Information began to materialize:
Parrott Press Wins Battle Against Rawlings Industries - Representative Promises Claire Nichols’ Rawlings Memoirs Published By October First.
Claire’s heart sank… was there any way to stop this mess? Next story:
Palo Alto Police Question Iowa City Police Regarding Lack of Cooperation with Anthony Rawlings. As of yet, no charges had been filed or restrictions placed on Mr. Rawlings’ travel. Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol have requested his passport be seized. Marcus Evergreen, Iowa City Prosecutor, was quoted as saying, “Mr. Rawlings is an upstanding law abiding citizen. Until we are convinced otherwise, he is free to live his life. He has a home and multibillion dollar business empire. We have no reason to assume he is a flight risk.”
Claire exited the current stories and began searching New Jersey records—nothing on Marie Rawls. She remembered Nathaniel was incarcerated in 1987. Claire wasn’t sure when he married Marie; however, if he married her while in prison, that would have been in New York. Claire entered Marie Rawls into the data base of Marriage Licenses—New York State. She narrowed the search to 1986–1989.
Claire held her breath as the small sentence surfaced:
February 25, 1988, Nathaniel Rawls and Catherine Marie London—license of marriage.
Claire stared at the screen… Catherine Marie London.
She wasn’t sure how long she stared; a minute, an hour, a day, maybe ten? Claire’s world once again swayed from its axis. Catherine is Marie! Marie is Catherine! What does that mean?
She closed her eyes and reviewed. The nausea from her early pregnancy returned. The stress at the bank was nothing compared to the mayhem in her mind. It meant Catherine killed Samuel and Amanda Rawls. It meant Tony paid Patrick Chester yearly for Catherine’s freedom. It meant Catherine loved Nathaniel. According to Tony, Nathaniel loved her too.
Despite the damn gray contacts, Claire’s tears of fear, rage, and sadness swelled behind the pigmented disks. She didn’t want to believe the thoughts and theories flooding her mind. She loved Catherine. The woman sustained her during the time of Tony’s domination. Claire reassured herself: Catherine is protecting me again.
However, she had to wonder, was this truly protection?
Catherine knew Claire’s greatest fear, her biggest terror, was isolation. Catherine provided money—lots of money; however, suddenly Claire questioned: how was this kinder than thirteen days sequestered in her suite? She and her baby would have every need met, yet when all was said and done, Claire’s need for love and companionship would remain unfulfilled for the rest of her life.
She laid ten Swiss Francs on the counter and stepped out into the bustling cosmopolitan city. Her hotel was only blocks away.
Claire, no Isabelle, entered the Hotel d’Angleterre in a mental fog. Her mind whirled with new and old information. The concierge’s greeting caught her off guard. “Buon pomeriggio, Seniora Alexander. Senior Alexander è qui, ti aspetta.” (Good afternoon Mrs. Alexander, Mr. Alexander is waiting for you.)
Mr. Alexander? She thought. “Grazie, dove?” (Thank you, where?)
“Egli è nella vostra suite, seniora.” (In your suite, ma’am.)
Claire nodded and tried to smile. Panic from years before bubbled from the depths of her soul. The past few months with Tony held no hint of domination, yet she knew it existed, and now, if he were upstairs in her suite, what did that mean? Did he think she’d left him for his money? Did Catherine tell him? Was this all just a set-up, a test? Had she just failed?
Claire decided company would be beneficial. “Mi sembra di aver smarrito la mia chiave, potreste aiutarmi?” (I seem to have misplaced my key, could you help me?)
“Si, seniora.” The concierge accompanied Seniora Alexander to the third floor suite. As they rode the elevator in silence, Claire’s mind spun with questions. When the doors opened, anticipation prevailed. She prayed, Please let Tony be here, and let us work this out.
She foresaw anger, but she’d seen it before. Claire squared her shoulders and stiffened her neck. Once his impending tirade was complete, she’d explain. She wanted to face the man she’d just left.
The concierge inserted the key and penetrated the lock on the polished wooden door.
Before he pulled the opulent lever, the door opened. Instead of brown darkness, she saw intense hazel. Flecks of gold shimmered within her husband’s gray-green eyes while his white hair lay casually over his forehead. Claire sighed as Phil beckoned her into the suite.
“Il mio amore!” (My love!) He pulled her hand toward him; her body followed. Instantly, his lips were on hers. She fought her urge to fight, knowing the concierge was watching their show.
Claire lifted her hands to Phil’s shoulders and pushed, “Lei mi sorprende.” (You surprise me.)
In English, “Didn’t they tell you I was here? I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
The concierge stood faithfully near, in the open door. Phil immediately reached into his pocket, removed some Swiss Francs, and thanked him for his help. When the door closed Claire freed herself and retaliated, “They said Mr. Alexander was here, my husband. I didn’t know who to expect.”
“You seem disappointed?” Phil questioned. “I had to be your husband, to be allowed entry.”
Grasping her arm, he directed her to the main room. The doors of the balcony were open to the lake below. For moments they stood silently and watched the docks as yachts came and went. The hum of people below filled the silence as the sun made its way toward the Alps elongating the shadows below.
Claire’s mind tried unsuccessfully to prioritize her myriad of thoughts. After a time, Phil’s arm surrounded her shoulders. She turned toward him; her words harsh, “The concierge is gone. The show is over.”
He removed his arm. “Did you complete your transaction?”
“I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
“I had to get to you. I’m scheduled to return to the United States early tomorrow morning. I have an appointment with the ICPD. They want to discuss the disappearance of a woman I was hired to trail.” His eyes twinkled. “You know, there is a 100 thousand dollar reward!”
“So you’re here to turn me in?”
His hazel eyes closed, jaws clenched, and head shook. “No, Claire, I’m here to make sure you completed your little endeavor at the financial institution today and to set up a meeting to move you to your permanent residence. Where will that be?”
Claire’s neck straightened. She walked onto the balcony and peered over the wrought iron rail. Phil followed closely behind. His words were a mere whisper against the sounds of the blossoming nightlife below. “You know, the last time I followed you on to a balcony, you played me for a fool. Is that your intent tonight?”
Claire turned toward him. “You know it isn’t. Things have changed.”
“Some things.”
“In San Antonio, I was protecting someone.”
“In San Antonio, you out smarted me. I can’t tell you how much that impressed me.” He stepped closer. “Until that trip.” His breath bathed her cheeks. “I had preconceived ideas about you.”
Claire stood her ground and looked up into his eyes. “Preconceived?”
His gaze searched her contact covered eyes. “I researched you, you know?” She didn’t answer. “From the beginning of my assignment with Mr. Rawlings, I read all about Claire Rawlings Nichols and made assessments based on that research. I predetermined you to be this woman who tried to kill her multibillion dollar husband: a gold-digger. I assumed he hired me to keep an eye on you, to let him know if you were getting close. I assumed he was afraid you might try it again, but then I saw you for the first time; you were walking down that street in Palo Alto. The wind was blowing your hair.” He reached out, removed the dark wig, and loosened strands of her once again chestnut hair from the confines of the hair pins. She shook her head, allowing the trusses to fall free. “I knew Mr. Rawlings wanted you, not because he was afraid. He wanted you. His
insistence at knowing your every move proved he wasn’t willing to give you up. Then, you tricked me in San Antonio.”
He stepped away. Slowly, Phil settled at the wrought iron table, leaving Claire against the rail as the glow of the setting sun framed her beautiful face. She smiled at his reference as he went on, “I learned that week that you were so much more than a beautiful woman. You’re smart, strong, sneaky, and conniving.”
“If I recall, you called me a bitch.”
A grin filled his face. “I assure you, it was meant as a compliment. I find those qualities very endearing.” He leaned forward. “I immediately became enthralled. From that moment, I’ve fought an intense desire to have you for myself.”
Claire lowered her eyes. Although she didn’t want to encourage him, she needed his help. “Thank you,” she said demurely.
“For what?”
“For all you’ve done.”
His head tilted sideways, questioning her.
She went on, “Thank you, for your kind note in San Diego, for saving my life in Palo Alto, and for wasting your talents babysitting me for months on end.”
“Clair… Isabelle,” he corrected. “I wish I could’ve been there sooner, in Palo Alto.”
Her smile turned bashful; she walked back into the suite. Phil rose and followed her within. “You, Harry, Tony, and the security guy all saved me.” She turned her intense gaze on him. “Right now, I’m nervous. Phil, I have so many questions. Things aren’t adding up.” His gaze stopped her. She needed to collect her thoughts. Exhaling, she said, “I’m going to go get these damn contacts out. Help yourself to the bar.”
Phil smiled. “Good, I like your eyes much better green.” He turned and walked toward the highboy containing bottles of fine liquors. Phil poured himself two fingers of Cognac as Claire disappeared into the bedroom.
When she returned, wearing a casual pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt, and no contacts, she saw Phil’s intense glower. As their eyes met, he said, “I’ve watched both of you.” He finished the Cognac and added more to his glass. “I realize this whole thing is to hurt your ex-husband.” He shrugged. “Which could work out well for me, but I have to say, I’ve watched a lot of people. Love and hate are both strong emotions. You’ve sacrificed everyone you hold dear to hurt Anthony Rawlings. You could’ve gone on living in California. The governor of Iowa wiped your record clean, yet your anger, your crusade, was continually met by him. You told me it was a game to him. I think it was a game to both of you: a real life chess game. Every move you made he countered. In order to get his king, you sacrificed your queen. A bold move. One I believe will work, but at what cost?”
Claire stood dumbfounded. She didn’t understand Phil’s words. “What are you saying? You think I’m here to hurt Tony?”
Phil swallowed the remaining contents of his tumbler. “That’s what Ms. London said. She said you wanted away from him. You were afraid to leave him, of what he’d do… so this was the plan.” Claire tried to follow. “Pretty creative; you exploited Mr. Rawlings’ obsession with you, his Achilles heel, to penetrate his invincibility.”
Claire didn’t speak, she couldn’t. Her mind swirled as the cyclone of thoughts became a category five hurricane. Phil took her silence as an invitation to continue his notion. “I read your theories of retaliation, for sins of past generations. I’m not saying they aren’t true. Nonetheless, don’t you find it odd? The only person who continues to survive is you.”
Claire stuttered, “You-you read my theories? Where?”
“On your laptop. Of course.”
Claire involuntarily took two steps backward. Her legs hit the sofa, and she crumbled into the soft cushions. “You found my laptop?”
“Yes, the night you were attacked. It was in Patrick Chester’s hotel room.”
Her eyes flashed. “And you gave it to Tony?”
He shrugged as he poured another two fingers. “I tried. He was preoccupied, with you. Actually, he was in the air when I found it. I reached Ms. London instead. She’s the one who told me your plan; very ingenious.” He tipped his glass in Claire’s direction.
Claire realized the liquor was helping his honesty. “What exactly did she say?”
“She told me to bring it to Iowa; I did. You were still in the hospital.”
“So, Tony never got the laptop?”
“She told me she’d give it to him. He contacted me after you woke. He told me you were going to Iowa, and my job was done. He wasn’t happy with me. I think he blamed me for Patrick Chester getting to you. Honestly, I don’t think we ever discussed the laptop.” Phil cocked his head to one side. “Your ex can be difficult.”
She lowered her head near her knees; the fullness of her mid-section restricted her motion. She straightened. “Yes, a very ingenious plan; however, I can’t take credit.”
Claire leaned toward Phil. “You told me before, you work for money. Who’s paying you now?”
“You. Ms. London gave me the starter money, but you’re paying me for everything else. Did your transaction work?”
“Are you still reporting to her?”
“No, not since I told her you were out of the U.S. She didn’t want to know more—plausible deniability.”
Claire pointed to the house phone. “Would you call for some dinner? I have many questions and would prefer to not spend this evening in public.” She softened her tone. “If that’s all right with my husband?”
Phil smiled. “That’s fine; I enjoy the privacy.”
Claire smiled a tired smile. She was suddenly exhausted, mentally and physically drained.
After their dinner arrived, Phil and Claire settled onto the wrought iron table on the balcony. She needed more answers before she could decide her future or that of her child’s. Their discussion continued as the shadows turned to twilight and darkness prevailed. Though sitting in the center of nature’s beauty, Geneva’s abundant artificial radiance impeded the stars. Manufactured glitter extended everywhere, even onto Lake Geneva as the reflection added illumination to the night.
Phil informed Claire, “Due to your family’s insistence, Mr. Rawlings is currently being pursued by the police and media as a person of interest in your disappearance.”
Claire frowned. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. If anyone should be considered a person of interest, it should be the person who sent me the scary things and tried to run Clay off the road.”
Phil looked at Claire quizzically. “Well, that would make it difficult for me to help you, then. Wouldn’t it?”
Her hand suddenly trembled as she sat her water glass upon the table and stared. “What are you saying?”
Phil saw Claire’s sudden fear and casually covered her hand. “I never intended to hurt you.”
Her eyes widened as she retrieved her hand. “I don’t understand?”
“Claire, Ms. London said you were involved. It all paved the way to this escape. I would never have sent those awful packages or pushed your car if I didn’t think you were behind it.”
“Did Ms. London explain my plan when you delivered the laptop?”
“Well, afterwards. I received text messages telling me to travel around and mail different things. She was very specific about what to do.” Claire’s complexion paled as she listened to Catherine’s complex scheme, one that reduced both her and Tony to pawns in the ongoing game of chess.
“So, you had no intentions of hurting me or my baby?”
Wrinkles surrounded Phil’s hazel eyes. “I work for money; however, I believe I’ve already revealed my true feelings on this subject…” His eyebrows rose. “…in San Diego?”
Claire held her breath.
He once again covered her hand. “I’d never hurt you.”
She exhaled. Patrick Chester didn’t have an accomplice. The sudden relief was intoxicating. Her expression mellowed. Instantaneously, the relief evaporated. There was another culprit—one Claire would have willingly allowed total access to her child. The thought nauseated her. C
ould Catherine have made Nathaniel the same promise Tony made to him?
If she did, now that she no longer needed Tony to keep Patrick Chester silent, wasn’t Tony also a child, of a child? After all, Samuel helped convict Nathaniel. Catherine killed Samuel. Tony is Samuel’s son. Everything was coming together.
Claire leaned closer. With their faces only inches apart, she whispered, “Phil, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For what you’re about to do. I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”
His hazel eyes questioned, “The next step is getting you settled.”
Claire turned her hand palm up and closed her fingers around his. She inhaled and exhaled as a devious smile overtook her face. “Senior Alexander, let’s enjoy the beautiful view and discuss the next step.”
Her plan shocked, surprised, and disappointed Phil. She truly was much smarter than he’d initially given her credit. Now with the fortune she’d successfully acquired, the combination was impressive, and although his role was different than what he’d hoped, he was more than willing to accommodate.
Phil said, “I don’t think you should stay here too long. Where do you want to go?”
With her tired eyes lingering on the vista before her, she thoughtfully replied, “Back to Italy, I’ve been thinking about Venice. I’ve never been.”
“Then let’s decide on a hotel. I’ll meet you there in a week. By that time, I should have more information and some permanent destinations for you. Tell me your requirements again.”
Claire shifted and met his expectant gaze. “You’re worried about my plan, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’ll feel better when you’re settled and safe.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to know someone’s worried about me.” She said as she sipped her iced water.
“There’re many people back in the states worried about you.”
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 115