“I think we need to discuss this…” was what I remember saying. He didn’t want to discuss it. Anthony Rawlings had other plans. A second later my dress lay shredded on the floor, torn from my body. Unfortunately, that night will live forever, burned into my memory.
Does one fight when one knows she can’t win? Does one protest when she knows it falls on deaf ears? Does one pray for escape, even if death is the most viable alternative? I only know how I can personally answer those questions. I pray that those of you reading this will never need to learn your answers.
The chapter wasn’t over, but Brent couldn’t read anymore.
THOSE WORDS FROM Claire's memoirs rushed to the forefront of Brent’s mind as he stared at his best friend in the hospital corridor. The look in Tony’s eyes was darker than Brent had ever seen. Was that what Claire had been forced to face years ago?
Truly, Brent’s bravado spoke volumes about the evolution of their friendship. The reality of Brent successfully removing Tony from that hospital hallway was something that years ago would probably not have even been attempted. Somehow, Claire’s plight gave Brent strength. She moved mountains when it came to Tony—it was doable. The last thing Anthony Rawlings needed to do was to walk through a restraining order, and just because they both knew that, it didn’t ease the tension as they rode back to Rawlings Industries in impenetrable silence.
The lack of conversation didn’t bother Brent. He had a lot to do. Once he had Tony back to the office and safely tucked away, Brent planned to visit the judge who’d signed the restraining order. Maybe it was against protocol, but he’d learned to work the system. As they rode, he sent a message to his assistant telling her to set up the meeting.
From what little Brent had read, he believed that Meredith’s book was the cause or at least the bias for the order. He didn’t doubt the accuracy. Beginning with Claire’s testimony from what seemed like a lifetime ago, to the book now sitting comfortably on the New York Times bestseller list, Claire’s story had stayed consistent. There was no reason to doubt what the entire world now knew. However, as he’d counsel Tony, there was no reason for Anthony Rawlings to publicly confirm it, either.
While reviewing emails, Brent came to the one he received just prior to Tony’s first court appearance—the one stating that two charges of false imprisonment had been added to his list of infractions. Brent was confident that the same two people who alleged they had been falsely imprisoned were the same ones who’d filed for the restraining order. He was immediately thankful he hadn’t told Tony anything more about the charges. He was even happier that the Vandersols hadn’t made their presence known at the hospital. Entering Claire’s room could have been the match to ignite the explosion that none of them could survive.
They weren’t far from the office when Brent asked, “Are you sure you want to go into Rawlings? You haven’t been there in months.”
Tony turned as if pulled from a trance. “Where the hell else would I go? Well, other than to my wife and daughter, but I can’t. I have an order restricting me to stay at least one hundred yards away and to make no attempt to contact. My home is still being investigated as a crime scene, not to mention the fire, water, and smoke damage. Hell, I can’t even go there.”
“I’ve got a call into Judge Temple about the restraining order. Give me some time. And Courtney wants you to come and stay with us.”
“I think a hotel would be better right now.”
“It’s your decision, but our home is less likely to draw reporters.”
Tony nodded. “Good point.”
They’d been through Tony’s rendition of the events a hundred times, but Brent wanted to hear it again. “Before we get to the office, tell me what happened from the moment you got to the estate with Eric and Phil.”
“I’ve told you, and you’ve watched the office tapes. What more do you want to know?”
“Specifically, I need to know about John and Emily. They weren’t on the office tapes.”
Tony’s brow furrowed. “No, they were locked in Claire’s suite. There are cameras in there,” he added somewhat sheepishly, “as you know.” His normal tone returned. “Those tapes should also be available. Have Eric or Roach find them. Roach and Eric should also be able to compile the entire chain of events leading to the Vandersols’ entrance to the suite. There’s even a way to electronically verify that the lock is set on the suite door. Hell, most of the damn house is under surveillance. That’s how I knew where to go to find them. Roach texted me their location…” He lifted his phone. “…check my phone records; it should be on there.” Tony’s voice trailed away as he added, “I didn’t know where Sophia was. I didn’t get her location…”
“No one’s blaming you for Sophia.”
Darkness once again prevailed. “What the hell are you saying? Is someone blaming me for John and Emi—are you telling me they’re the cause of the false imprisonment charges?” Tony’s thoughts and sentences overlapped each other as they came forward at untold speed. “I risked everything to help them, and they’re saying it was me who put them in there and locked the damn door? It wasn’t me: it was her!”
“I think you’re right about sharing the surveillance tapes. I wanted to wait and hopefully keep them suppressed, but I don’t think we can. I think we need them. I’ll call Evergreen’s office and set up a meeting.”
“Get this damn restraining order lifted first. I need to see Claire, and I want to see Nichol.”
IN ORDER TO get the restraining order dismissed, Brent needed to contest the order on Tony’s behalf and ask for a hearing before Judge Temple. Before he followed protocol, Brent wanted to hear the grounds that the good judge heard to get a better understanding of why the order had been granted. His request may be slightly out of order: in most cases forms were filed and time went unaccounted for; however, this was different—this was Anthony Rawlings.
By the time they arrived at Rawlings Industries, Brent’s assistant had his response. Esquire Simmons had been granted a 3:00 PM meeting with Judge Temple in his chambers. Once he arrived, the judge wasted little time.
“Good afternoon, Counselor. Make this quick. My docket’s full.” Judge Temple said, looking up from his desk. He was a stocky man with a thick neck. No doubt he was more comfortable as he currently appeared with his robe hanging around his shoulders, unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a loosened gray tie and wrinkled white shirt.
“Thank you,” Brent began, “for granting me this meeting. I’m here about the restraining order—”
“Ah yes. You see, I thought perhaps you were here to apologize for shutting me out of Mr. Rawlings’ first appearance. As a judge in district court who hears a wide array of cases on a regular basis, I’ve always been a supporter of your client. You can imagine how surprised I was to see his first appearance taken from my docket and put onto Jefferies’. Well, that’s no matter. You got what you wanted. I heard Mr. Anthony Rawlings made bail.”
Brent stood dumbfounded.
“Come, Counselor, time is money.”
“Yes,” Brent said, “my client was granted bail. I’m here today about the restraining order that you granted for Jane Allyson, representative of Emily Vandersol, who assumes that she is speaking for…” he emphasized, “…Mr. Rawlings’ wife.”
“The medical records submitted as evidence state that Mrs. Rawlings is currently incapable of making her own decisions or even voicing her opinion.”
“Mrs. Rawlings is married, and as her husband, Anthony Rawlings is legally—”
“At the time of the complaint, Mr. Rawlings was being held in the Iowa City jail. As a prisoner, he was relieved of his rights.”
“He’s out.”
“On bail.”
“Yes,” Brent conceded, “on bail. Innocent until proven guilty. He is her husband.”
“Mr. Simmons, I assume you’ve heard of the book My Life as It—”
Brent felt his blood pressure rising. “Surely this court is not making decisio
ns based on works of fiction?”
Judge Temple’s neck and cheeks reddened as his voice lowered. “If you’re suggesting that I look at anything other than the facts, Counselor, I will find you in contempt.”
“Judge, Mrs. Rawlings remarried Mr. Rawlings. We have legal documentation of their union—or reunion. They have a daughter who needs her parents. Since Mrs. Rawlings is incapacitated at this time, their daughter needs her father. There’s no evidence to suggest that Mr. Rawlings is a threat to his wife or his dau—”
“Are you confident?” Judge Temple interrupted.
“I’m confident that he is no longer a threat. His family means the world to him, and he’d do—”
“Save it for court, Counselor, or maybe the Lifetime movie. In the meantime, there’s protocol for this, and you’re not following it. I don’t care who your client is. I will not in good conscience allow a man who has obviously physically and mentally abused a woman and stolen her from her life—twice, I may add—access to do it again when that woman is suffering a mental break at his hands. The evidence appears to support the premise that Mrs. Rawlings was reaching out in desperation, as she did once before, in an attempt to free herself from your client’s clutches. How many times does Ms. Nichols need to attempt to murder your client before she succeeds? Mr. Simmons, this restraining order can be seen as a benefit to both your client and Ms. Allyson’s. Regardless of the validity of Ms. Banks’ book, these two people do not belong together. As an officer of the court, I must look at what is best, not what is popular.
“Besides what is best for Ms. Allyson’s client, I must also consider the best interests of the minor. Her safety is a top priority. At this time, both her mother and father have felony charges pending against them. I’m in full support of Ms. Allyson’s contention that for the child’s safety, she needs to be removed from this volatile environment. Currently, the Vandersols have been granted temporary custody. Child protective services have been involved. I suggest that you do your research before we meet in court.”
Before Brent could respond, Judge Temple concluded their meeting. “Consider that advice my support of your client, since I was deemed unable or untrustworthy enough to be the one to grant him bail.” Temple sat taller and squared his shoulders. “I guess we’ll never know how that would have gone.” He shrugged. “That is all. I look forward to seeing Mr. Anthony Rawlings on my docket.”
Brent left the judge’s chambers in a daze. Damn political hard-balling—that was all this was. Allyson found the judge who’d been denied the ability to decide bail and played to his ego—not like it was difficult to play to Temple’s or any other judge’s ego. As soon as he got back to Rawlings, Brent intended to subpoena Claire’s medical records. Until they officially arrived, he knew how they could get a head start: Roach’s information. It might not exactly hold up in court, but it would kick-start the medical legal team at Rawlings to get going on their research.
Brent called Roach. “This is Brent Simmons. Can you get me everything you can find on Claire’s medical treatment, diagnosis, and prognosis? We’ll subpoena the official records soon enough, but this will help our research get started.”
“I’ll have everything I can find to you as soon as possible.”
“Thanks, we appreciate your help. You know, usually I wouldn’t ask—”
“Unusual circumstances warrant unusual procedures,” Phil replied.
“Yeah,” Brent said. “This definitely qualifies as unusual. Thanks again.” He hung up.
While Brent put those wheels into motion, the next stop would be Evergreen’s office. He sure as hell hoped that would go better than his chat with Judge Temple. His goal was to get the false-imprisonment counts dropped before the additional accessories to murder and attempted murder charges went on.
The raise that Brent gave himself about six months ago wasn’t going to cut it. If Rawlings Industries didn’t fail entirely under this burden, Brent’s 2013 taxes would show a significant increase in income. Friend or not, with Brent’s head pounding, this shit deserved more money!
Chapter Seven
March 2014
John
There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.
—Patrick Rothfuss
SITTING IN THE quiet hospital room, John assessed his sister-in-law. Claire was married. She’d actually married that bastard again! Once the foreign documentation was delivered to Jane Allyson, John had stared at it until he’d nearly bored holes in the pages. The attorney in him wanted to prove the documentation was false or unlawful but he knew it wasn’t. Perhaps it wasn’t the lawyer in him; maybe it was the brother-in-law. There’d been a time when Emily, Claire, and he’d been close. John truly did consider, or used to consider Claire a sister. She still was like a sister, John reminded himself. After all, it wasn’t unusual for families to have disagreements. Glancing toward the woman lying asleep on the bed, John wondered if the disagreements in this family could possibly be overcome.
Emily was at the hotel with Nichol, trying to rest. John was worried what the stress of this whole situation was doing to his wife and unborn child. Weren’t pregnant women supposed to take it easy? Instead, Emily was dealing with not only her sister but also her niece and so much more. Memories of the fire at Rawlings’ estate and being trapped in that room continued to haunt them both. Would the horrors of Anthony Rawlings ever end?
As John watched Claire sleep, his thoughts went back in time, to a time of innocence—when grades, sports, and girlfriends were the only concerns, when life was black and white. How do people not appreciate that age when it occurs? Instead, everyone wishes for maturity. John sat in the vinyl chair with a sigh. Growing up wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Their growth had started out well enough. Somehow, from early on, John knew that Emily was the girl for him. Truthfully, throughout everything they’d endured, he’d never doubted that. After all the recent darkness, it seemed as though life was finally looking up. He and Emily had a baby coming, John had a new job, and they were living the life in California. When he first started dating Emily, Claire was barely a teenager.
As John remembered her at that age, the tips of his lips rose slightly recalling the lanky adolescent with frizzy dark hair and an undeniable stubborn streak of independence. Though John found it endearing, it was something that often infuriated her older sister. He recalled many occasions when Claire chose her own path, despite her sister’s advice. He blinked the moisture from his eyes as he mourned the woman Claire was never allowed to become. He also mourned the woman she had become. Either scenario was undeniably better than the one lying before him. Despite it all, or perhaps because of it all, his sister-in-law was a survivor. Whether it was the death of her parents, the loss of her job, or surviving her first marriage, Claire survived. Not only did she survive, each time she came back stronger. For that, John believed Jordon and Shirley would be proud. For that, he believed she would triumph once again. His sister-in-law was a phoenix. Whatever had occurred in her brain to make her the way she currently was would smolder and die. Claire would once again rise from the ashes.
John wanted to believe that. No, he needed to believe that, not just for him, but for Emily and Nichol.
Thinking about Nichol and the mess at hand, John remembered Claire’s visit to California last summer. It had been the last time he or Emily had seen Claire—until now. During that visit, John had seen that same stubborn streak he’d known since she was a teenager. The only difference was that this time she directed it at them. Claire came to announce her engagement, claiming she was in love.
Really? In love with Anthony Rawlings?
Emily did her best to dissuade Claire and convince her to stay in California, reminding her of the things Anthony had done in the past. Truly, with their history, John and Emily were amazed that R
awlings had permitted Claire to travel to their home. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to persuade her to escape.
Claire assured them that it wasn’t like it had been before—that this time was different. John remembered a conversation:
“Claire, look at you. You’re starting to show,” Emily said as she feigned excitement for her sister.
Claire’s hand fluttered over her midsection. “I know. It’s amazing. I’m starting to feel our baby move.” With each word, she glowed—not only her green eyes, which reminded John of his wife’s, but also her entire expression.
That glow faded as Emily retorted, “Really? Must you use the word our? You know this is 2013. There’s nothing wrong with raising this baby on your own. You made a mistake. It’s all right. Get away while you can. I mean, fine, if you want to take his money or child support or whatever, do it. But why, oh why, would you want to subject yourself and your child to a man like him?”
“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Claire replied matter-of-factly.
“Why?” Emily asked, “Because he’ll find out? That Clay-guy will tell him, won’t he?”
John didn’t try to hide his feelings regarding Anthony Rawlings. In his eyes, the man had ruined his career and sent him to prison. If it weren’t for Amber McCoy and SiJo, the life he and Emily lived wouldn’t be possible. Thankfully, the New York Bar Association had found new evidence and revisited the case. His license was in the process of reinstatement. Despite all of that, John was a litigator and as such tried to see both sides of the story, no matter how difficult. Therefore, when Claire stood and walked to the window of their Palo Alto home, John touched his wife’s hand, shook his head, and whispered, “Do you want to push her away?”
Knowing how much Claire meant to his wife and how much she had looked forward to her visit, Emily’s teary stare burned a hole in his heart. “Claire,” John said, “you know we love you. We always have. You have to understand where we’re coming from. He ruined your life. He ruined our lives. We’re just now making a recovery.”
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