her, and although her gaze was out the side window, Phil could see her trembling shoulders. “We have to stop on the way so you can change your clothes and your hair.” He waited until the silence grew uncomfortable; then continued, “Unless you want to go back to Iowa City?”
Claire felt the movement of her baby inside of her. Her voice quivered, “N-No. This is something I need to do.” She reclined the seat and refused to turn toward Phil. “I think I’d like to rest while we drive to this hotel.” She knew he’d watched her for months. She remembered the note he sent the night Tony came to her hotel in San Diego. She couldn’t let him see the tears which refused to stay behind the Cartier sunglasses. He’d know immediately: Iowa City was her destination of choice.
There were so many things Sophia needed to do at her studio. An exhibit throws everything off kilter. Cassie, the assistant she hired to keep the Cape studio open while she was in California, was supposed to meet her at 9:00 AM. Waking and sleeping at appropriate hours had never been Sophia’s gift. She was better of late, but the exhibit wore her out. When she rolled over and saw the bright Cape Cod sun streaming through her windows, she jumped from bed, knowing she’d overslept.
It was a 9:15 AM before she made her way out the door. Luckily, it wasn’t a long walk to the studio. Derek kept talking about her buying a bigger studio, but honestly, she was happy with the one her parents helped her start. As she closed her front door and breathed in the wonderful salt air, her purse began to vibrate. Immediately, she assumed it was Cassie wondering if she would make their meeting. Glancing at the screen of her phone, Sophia saw an unknown number with the Princeton, New Jersey, prefix. She hit: ANSWER.
“Mrs. Sophia Burke?”
“Yes, this is she.” The bright sunshine faded.
“Ms. Burke, I’m sorry to be making this call, but a blue Camry was discovered this morning. We don’t know the cause of the accident, but we believe both of your parents were discovered within the car. It may have been due to wet leaves. We had a hard rain here last night, or with the year of your parent’s car, it could be an acceleration issue. Their car hit a tree, and the coroner believes they both died instantly. We need you to travel to New Jersey to identify the bodies.”
Sophia collapsed onto the steps of her cottage as the tears grew and sobs formed in her chest. Her mind tried to process. She managed to speak, “Okay, I can do that.”
“Visible identification will be difficult. We were hoping for familiar DNA.”
“I’m sorry. That won’t work. I’m adopted.”
“Are there any other siblings?”
“No, I’m an only child.”
“Perhaps you will be able to identify their belongings.”
“I will be there as soon as I can.” Her mind tried to process everything. “Can you tell me who was driving?”
“It was your father, Mrs. Burke. May I ask why you’re asking?”
“Curiosity, Officer, perhaps shock.”
“I understand. Please ask for me, Officer McPherson, when you arrive.”
“I will. Thank you.” Sophia disconnected the call and called Derek’s international phone.
Although she knew it would be best to claim an acceleration problem or possibly wet leaves as the officer suggested, Sophia knew that wasn’t the cause. Officer McPherson said Pop was driving. Why hadn’t her mom listened? Sophia pleaded with her to take away Pop’s keys. It wasn’t his fault. Not really, yet Sophia knew in her heart, it was. What would she do without them?
The mid-morning sun moved higher as Tony’s private plane touched down in Iowa. After the call from Clay, he cut his European trip short and immediately headed home. If someone tried to push Claire off the road, he needed to be there. Tony tried Claire’s phone again—no answer. He hadn’t been able to reach her since the near accident, even her voicemail wouldn’t activate.
Getting into the car, he tried Catherine’s phone. When the line connected, Tony couldn’t comprehend Catherine’s words. “What do you mean she left yesterday and hasn’t come back? How could she leave without Clay?”
“She said she was tired of the constant surveillance and needed a break.”
“When? Why haven’t you called me or the police?”
Catherine tried to justify her reasoning. “Yesterday evening… I assumed she’d be back. It wasn’t until this morning we realized she never returned. You were in the air; I couldn’t reach you. I haven’t called the police; what was I supposed to say? A twenty-nine-year-old woman drove away on her own, and now I can’t reach her? Once Clay learned she’d disappeared, he followed the GPS. Your car was just located outside Des Moines… Anton, I’m so sorry. I truly thought she would return after she got her break. You know how the hormones are making her emotional. I’m very worried.”
Eric couldn’t drive the car fast enough for Tony. “Eric! Hit the damn gas! I need to be home!” His mind scrambled as he spoke to Catherine through the phone. “Des Moines? Jane Allyson is there. I’ll contact her.”
“Claire left her phone and iPad here. I can tell you, she’s missed many calls from people, especially her sister.”
“Shit. Someone will need to contact Emily.” The jet lag was nothing compared to the chaos in his mind. “What if Chester’s accomplice has her? We need to get the police involved. Have I received any ransom requests?”
“No, nothing here.”
“So, a car tries to run Clay off the road, and later, that same day, Claire decides to leave. Doesn’t anyone else think this is suspicious?” His question was rhetorical; he’d disconnected their call.
A few minutes later, the front door of the estate burst open. Tony entered barking orders into his phone and around the room. He wanted everyone in his office yesterday. He wanted the security detail, Tom and Brent, the local police chief, and he even contacted the FBI. His call to Jane Allyson went to her secretary. Ms. Allyson was in court and wouldn’t be available for another few hours; however, the secretary knew nothing about Ms. Nichols.
Tony even called Emily and Harry. Surprisingly, the call with Harry went better than the one with Emily. He ended up hanging up on her. Harry promised to call with any news and assured Tony they’d not seen or heard from Claire, but they would contact him if they did.
Tony contacted his office; there’d been no ransom requests or other messages. Patricia would check the satellite offices and get back to him immediately.
Although she’d only been missing a short time, with Tony’s influence, APB’s went out to all airports and every flight’s manifest and passenger list was scrutinized for Claire Nichols. Her name didn’t appear as anyone who’d flown in the past forty-eight hours or who had reservations.
While Tony assembled the greater part of his posse, Chief Newburg of the Iowa City Police Department, excused himself to take a call. When he returned, he reluctantly approached Tony. “Mr. Rawlings, I need to speak to you privately.”
Tony looked around the room. His legal consultants were present as well as Catherine and his security detail. “Does this have to do with Ms. Nichols?”
“Yes, sir, it does.”
“Then I don’t see any reason you can’t speak in front of these people. We all want to find her.”
“I think this would be better alone.”
Tony’s heart sank. He looked around. “Everyone but Catherine and Brent step out of my office for a minute.”
Chief Newburg waited until the grand doors closed, leaving the four of them alone. “Mr. Rawlings, a Mr. and Mrs. John Vandersol have contacted the Palo Alto, California Police Department. Their department has formally contacted our department. You
are being accused of culpability in the disappearance of Ms. Claire Nichols. If she is not found, they want you charged with her disappearance and possible death—same for her child.”
Tony collapsed into his leather chair. “Chief, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I called you here.”
“If they’d contacted our office personally, I could agree with you and talk them down. Unfortunately, since they’ve involved another agency, and we have to follow through. Mr. Rawlings, may we search your house?”
“Yes. Of course, do anything you need to do to find her, but please don’t waste too much time here. Find out where she went, and if she’s with some maniac. You know she was attacked in California. We’ve brought the threatening mailings to you. She could be with some crazy person right now.” His dark eyes fumed as he fought the desire to argue his innocence.
“I understand, Mr. Rawlings. We will get to the bottom of this.”
Chief Newburg called for additional officers and began taking statements from Anthony Rawlings and his household employees. The process lasted deep into the night, and most of the staff remained blissfully ignorant. Chief Newburg wondered how so many people could reside under the same roof and have no idea what was happening with one another.
By the time they finished, Tony figured Claire had possibly been in the hands of some zealot for an additional five hours. It took all of Brent’s persuasive power to keep Tony from calling Emily and John and telling them exactly what he thought of their charges. After all, Claire’s baby was his baby. He’d never cause Claire or their baby harm. He reasoned: All right, maybe I did with Claire, but now, I wouldn’t.
During the questioning, another team of investigators descended upon the house. They went from room to room and searched everything. One investigator searching their private suite found Claire’s box of research. He deemed the information worthy to be designated as evidence and took it back to the station for processing. They also asked about the estate’s security system. The police wanted to know about video footage and if they could access saved files.
The press was already hot on the hunt. Someone leaked to the media that the ICPD was investigating Anthony Rawlings and his estate in conjunction with the reported disappearance of his ex-wife and current live-in relationship, Claire Rawlings Nichols.
As soon as everyone left, Tony returned numerous calls from his publicist who was working feverishly to restrain the outgoing information. Shelly was doing her best, but stalling or limiting was all she could promise. It was coming too fast and too furious; curtailing it was impossible.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Any emotion, if it is sincere, is involuntary.
—Mark Twain
At a roadside motel, somewhere in Illinois, Claire dried her newly temporarily-died red hair while Phillip explained the first part of her escape. “You’ll stay in Florence for a few days before you make your way across Italy toward Switzerland.” His voice came through the thin bathroom door as she changed into the clothes he’d brought. “The secret of staying hidden is moving, but not too erratically.”
She slid the squeaky pocket door, creating an opening large enough for her to exit the ugly pink and black tiled bathroom. The smell of stale smoke overtook her senses as her eyes scanned the shabby motel room. Thread bare carpet highlighted the traffic areas. Despite the surroundings, Claire’s voice sounded stronger than before, “Eventually, I want to settle. I have a child to raise.”
From the corner of her eye, in the cloudy mirror above the low dresser, she saw her unfamiliar reflection. She noticed the looseness of the new clothes. They hid her pregnancy much better than her previous outfit.
“You will, after you acquire the money from the account in Geneva.”
Claire nodded. Catherine’s documents had specific instructions for accessing Nathaniel Rawls’ hidden fortune. It seemed appropriate that if his decree could send her into hiding—then his money could finance her future. Claire even justified it as her baby’s grandfather’s support. It was amazing how the mind can twist things, making them legitimate, especially under duress.
Phil went on, “You’ll have a week to travel from Florence to Geneva. I’ll meet you there next Thursday. Your hotel reservation is set in Geneva. I need to know where to meet you. It’s too dangerous for you to have contact with anyone in the United States, even me. While leaving the U.S. you’re Lauren Michaels. In Geneva, minus the time you’re in the bank, you’re Isabelle Alexander. Hopefully, once I’m there, we’ll discuss your eventual destination.”
“Hopefully?” Claire asked.
“Your transaction must be complete. Temporary identities are one thing; securing a permanent identity with a new residence is expensive.”
Claire nodded. She wondered how much money the Switzerland account held.
Phil left Claire at a café in Burlington, a suburb of Cincinnati. From there she called a taxi which took her to the Cincinnati International Airport. She had to admit, he was smart. The curbs at the airport had video surveillance. With this plan, if she were to be identified, he wasn’t connected.
Claire realized she was flying international with nothing more than a carry-on; Phil supplied her with the basics. She would need to purchase everything else new in Italy. His plan provided her with enough starter cash to sustain her until she completed her financial transaction in Geneva.
The first security check was unnerving. Claire summoned every mask she’d ever worn. Once she passed to the other side of the checkpoint and nodded to the last TSA agent, she sighed with relief. From that point on, Ms. Lauren Michaels confidently met each agent and scan head-on.
Lauren was thirty thousand feet in the air, crossing the Atlantic Ocean, by the time the police finished searching Anthony Rawlings’ estate. The striking green-eyed woman with deep amber hair rode economy-class, wedged between a mother with a sleeping child and a man in a cheap suit. The man to her left was not only a barrier to the aisle, but after he consumed too many seven dollar beers, his attempts at flirting made her debate the pros and cons of committing assault and battery.
It took all her self-restraint to not pull the large diamond from her purse and wiggle it under his nose. In her daydream, she curtly said, “Leave me alone, jerk; I’m engaged.” But sadly, she realized that was no longer true.
The diamond was the only instruction from Phil, Claire didn’t follow. She could leave her Prada purse, her overpriced clothes, and her Cartier sunglasses—just not the ring. Claire closed her eyes and remembered the afternoon she’d finally accepted it…
It was a Saturday, and Tony was working from home. She’d spent most of the morning out in the gardens. Before, when they were married, Claire longed to work in the gardens, planting and tending his beautiful plants. Back then, she worried it wasn’t appropriate. Now she didn’t care and didn’t ask. One day, she started talking with James, the gardener. He helped her find the tools. Tony never complained. On the contrary, he delighted in her hobbies, often asking questions about her plants and supporting her desire to get her hands dirty and tend the small living things.
On that particular Saturday, after digging, dividing, replanting, and weeding, Claire decided to cool off in the pool. Tony must have seen her swimming. She’d only been in the cool water for a few minutes when he joined her. While they talked and swam in liquid bliss, he reached for her hand. Seeing the dirt still under her nails he mentioned, “I think you need a manicure after all this manual labor.”
Claire giggled and pulled her hand away. “I wasn’t planning on having anyone look that closely. Besides, I haven’t had a chance to shower yet.”
“Now that sounds intriguing!” His eyes twinkled as his lips formed a mischievous grin. “In the meantime, I know a way to deflect people’s attention from your nails.”
She was holding his shoulders, and for no particular reason, the moment felt right. Later, Claire decided it was the ordinary calmness she liked; nothing special, just realness that comes
with every day. Her answer surprised him, “Well, that shower I’m about to take…” Her emerald eyes returned his sparkle. “Perhaps if you can figure a way to bring the ring in there, I’d slip it on. I mean…” She cooed into his ear, “I wouldn’t want it to go down the drain.”
Grasping her growing waist, he gently pushed her away and stared deeply into her eyes. Claire remembered feeling the familiar tug as his gaze lingered. “Are you finally saying yes, you will be Mrs. Rawlings again?”
She nodded and kissed his neck. Her insides tightened at the sound of his responding growl. When her lips finally released his neck, she replied, “I’m willing to go from dating to engaged—can we not rush the married part?”
His dazzling smile melted her completely. Claire wanted the shower, the ring, and whatever would come next; however, his gaze turned serious as did his tone, “There is one condition.”
After trying so long for her to accept his proposal, the addition of a stipulation surprised Claire. “Yes?” she asked tentatively.
“I don’t want to have to track it down again. Do not sell it, give it away, or leave it any place but on your beautiful finger.” It was one of those non-debatable statements.
Nodding with a seductive smile, Claire whispered, “I promise.” She sealed the deal with a lingering kiss.
She couldn’t leave the ring behind.
-Three days later-
Tony stared at the monitors in his office. The large screen was sub-divided into many smaller screens. At the top was a live feed from outside his office door. He didn’t want intruders. Below were multiple smaller screens changing constantly with various locations on the estate. The bulk of the screen held two videos. He controlled the speed and sound of each one. On the left, he saw Claire in his garages, rushing to the key cabinet and removing the key to a Mercedes Benz. In the lower right corner the date read: 01/17/12. On the right was the video of Claire walking casually to the key cabinet which no longer held a lock. He watched as she removed the keys to a BMW and calmly walked toward the car. The date in the lower right corner read: 09/04/13. Repeatedly, he paused the action and scrutinized the scenes. With all his might, he tried to read Claire’s facial expressions.
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