The Consequences Series Box Set

by Aleatha Romig

  The scene melted as Sophia fought stoically not to cry. “I miss my mom and pop.” With the back of her hand, she brushed a renegade tear away. “Thank you, Marie. I suppose the holidays left me feeling lonely.” She reached out and held Marie’s hand. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime.”

  “You know, we don’t seem that different in age, yet look, Cindy came to you when she had a problem, and now, so did I.” Sophia chuckled. “You’re probably sick of listening to everyone else’s troubles.”

  “Not at all. I’m honored you feel comfortable enough to talk.”

  “I do, and I think you’re right before. No good comes from digging up the past. I don’t want to know that woman. I’ve been blessed with great parents, a fantastic husband, and good friends. Why push my luck?”

  After a delightful afternoon, Marie walked Sophia to the door. Once Marie watched Sophia’s car pull away and the barrier to the outside was closed, Catherine murmured, “Eighteen years; that’s our age difference, and you do not want to learn about the man who donated his DNA to make you. I refuse to consider him any kind of father. He doesn’t deserve any credit for the beautiful woman you are today! The way things are now is much better than bringing memories of that monster into the equation.”

  As she walked toward her office, Catherine smiled, her words not audible to anyone, “In time, my dear, I promise, that it’ll be even better.”

  Harry finished his report. His case in West Virginia was done. Tomorrow, he’d fly back to Palo Alto. He considered calling Liz and warning her, but as a sneaky grin came to his lips, he decided it would be more fun to surprise her. Since he’d been called away before Christmas, they hadn’t had a chance to celebrate the holiday. With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, he’d try to think of some way for them to enjoy the next one. Harry believed if he gave it a little thought, something would come up.

  With a few minutes to spare before leaving the field office, Harry decided to utilize the bureau’s database. It didn’t take him long to back-door his way into his old case. Within seconds, he’d accessed the Rawlings/Nichols files. When he did, he was rewarded with new information. It appeared Anthony Rawlings had continued to stay in contact, as ordered by the FBI. Claire Nichols Rawlings had given birth to a healthy baby girl. For a split second, Harry wondered if the baby had blue or brown eyes. As fast as the thought entered his mind, he pushed it away. That wasn’t his purpose for this walk down memory lane. For the last two months, Harry had successfully distanced himself from all things Rawlings/Nichols. He wanted to keep that distance—forever; however, there were a few things that kept eating at him. If he were to truly ever have closure. He needed to resolve some issues.

  He accessed the tissue-sample analysis for Simon Johnson. Since Rawlings confessed to paying for Simon’s demise, no one had taken the time to verify the Johnson case. Harry wanted to let it go. He wanted Anthony Rawlings to rot in jail for a very long time. Without a doubt, hiring someone to sabotage a plane was a crime, and of that, without a doubt, Rawlings was guilty. Of actually murdering Simon Johnson, Harry wanted to say yes: Rawlings was responsible. But he couldn’t. Johnson’s body had been so badly burnt, the forensics were difficult.

  The toxicology report came back with one-hundred-percent accuracy that actaea pachypoda was not in Simon’s system. Over the last few months, Harry had begun to wonder, what was in Simon’s system. Now, as he accessed the data, he found the answer to his question. The only foreign substance detected in Simon’s tissues was diphenhydramine. Harry scrolled to the raw data: diphenhydramine, micrograms/liter 17.5. Saying a silent prayer that his snooping would go undetected, he wrote down the information and backed out of the system. He was finally getting his life and his head where they needed to be. Harry didn’t need the powers that be to know he was still obsessing over a closed case.

  A quick Google search on his phone confirmed Harry’s thoughts: diphenhydramine was more commonly known as Benadryl. He and Simon had been friends for a few years. Harry tried to remember if Simon had allergies. After all, his plane did crash in the late fall. With the dryness and fires often associated with autumn in California, it would make sense that he’d take Benadryl during allergy season. Harry had Simon’s medical history on his laptop back at the hotel and made a mental note to check for allergies. One last search, then Harry was done. He wanted to know the lethal volume of distribution for diphenhydramine. He waited.

  After a few clicks, the answer appeared: lethal volume of distribution for diphenhydramine in adults—19.5 mg/L, children 7.5 mg/L, and infants 1.53 mg/L. Simon’s volume of distribution didn’t fall in the lethal range. Once again, Harry had more questions than answers.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.

  —Mark Twain

  Claire stared down at their three-month-old daughter. She remembered to breathe, as air fought with pride and love, to fill her chest. Staring at Nichol’s big brown eyes, she watched the chocolate come and go as her stubborn little girl fought unsuccessfully to keep her eyes alert. The lids fluttered slower and slower, each blink lasting longer than the last, until sleep overtook her round, angel-like face. While her pink lips pursed and her long, dark lashes rested upon her rosy cheeks, Claire swooned helplessly, finding it difficult to look away from the child resting peacefully in her arms. Claire wasn’t the only one held captive by Nichol’s charm. It reached out to anyone within her sphere, including Madeline.

  Claire rocked Nichol gently as Madeline’s rich laugh and hearty voice filled the tropical air, “Madame el, she eats well! Your beautiful daughter, she’s growing every day. Look at those cheeks!”

  Both women peered at Nichol’s soft skin nestled against Claire’s breast. Answering in a stage whisper, Claire replied, “She is! Too fast! I want to hold her and rock her forever.”

  “Enjoy, because soon she’ll be crawling all over this floor. Next, she’ll be running all over the island.”

  Claire shook her head. She couldn’t imagine her little baby girl crawling, much less running. Enjoying the even pace of the rocking chair, Claire closed her eyes and sighed. “I never imagined it would be so amazing.”

  “Madame el, do you want me to put the princess in her crib?”

  Claire started to say, no, when she looked up and saw Tony enter the room. The gleam which normally occupied his soft brown eyes, especially since the birth of their daughter, was gone. In its place, Claire saw darkness. She wasn’t sure the cause. Was it worry or concern? His stoic expression hid any revealing clues, yet she knew there was something. It wasn’t just his eyes; she could feel the tension radiating from his every pore. It’d been so long since she’d seen him this way. Instinctively, she understood he wanted to speak to her alone.

  Feigning a smile toward Madeline, Claire relinquished the sleeping bundle. “I’d love to sit here all day; however, I’ll admit, Nichol needs a good nap in her crib if we’re going to ever get her on the right schedule.”

  “Oui, Madame el, we will.” Madeline looked toward Tony and back to Claire. Her smile faded as the lines in her forehead deepened. She continued, “If you need anything, or you, Monsieur, please call for me. After I put the little angel down, I shall be in the kitchen.”

  Tony remained silent as Claire acknowledged Madeline’s words and watched her walk away. Once they were alone, Claire made her way toward her husband. With each step forward, she analyzed the man before her, standing silently, staring out at the beautiful, blue sea. Despite his casual attire, Claire recognized his stance, the tightness in his shoulders and clenched jaw. She knew he was contemplating a thousand things: he was, once again, the CEO of a billion dollar conglomerate, the man with unfathomable responsibilities: the man before paradise. She needed to know why.

  Reaching for his arm, Claire looked up into his dark eyes. “Tony, what is it? What’s the matter?”

  “I need to tell you something.” His tone mat
ched his gaze, strong and demanding. “But first, I want you to promise that you’ll do as I say.”

  Claire stood a little taller. “I love you. I promise that. What I’m going to do has yet to be determined.” The muscles under her fingertips tensed. Softening her pitch, she implored, “Tony, please tell me what happened. You’re scaring me.”

  Turning, he clutched her shoulders as his stare bore down from above. Undaunted, she waited for his explanation. Behind his eyes, where she used to see only darkness, Claire now saw fury, indecision, and love. The sound of the surf filled the void while Tony wrestled to organize his words. Finally, his warm breath hit her cheeks and he implored, “Don’t you understand? I need to know that you and Nichol are safe.”

  “We are safe. We’re all safe. What’s this about?”

  Squaring his stance, he relayed the information emotionlessly, as if addressing a board of directors, “I just got off the phone with Eric. I’m going back to Iowa.”

  Claire pulled herself free and took a few steps backward in disbelief. “No! No you’re not! We talked about this. Catherine can wait. Nichol needs you.” Reaching for his hand, she continued, “I need you.”

  “Let me finish.”

  Claire nodded. “Fine, finish, but you know what Agent Jackson said. There are charges and a case against you. You helped hide Catherine’s crimes and ran from the FBI. When you step foot on U.S. soil, they’ll take you into custody.” Tears trickled from her eyes. She’d begged for less. Begging to keep her husband safe, with her in paradise, came without hesitation. “Please, Tony. Please remember, we said one year. Let Nichol celebrate her first birthday with us, all of us, here together.”

  “Damn it, you’re killing me,” he said as he wiped the tears from his wife’s cheeks. Gently taking her hand, he led her out onto the lanai, to a shaded chaise lounge. Sitting, he directed, “Look at this view.”

  She turned toward the horizon. It was the same view she’d seen each day for months. Some days, she could stare at it for hours, but now she wanted answers.

  Tugging softly on her chin, Tony pulled her gaze toward him and kissed her lips. Claire’s heart ached at the sadness she saw. He continued, “I need to know you two are here, safe and sound. I won’t inform the FBI I’m back in the States.” As Claire’s rebuttal began, Tony shook his head in an effort to keep her quiet. Obediently swallowing her protest, she nodded and he went on, “Then-then, I’ll be back. I’ve contacted Phil. With his help, we can finish our objective sooner rather than later.”

  Phil had returned to the States after the first of the year. He stayed in constant contact, and Claire hadn’t seen any worrisome emails. “Why?” Her voice quivered as she tried to voice her multitude of concerns all at once. “Why would you take that risk? What’s so important that it can’t wait a year? And how did you talk to Eric? Both the FBI and Phil told you not to contact anyone who doesn’t know our location. What if he told Catherine?”

  “He won’t. If there’s one person in this world I trust explicitly besides you, it’s Eric. He’s proven himself over and over.”

  “Yeah, you used to say the same thing about—” Although Claire stopped herself before she completed the sentence, it was too late. In the pools of black staring at her, she saw the pain she’d just inflicted.

  Tony’s volume rose. “You don’t think I know? You don’t think I’ve berated myself over and over for trusting her and putting you and Nichol in harm’s way.” Claire reached out, but when the tips of her fingers neared his arm, he pulled away. His response was as much a confession as a wish, “I thought the estate was a haven. Hell, you were probably safer in California with—”

  Claire wouldn’t let Tony go there, she interrupted, “I’m sorry. I know you trust Eric. I also know you thought you were protecting us. We can’t rewrite history. If we could, our pen would probably run out of ink.” This time, as she touched his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, he didn’t stop her. “Please tell me what’s happening.”

  “I have to go back and be sure everyone is safe. It’s a responsibility I can’t avoid.”

  “Is this about Sophia, Catherine’s daughter? Do you really think Catherine would do anything to her own daughter? Besides, not to sound selfish, but I don’t think she’s worth you leaving us and taking the risk.”

  “It’s not about Catherine’s daughter.” Tony hesitated.

  “Then who is that important?”

  “Emily.”

  Claire’s heart stopped. Despite the warm ocean breeze, her body shivered while goose bumps formed. “Emily? What do you mean? Did something happen?”

  “Not yet, but Phil called, and he’s concerned. Emily and Catherine have been communicating quite a bit recently, via email and phone. His instincts told him something wasn’t right.”

  Claire studied her husband’s features. In her heart, she knew she’d misjudged his sincerity involving her family in the past. She reminded herself that things had changed. They had changed. Seeing the lines around his eyes and the angst in his expression, she believed that he truly looked worried. She continued to listen.

  “Phil didn’t know any more, so I decided it was worth the risk to call Eric. Our cell is blocked. Phil’s made sure that it can’t be traced. When I got a hold of Eric, he agreed: there’s something going on with Catherine and Emily. He said your sister and brother-in-law have agreed to come to Iowa next week. Catherine convinced Emily to visit and retrieve some of your things.”

  Claire stood and paced near the edge of the infinity pool. The beautiful surroundings no longer registered. Her mind was on the other side of the world. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would Emily be talking with Catherine? She shouldn’t trust anything Catherine says.”

  “But Emily doesn’t know that. All she knows it that you trusted Catherine. I’d bet you told Emily multiple times how wonderful Catherine was to you.”

  The bile rose from Claire’s stomach as her mind recalled the glowing endorsements she’d bestowed upon Catherine in her recollections of life on the estate. “I did, but…”

  Tony put his hand out, and Claire walked toward him, tears teetering on her lids, as he continued her sentence, “but Emily doesn’t know the truth.”

  “Then I’ll call her. After all, you just called Eric. I’ll call Emily.”

  “You’ve been missing for six months. How do you think that conversation will go?”

  Claire knelt before Tony and laid her forehead on his knees. “Do you think…” Sobs of fear resonated from her chest. “Do you think Catherine would hurt Emily?”

  Although she looked up to her husband for confirmation, Tony didn’t need to answer. Claire knew the truth before she posed the question. Emily too was a child of a child.

  He stroked her hair reassuringly. “I will stop this. It can’t go on. We can’t live in hiding forever, and John and Emily shouldn’t live in fear of a threat they don’t even know exists.”

  Taking a deep breath, Claire said, “You’re right.”

  Standing, she brushed her lips against his. Tony pulled her into his lap, exhaled, and said, “Thank you. It’ll be a relief to know you’re safe.”

  Claire leaned away, her voice stronger. “You’re right. This can’t go on, but you’re not right about Nichol and me staying here. Phil better get us an extra seat because we’re going with you.” She saw his finger moving toward her, about to silence her talking, but Claire shook her head and leaned back. Momentarily, their eyes meet. Hers contained a fire she didn’t try to subdue. It was a fire with a purpose. The flames masked the growing fear coiling through her thoughts. “Tony, this isn’t debatable. I’m not asking. We aren’t staying here and worrying. Besides, Emily is my sister. I’m going.”

  Breaking their stare-off, Claire ended the conversation by surrendering herself to his embrace. She concentrated on the steady beat of his heart as her head rose and fell with his deep, exasperated breaths. The sounds resonating from his chest pacified her. She fought the desire to st
ay this way forever, safe and secure in her husband’s arms.

  Claire had played this game before. She’d just called his bluff. Now, it was up to Tony. He needed to decide to call, raise the stakes, or fold. She didn’t think folding was an option. Although he wasn’t happy with her proclamation, and it jeopardized his sense of control, they both knew the money to pay Phil, keep them hidden, and secure their return technically belonged to her. Ultimately, Claire would decide who would travel and who wouldn’t.

  As minutes ticked by, Claire lay silently in his embrace. She didn’t need to see his eyes. The color didn’t matter. If she wanted to go, then she was going. Claire could’ve yelled or fought to make him understand; instead she waited. Tony needed to justify this reality on his terms. When his arms squeezed her tighter, she knew his decision was made. With a sigh, Tony acquiesced, “I’ll call Phil. We’ll see what he can do; however, I’m confronting Catherine alone. I don’t want you or Nichol in her presence, unless she’s in police custody.” He kissed the top of her head. “Hell, even then, no! I’d don’t want Catherine to ever be near Nichol!”

  Claire nodded in agreement. He believed he’d made a compromise. Truthfully, she’d won, yet if making his declaration helped Tony accept her company, she didn’t care. Claire didn’t want Catherine near Nichol either. Her priority was keeping both Nichol and Tony safe. After they assured Emily and John’s safety, Claire wanted her family back in paradise. Eventually, Tony would need to surrender to the FBI. It was inevitable, but she wanted her nine more months of paradise.

  The last five months had been magical. Tony and Claire were finally partners with all the ups and downs accompanying those roles. They didn’t always agree; however, after a life with false conformity, they learned disagreeing wasn’t negative. It didn’t mean disobedience or insubordination; instead, it meant discussion, voicing opinions, perhaps arguing, and then making up. Even this last conversation illustrated their recently established equality. They’d faced the demons of their past and chosen a future.