The Consequences Series Box Set

by Aleatha Romig

  Claire didn’t try to listen; instead, she concentrated on walking with the talking woman. This obedience earned her temporary exodus from her desolate room. It was a compromise she could sometimes stand. As they entered the building and walked through the cafeteria, Claire peered beyond her bubble, long enough to see someone familiar. The realization sent her back, immobilized her. Memories sped by, colors flooded her gray. She couldn’t compartmentalize fast enough.

  Before Claire knew what happened, she was on the floor. Shoes and voices were all she saw and heard…

  Meredith couldn’t react fast enough. She knew the woman across the room was Claire. Despite her dull brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and her too pale complexion, Meredith recognized her sorority sister. It was her eyes. Yes, they lacked the luster of their youth, but Meredith had no doubt; the too thin woman with emerald eyes was definitely Claire.

  Meredith wanted to call out, but if she did, she’d blow her cover. Briefly, their eyes met, bringing a momentary spark of recognition. Before Meredith could move, comment, or anything, Claire fell to the floor as if she’d been struck. Suddenly, she was lying in a fetal position, shaking her head, and mumbling incoherently.

  The woman who’d been walking with her calmly knelt beside Claire and made a call. Within seconds, they were surrounded by other members of the facility’s staff. Meredith moved forward in seemingly slow motion as they scooped Claire onto a gurney and slid an IV into her arm.

  Meredith’s ragged breath pulled at her chest as the needle entered Claire’s skin. She quietly eased herself closer to the woman she once knew. By the time she was beside the gurney, Claire’s emerald eyes held little sign of recognition. Under the guise of the commotion, Meredith gently touched Claire’s forearm and moved her lips near Claire’s ear. “Claire, it’s me, Meredith. Please help me tell your story.”

  The trembling woman before her slipped away. Her last gaze toward Meredith was one of relief as the peaceful calm of medication overtook her body. Helplessly, Meredith watched the gurney being wheeled away.

  The pain in her arm was back, but so was the calm. Before the dreams began, Claire tried to process the identity of that woman. She felt an undeniable belief that she should know her, but it wasn’t right. The woman didn’t belong here, not in her safe haven. Claire’s thoughts were scattered… her story. No, the story wasn’t just hers.

  The story belonged to so many others, so many others, who like her, would never be able to tell the world what happened; so many others, who were now silenced—now and forever, yet Claire knew every word—she’d lived it.

  Tell her story? No… some things were better left unknown!

  Chapter Two

  People are stupid; given proper motivation, almost anyone will believe almost anything.

  —Terry Goodkind

  Sighing, Claire fastened the final clasp on her luggage and turned toward Phil. “I’m glad you didn’t need to fly back to Iowa, to meet with the Iowa City Police Department.”

  Golden flecks shimmered in Phil’s hazel eyes as he responded, “Well, Mrs. Alexander, it wouldn’t be very husbandly of me to let you travel to Venice all by yourself.” Nodding toward her midsection, he continued, “Especially, not in your condition.”

  Claire’s hand instinctively moved to her growing baby. With a small smile, she replied, “Mr. Alexander, I certainly appreciate that.”

  While Phil spoke, Claire made the final adjustments on her dark wig. She’d gotten good at making the fake hair look real. That didn’t mean it didn’t itch. She was beyond ready to forgo the disguises.

  Phil continued, “It seems the ICPD no longer needs my information. The prosecutor’s office said they had new evidence to investigate and asked that I keep in touch.”

  “Hmm,” Claire hummed in agreement as she placed a few more hairpins. When her lips were clear, she asked, “I wonder what new evidence came their way?”

  Stepping behind her, he gazed into their reflection. When their eyes met, he grinned and answered, “Since I heard your end of the conversation, I’d say they were informed of a very—”

  A loud knock interrupted Phil’s words. The straightening of his stance told Claire he saw the concern in her eyes. Every contact was suspicious and required scrutiny. Phil nodded silently, stood taller, and walked toward the door.

  Claire didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she released it, hearing her husband announce, “It’s the bellhop. Are you ready to leave?”

  Allowing her shoulders to relax, Claire took one last look around the suite. The luxurious furnishings paled in comparison to the lovely view beyond the balcony. As the sun rose in the east, hues of blue and sparkling waves danced across the water of Lake Geneva. The unseasonably warm breeze bathed her cheeks as she paused and gazed at the sight for one last time. She knew it was time to go; their things were packed and ready. Exhaling, she replied, “Yes, I’m ready to move on.”

  Phil nodded as he opened the door and allowed the hotel employee to enter.

  “Signore, Signora,” Although the predominant language of Geneva was French, the Alexanders were thought to be Italian, as such, even the staff addressed them in their native language. Truthfully, most residents of the metropolitan city spoke fluent French, Italian, or German, or a combination.

  Claire silently reached for her purse as her husband instructed the staff regarding their luggage. Standing patiently, Phil placed his arm casually around his wife’s waist and led her toward the elevator. Their performance remained flawless as they sat within the confines of the taxi.

  The streets filled with people blurred as Claire contemplated her future. “Are our reservations set?” Claire asked in a whisper.

  Phil leaned closer. “Yes, my dear, let’s discuss it further in private.”

  Claire sat straight, gazed toward the driver, and nodded. No one could be trusted. She reminded herself to be mindful of listening ears. Disappearing into the night was Phil’s specialty. Doing that with a pregnant wife and multiple pieces of luggage was a new test of his clandestine skills.

  As the early morning streets of Geneva passed by the windows, Claire reflected on her last piece of business. She’d made one last visit to the financial institution, the one that only a few days ago made her an incredibly wealthy woman. If the bank employees were surprised to have Marie Rawls visit for a second time, they didn’t show it; instead, they willingly took her to the safety deposit box where she completed her business. Claire couldn’t be one hundred percent certain, but her intuition told her that when push came to shove, Tony would make his way to this hidden fortune. She decided his pot-of-gold shouldn’t be totally empty. She also knew the contents she left wouldn’t make him happy; nevertheless, this time, it was her game. She was the one holding the cards. He’d follow her rules, or he wouldn’t. She had no intentions of trapping him. No, she knew what that was like. In their figurative game of chess, she had him in check. If she’d taken the conversation with Marcus Evergreen another direction then it could have been checkmate. Watching the sidewalks fill with people, Claire wondered if Tony deserved the opportunity she was providing.

  Truthfully, she couldn’t answer that question. She could only say that she wanted him to have the opportunity. With that said, what he did with the opportunity was his choice.

  Phil gently squeezed her hand. “You seem far away. Are you going to be all right?”

  Claire shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess time will tell.” She wondered how she and Phil had come this far, how their interaction had become so casual. Given their initial meeting in San Antonio, it seemed unlikely. Sighing, Claire turned back toward the window as the car slowed. It seemed very few of the relationships in her life could boast normal beginnings. Placing her hand gingerly over her midsection, she prayed for a normal ending.

  Their reservations on Air France had them leaving Geneva early in the afternoon and flying directly to Rome. They both knew they’d miss their flight. Phil had a private pl
ane waiting to whisk them away from Switzerland and take them directly to Venice. Claire’s newfound wealth allowed him the luxury of creating a rather tangled web of trails. She wasn’t sure if anyone would seriously try to unravel their trail, but if they did, she agreed Phil was making it difficult.

  Once they arrived in Venice, their identities would again change. Sometimes Claire felt as though she needed a name-tag to help her answer to the correct name. She really didn’t care what name she used as long as she could forgo the wigs and colored contacts.

  Unfortunately, her sister, Emily, was working overtime to keep Claire’s name and face in the news. The last information Claire read online said she was still missing and speculations were centered on Anthony Rawlings. It reassured Claire to know that her call to Evergreen cleared Tony’s name.

  If Claire could make one more call, it would be to Emily. As she and Phil rode toward the airport, she remembered how it felt to have her communication restricted by Tony. Ironically, she recognized she was once again in the same situation. This time, Claire didn’t know who to blame. Was it Catherine’s fault? After all, she was the reason Claire fled. Or was it Tony’s? If he’d never taken her… Claire couldn’t even imagine that scenario. Her life was so different than anything she’d foreseen in her youth; nevertheless, she reminded herself if Tony had never taken her then she wouldn’t be having his child. Tears threatened to permeate her colored contacts as Claire accepted the truth. Her current state, current deception of friends and family was self-imposed. She couldn’t place blame anywhere but on the woman in the mirror, no matter who she looked like at any given moment. Once again, her impulsivity played into her opponent’s hand. When the cards were dealt, Claire should’ve demanded a re-deal. She should’ve stayed true to the agreement she’d made with Tony, and she should’ve trusted him; instead, she wagered with fear and went full in.

  The payoff, the safety of her child, was too important. Claire needed to see the game through until the end. Folding wasn’t an option.

  Mr. Evergreen explained that the FBI would soon be involved and instructed Claire to check in periodically. Evergreen warned that the FBI would more than likely want direct contact; however, Claire wasn’t willing to give the prosecutor anything more than Geneva as her current location. She’d lived through too many lies to trust anyone.

  Claire agreed to Evergreen’s terms in that she’d remain hidden and safe. During her conversation with Marcus, she didn’t mention she had assistance. The information didn’t seem relevant. In this high-stakes poker game, Phil was her ace in the hole.

  Claire appreciated Phil’s concern. His desires toward her had been acknowledged. She knew that she was more than a job to him. If circumstances were different, she might entertain the idea of reciprocation; however, he understood her stance. Her acceptance of his platonic affection was purely for her and her child’s safety. She’d promised Marcus Evergreen she’d remain temporarily under the radar, and in return, he’d keep Tony safe. Phil helped her fulfill her side of that agreement.

  Ten days later…

  HARRY LOOKED AT the screen of his phone and his eyes grew wide. Glancing around the room, he saw Amber’s expression. No doubt, by his sudden change in demeanor, she knew something was up. He steadied his expression and nodded.

  “Who is it?” Amber asked in a hushed tone as the rest of the room continued chatting.

  Harry didn’t respond; instead, he stepped quickly from Amber’s kitchen and the collective ears present. Before he knew it, Harry was standing in Claire’s old bedroom and answering his phone, “Hello, this is Agent Baldwin.”

  The call was not only a surprise, but an overwhelming relief. He listened carefully as Agent Williams, Special Agent in Charge of San Francisco FBI, explained the new turn of events: Claire Nichols was alive, safe, and hiding overseas. She’d personally contacted the Iowa City prosecutor, who immediately informed the FBI. Even more interesting was the tale of deception Ms. Nichols spun to Mr. Evergreen. She claimed that though she’d left town because she feared for her safety, she now had reason to fear for the safety of Anthony Rawlings, and she emphasized, under no circumstances was she implicating her ex-husband of any wrongdoing.

  With each word, the muscles in Harry’s shoulders relaxed. Up until that moment, he’d fooled himself into believing he wasn’t worried about Claire. From the second Harry hung up the telephone after the bizarre call from Anthony Rawlings, asking him if he knew where Claire had gone, he told himself, Claire made her own decisions. She’d put herself willingly in Rawlings’ sphere of influence and deserved to reap the consequences. Rawlings was responsible for her disappearance, either from his own doing or as a by-product of his wealth. Either way, it was no longer Harry’s concern. Besides, she was pregnant with Rawlings’ child.

  Then, without warning, he’d remember her voice. For a split second, that time when the conscious mind wasn’t fast enough to stop the unconscious thoughts, he’d wonder what would’ve happened if the child was his. He’d see Claire’s picture flash across the television screen or hear Emily’s worried voice and the concern, he’d told himself Claire didn’t deserve, would flood his chest.

  Listening to his supervisor, that concern now seeped out. Standing in Claire’s room, hearing that she was indeed safe and alive gave birth to tears of relief, which trickled down his cheeks. Of course, Harry couldn’t let that emotion infiltrate his voice. Hell, his attachment to his assignment was part of the reason he’d been relieved of his duties, their connection truly severed.

  It was after Patrick Chester’s attack and after the news of possible fatherhood that SAC Williams personally placed Agent Harrison Baldwin on temporary leave. Williams claimed the publicity over Chester’s attack threatened to expose their longtime operation. Permanent termination from the bureau was threatened during more than one conversation.

  None of that mattered anymore, as Harry listened and the SAC briefed him on the new developments. When Williams emphasized Rawlings’ innocence, Harry could no longer hold his tongue. “I know what that bastard did to her in the past. Maybe she’s speaking under duress?”

  SAC Williams replied, “I haven’t spoken to her directly, but Evergreen believes her.”

  “Sure he does. This time, her testimony helps Rawlings. Evergreen’s a Rawlings pawn. When she had something to say against him, the damn prosecutor wouldn’t listen and spun everything against her.”

  “Listen Baldwin, if the Deputy Director hadn’t specifically asked for you to be back on this case, it wouldn’t be happening. If you’re going to make this work, then you need to get your head straight.”

  Harry nodded. Williams was right. If he were to help again and learn more about the secrets involving the Rawls’ vendetta, then he needed to think like an agent, not a boyfriend. “Yes, sir, I understand. I’m grateful to be allowed back on this case.”

  “Be at our office tomorrow at 9:00 AM. You’re taking a trip.”

  His chest burst with excitement. This was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss. “Sir, what about Rawlings? Where’s he?”

  “He’s currently in FBI custody, although I don’t anticipate that being the situation for long. We’ll discuss this more when you arrive.”

  “I understand.” Harry continued, “Special Agent, if there is questioning of Rawlings to be done, I request to be involved.”

  “I believe you were told Ms. Nichols cleared Mr. Rawlings of anything to do with her disappearance.”

  Harry leaned against the wall and took in the empty room. Claire hadn’t lived there in almost three months. Her things had been packed and shipped, yet if he closed his eyes, he could see her face and hear her laugh. The scent of her favorite perfume lingered in the recesses of the room and lofted into his senses. He shook his head and tried to focus. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “Agent, this goes without saying; however, I realize you’ve become close to Ms. Nichols’ family. This information is classified. No one els
e can know.”

  Harry thought about the people in the kitchen: Amber, Keaton, John, Emily, and Liz. How could he possibly walk out there and not tell Claire’s sister that Claire was alive?

  Harry swallowed hard. “Yes, sir, I understand. Thank you, Special Agent, for this opportunity.”

  “Don’t blow it, Agent Baldwin. It may be your last chance.”

  “I won’t, sir.”

  After Harry disconnected the call, he walked into the attached bathroom. Looking at his reflection, he worked to subdue the smile that begged to fill his face. Finally, he gave in to the relief. Tears flooded his eyes, and his grin emerged as he whispered, “Thank you, God. Thank you for keeping her safe. Just help me nail that son-of-a-bitch once and for all!”

  Chapter Three

  I regret those times when I’ve chosen the dark side. I’ve wasted enough time not being happy.

  —Jessica Lange

  Tony made no attempt to subdue his glare. This ridiculous mockery had gone on for far too long. The walls of the small interrogation room were beginning to close in around him. He didn’t try to keep his volume in check as he addressed the FBI agent across the table, “Agent Jackson, I’ve been listening to you for hours and I’ve—”

  Brent interrupted, “What my client is trying to say is if you don’t plan on charging him with a crime, we’re leaving.”

  Agent Jackson pulled out a binder of papers. It was surprising he could locate anything within the clutter of jumbled stacks upon the table. While Brent had more recently arrived, Tony had been sitting there for hours, listening as the FBI agents tag-teamed his interrogation. One would ask questions and then disappear. Moments later, another agent would enter the room and resume the inquisition. The barrage was taking its toll; between the throbbing in his head and the ache in his back, Tony was ready to leave the small room. He didn’t care how; he just wanted out.