Текст книги "Truth "

Chapter 2

Claire woke with a start, her eyes opened wide. The view was no different than from behind her closed lids – darkness. Utilizing her senses she felt the softness of the sheets and luxurious pillows, smelled the faint aroma of lilacs, and heard only quiet. Her mind tried to replay the past twenty-four hours. There was too much to sort. Nevertheless, she knew without a doubt, this wasn’t her cell.

Trying desperately for visual confirmation she searched the penetrating darkness for light. Only a few feet in the distance, she located the illuminated display of a digital clock: 3:57 AM. For the past nine months she awakened every morning at 6 AM. Slowly her mind churned, she wasn’t on the twin mattress, not in her cell, and most importantly, no longer in Iowa. She was in California. The two hour time difference explained her early waking. It was almost six in Iowa.

Claire tried to close her eyes and enjoy the new comfortable surroundings, yet her mind swirled uncontrollably with a whirlwind of thoughts. Finally, she gave up and got out of bed. Although she wanted to go to the kitchen, she didn’t want to wake Amber, not after everything she’d done. Thinking about her new friend, a smile spread across Claire’s face. Truly, until yesterday, she and Amber had only met once face-to-face.

Wearing her new roommate’s t-shirt and shorts; Claire made her way to the adjoining bath. Pausing at the door frame, she pushed the light switch and viewed the room where she’d slept. Compared to her prison cell, the room was palatial, containing all the natural furnishings of a bedroom. The queen sized bed had a beautiful headboard covered in ivory fabric. Matching material graced taught boxed valances covering the top of each window. Long vertical wooden blinds kept the room dark, while sleek, modern bedside stands, dressers, and a desk lined the walls. The light golden hue of the blinds contrasted beautifully with the darker wood slats covering the floor. Strategically placed beige shag rugs added warmth and undoubtedly muffling sound.

Turning to the tile covered bathroom Claire smiled at the sink. It looked like a green glass bowl sitting upon a stand. Above the sink was a large framed mirror flanked on each side by lighted sconces. Claire paused, staring at her reflection. It looked different. Her eyes glistened with the realization – it was the smile! It had been so long since she truly felt like smiling.

Claire assessed herself, she didn’t look as old as she felt. Although, the past three years had psychologically aged her beyond the chronological timetable, the more recent lack of sunshine undoubtedly benefited her skin. She remembered a time when she radiated with a bronze sun-kissed glow. She also remembered her hair lighter, both from the sun and highlights. Today her pale china complexion was surrounded by chestnut waves as her hair hung upon her back. It hadn’t been trimmed or cut in over a year.

Tip-toeing in stocking feet, Claire silently made her way into the hall. Near the entrance to her room were doors to other rooms. Last night she learned one was Amber’s office containing a desk, computers, and everything she needed to stay connected to her responsibilities at SiJo. Additional doors led to a den and an extra bedroom. Amber’s bedroom was on the other end of the condo.

Claire continued down the hall, into the living room, and through the archway to the cool kitchen. Everything looked perfect. Although she could, Amber didn’t employ a full time household staff. She reasoned, she enjoyed cooking, and often ate out. A cook would be underutilized. There was a woman who came twice a week to clean and do laundry.

Though early, Claire longed for real, non-prison coffee. She eyed the coffee maker upon the granite countertop. It was different than any she’d seen before, some kind of individual cup thing. Had making coffee changed that much in fourteen months? She tried desperately to decipher its operation. The metal stand by its side held multiple types of coffee and flavors in small sealed cups. After further investigation and exploration she surrendered and sat at the kitchen table. The quietness of the apartment combined with the freedom to move about as she wished allowed Claire’s mind to replay the past twenty-four hours. Staring through the windows into the dark predawn sky she remembered....

*****

When Claire regained consciousness at Des Moines International Airport, the security officer tried frantically to calm her nerves. Once in his office he handed Claire the telephone. On the other end Amber McCoy responded to Claire’s obvious distress, explaining, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just after Liz, my assistant, told me she booked you a flight, I started thinking. Maybe I didn’t need to take this precaution, but after all you’ve told me, well, I just thought it would be better if there weren’t any record of your travel.”

Listening to Amber’s steady tone helped Claire regain her composure. “Oh, I think that makes sense. It was just when the security officer said private plane, I immediately thought someone else sent it.”

“No wonder you freaked. I’m glad I was able to reach you. A SiJo Gaming jet will be there soon. Why don’t you stay with security until it arrives? In no time, you’ll be out here.”

When Claire handed the telephone back to airport security, the nice man offered to get her something to eat or drink. Sipping coffee and fighting feverishly to mend her frayed nerves, she thought about Amber’s reasoning. It was the same reason Jane concealed her activities from everyone. Presumably, the reason Governor Bosley chose to withhold her name from the press.

The security guard at the Iowa airport walked Claire to the tarmac where small commercial and private planes boarded and unboarded. She’d never been there before. Tony kept his plane and other Rawlings Industries planes at a small private airport outside of Iowa City. The plane Amber sent had large blue and green letters advertising SiJo Gaming, the company started by Simon Johnson. Seeing the insignia reminded Claire of Simon’s large blue eyes. A twinge of sadness seeped into her frazzled emotions as she pictured the man she saw only once since the end of their freshman year of college.

While flying across country, Claire tried to fathom her recent change of events. She was truly stunned by so many benefactors. It seemed as though not only were these individuals willing to help her, but it appeared these people saw through the façade of Anthony Rawlings. For so long, Claire truly believed his veneer was impenetrable.

Claire had contacted Amber McCoy after she received Tony’s box of information. It didn’t seem right for Claire to hide the possible cause of Amber’s fiancé’s death. She wasn’t sure how Amber would react. If Claire’s theory were correct, Claire was in essence responsible for Simon’s death – if he hadn’t tried to contact her, he might still be alive.

Claire realized her assumptions were astounding, and she had no proof. Nonetheless, as the two conversed, Claire spun an amazing tale of deceit and vengeance. Apparently she’d been convincing enough to gain Amber’s trust. In the months that followed, through multiple emails (Claire had limited computer access while incarcerated) they shared information and research regarding the materials Tony offered in his box. Together, they were in the process of recreating much of the information.

The need to recreate was due to Claire’s impulsivity. In a moment of weakness she decided to throw most of the information in the prison’s incinerator. Sometimes she reasoned it wasn’t weakness, but strength – the strength to rid her of her past, a sort of cleansing. Fortuitously, she’d chosen to save a few non-duplicable items, pictures and the Top Secret report.

Claire wasn’t sure what she planned to accomplish when she recreated the box of information. She’d planned to have more time. However, she wasn’t complaining. Being released from prison almost four years early was worth the uncertainty regarding her intentions. She and Amber would continue to recreate the timeline, understand Tony’s past in order to influence his future. Perhaps others would join their quest. Claire didn’t know if Emily was up for the challenge.

Thinking about her sister, Claire knew she loved her. However, understandably Claire’s arrest and confessions strained their relationship. The accusations and concerns Emily professed and Claire vehemently denied during her marriage were now realized. Claire’s deceit cost them both dearly. Truthfully, Tony made the final call, ultimately responsible for Claire’s incarceration, John’s charges (embezzlement and fraudulent client billing), and every bad thing that happened on planet Earth in the last forty-eight years. Emily tried to support Claire while she was in the Iowa prison. Their interaction was superficial at best. Now that Claire was pardoned, reconnecting with Emily was high on her priority list.

As the small jet cleared the Santa Cruz Mountains, twilight descended upon Silicon Valley. The lights of Palo Alto greeted her, and the airport bustled with commuter planes. It was one of the busiest private airports in the country.

Wishing for invisibility from her ex-husband, Claire prayed one woman on one jet would go completely unnoticed.

As the door opened and the tepid air filled the cabin Claire allowed herself to experience the relief associated with freedom. The change of scenery helped facilitate her emotional shift. Placing one foot in front of the other she disembarked the plane. After three years of constant surveillance, the uncertainty of California’s possibilities thrilled and terrified her.

Her future was in her hands –such a simple statement of independence. Nonetheless, it could not have been made twenty-four hours earlier. Claire thought about that; it could not have been made thirty-six months ago. Straightening her shoulders and lifting her head high, Claire scanned the concourse.

As if knowing Claire’s need for immediate confirmation and reaffirmation, Amber walked silently from an unmarked hanger. She looked much different than she did eighteen months ago at Simon’s funeral. Not physically, as Claire recognized the slender brunette instantly. The difference was her presence, no longer grief stricken; Amber radiated a casual confidence and a self-assured aura. Their eyes met and Amber moved toward her.

On the concrete concourse the two friends and strangers, embraced. The day had already been extremely long. Emotionally overloaded, Claire was thankful for her new friend and ready for quiet time. Amber understood and drove them to her condo, with minimal stops on the way for essentials.

Nestled near downtown Palo Alto, Amber’s condominium blended perfectly into its surroundings with its stucco walls and orange tiled roof. They parked in an underground garage after waving to the security officer guarding the entrance. When the elevator opened to the fourth floor, Claire recognized the true grandeur of the building, with wide hallways giving access to multiple dwellings. Amber explained, she’d lived there for years, loved the neighborhood, people, and city. As a bonus, SiJo Gaming was near. She didn’t need to fight the daily San Francisco traffic.

Hardwood floors, taupe walls, and recessed lighting combined to make her condo warm and inviting. The two ladies settled onto comfortable stools at Amber’s high kitchen table and became better acquainted. Claire gazed around the room and took in the simplistic chic style. The understated panache and flair appealed to Claire. It wasn’t the grandeur of the mansion she shared with her ex-husband, yet nonetheless, lavish and elegant. The granite counters and table top felt cool and smooth. The high stools in which they sat allowed her feet to pivot upon the cast iron bar.

Their conversation proceeded benignly. Perhaps Amber could sense Claire’s dazed realization; during the hours that followed, the two women connected. They shared sushi, wine, and discussed their common bond. As the hours slipped away and the outside darkness intensified, their interaction within became increasingly real.

Nineteen hours earlier, Claire woke in a prison cell. It was the day that wouldn’t end. She was physically and emotionally spent. However, Amber must have realized there was a conversation they needed to undergo. Claire wasn’t ready for Amber’s question, “Did you love Simon?”

Recently conversation hadn’t been Claire’s norm. So sitting with Amber and being asked something so personal, something that could impact their relationship, frightened her. Claire believed her answer could cost her the one person willing to help her plight. She hesitated, “I hadn’t seen Simon since our freshman year of college, until he came to see me in Chicago.”

“I know that. But, what I want to know is if you loved him.”

Claire bowed her head. The day was too much – too many changes. She couldn’t summon a mask to disguise her true emotions. Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes saddened, though too tired for tears. “I thought I did. When we were at Valparaiso, I believed in fairy tales. I believed in forever. When he left for his internship, I expected him to return. When he didn’t, I expected an invitation to join him. It broke my heart I never got one.” Claire began to stand, believing Amber would no longer want her to stay. “When I saw him in Chicago, I remembered those feelings. Simon’s love was unconditional. You don’t know what I went through with Tony, but unconditional is not a word I’d use to describe it.” Claire hesitated, looked out the large window and saw the quiet tree lined street, four stories below, illuminated by old fashioned light poles. Although Amber remained silent, Claire no longer held eye contact, “Seeing him that day made me sad. I didn’t know about you. Honestly, I didn’t ask if he were married or engaged. I just knew the love of someone like Simon was something I’d never experience again. I knew I’d missed out on something real, and I’d never know it.” Claire pushed the stool under the counter. “Thank you for getting me out of Iowa. Once I cash the check, I’ll reimburse you. I’ll try to find somewhere to stay tonight.”

“Why are you leaving?” Amber’s surprised expression echoed her words.

“After what I just said, don’t you want me to go?”

Amber walked around the table and faced Claire. The two women were so different and yet so alike: both brunettes, Amber a little taller with brown eyes and Claire more petite with green eyes. Although both were under thirty, life had dealt them more sadness than they deserved. “No, I don’t.” Claire staggered backwards in surprise. She couldn’t take more emotion in one day. “Simon loved you. If his love was unrequited I could easily hate you. But, if his love was reciprocated, if you truly loved him in return, even ten years ago, then all I can do is all I can do.”

Claire stared at the woman before her. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying,” she reached for Claire’s hand, “I want you to stay here or at least in Palo Alto, and I want to help you find a life.” Amber widened her smile. “I want to understand more about your ex-husband, but not tonight. I want to help you do whatever you feel is necessary to repay him for his actions, whether that is revenge or just showing him you can exist without him. I want to honor Simon by having the two women who loved him unite in a common bond.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry the two of you didn’t get the chance to marry. If I had anything to do with that, I’m truly sorry.” Claire held the chair for support.

“Simon had to do with that. Not you. It was just the man he was. Don’t feel too guilty. We were friends and colleagues for years; our romance was blossoming. I’ve been blessed to have Simon in my life. Even without marriage he provided for me forever. Please let me share some of that with you.”

“Thank you, but I never want to be dependent upon anyone again. I need to be my own person.”

“That’s great. If I can help you do that, I’d be honored. Will you let me help you get on your feet?”

Claire thought about her life. Everyone she knew before her marriage was gone. Even her sister was alienated. The friends she acquired during her time with Tony were frightened or truly believed she tried to kill Tony. She and Courtney had clandestine contact. Tony’s influence knew few bounds. Had there been anyone who wanted to help her, just her? “Are you a patient person?” Claire asked.

Amber’s lips and eyes revealed a smile fighting for exposure. “I’ve been told I have problems in that area.”

Claire returned her smile, “I’m glad to hear you don’t have a halo. I was beginning to wonder.”

“Oh hell, just stick around. You’ll learn more about the horns that expose themselves occasionally.”

“I’m willing to accept your help to get me back on my feet. I hate that I need it, but I know I do… thank you.”

As Claire fell asleep that night she marveled at her new situation. Life had dealt her many changes – this one left her exhausted, eager, and filled with warmth.

*****

Those pleasant feelings continued as she once again sat at the kitchen table, trying to make sense of her life. A little after five in the morning, Amber sleepily found her way into the kitchen. “Good morning, I’m not used to having a roommate. The light startled me.”

“I’m sorry. The time difference made me wake early.”

“Don’t you want coffee?” Amber asked as she selected a small cup and placed it in the top of the machine. Next she pushed a few buttons and the machine came to life. Slowly, Claire walked over to the counter.

“I’m afraid you may have bitten off more than anyone can chew. Apparently, I don’t even know how to make coffee.”

Amber laughed, “These are kind of new. The hardest part is deciding your flavor.”

Claire explained she should call her sister before news of her release hit the media. Amber brought Claire her laptop, “This is to look up your sister’s number. You’re also welcome to use the telephone and call whomever you want.” Claire considered the possibility of unlimited access. Undoubtedly, she would require help with more than just coffee.

Emily’s number was unpublished, but Claire remembered it was listed on the information from the prison. Of course, Emily was her emergency contact. Listening to the telephone ring she prayed she’d catch her sister before Emily left for work. It was after eight in Indiana. As the answering machine began to speak, Claire hung-up. She didn’t want to leave a message. What if Emily’s line was monitored? Claire knew she sounded paranoid. But, how does the saying go? Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean someone’s not out to get you.

While Amber readied for work, Claire continued to browse the laptop. There was so much information literally at her fingers tips. Amber’s internet was much faster than the one at the prison. Claire was lost in cyberspace when sounds came from the living room. Someone had entered the front door of the condo.

Walking casually into the kitchen, in worn jeans, a white t-shirt, and bare feet was a handsome man. His blonde hair fell in messy waves, and his face held the telltale shadow of someone who’d yet to shave. Not knowing what to do, Claire sat quietly and watched as he walked in a sleepy haze toward the mysterious coffee maker. After engineering the machine like a pro, he turned toward the table and saw Claire. His smile extended to his cheeks creating small lines around his light blue eyes. “Oh, hello, you must be Claire.” He casually leaned against the counter and took her in.

Suddenly she felt underdressed. Not like she needed to be formal, just more clothes than a t-shirt and shorts. Claire couldn’t help notice his firm lean body, long legs, and obvious level of comfort. “Yes, I am. I’m also at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” Other than guards, she hadn’t spoken to a man in a longtime. She suddenly realized this man must be Amber’s new romance. She couldn’t help but think Amber moved on rather quickly. It wasn’t a judgmental thought, more an observation. Especially after last night’s conversation regarding their common bond with Simon. Claire also realized she should stop staring in his direction. He may be handsome, but the last thing Claire wanted to do was cause problems between Amber and her beau.

Offering his hand, he walked forward, “So sorry, my name is Harry. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” She responded as she shook his hand and recovered her own quickly.