Текст книги "Truth "

Chapter 59

Claire Nichols, missing for over two weeks...

Tony settled into his plush leather chair. Perhaps because of the chaos happening around him or his desire to be away from people, his home office was the only place he could truly concentrate. He made daily appearances at his Iowa City office, but all traveling had been postponed, indefinitely. So far, none of the thousands of tips produced any clues into Claire’s disappearance. Tony rubbed his temples; it was as if she evaporated into thin air... like every hope or dream he’d ever had for his future.

He didn’t want to believe she chose to leave him. Yet, on another level, he did. If she left of her own free will, she was safe. Their baby was safe. If, as he suspected, she’d been lured away and was at the hands of some maniac, her future and that of their baby’s were unknown.

With each passing day doubts infiltrated his mind. If she left of her own free will, had any of the past four months been real? She’d accepted his ring. He told her every day how much he loved her. Had it all been a charade? Did she have her own agenda of revenge for his past sins? Tony didn’t want to think so... he just didn’t know.

Tony scanned his emails. Nothing caught his attention. He didn’t care anymore. Thankfully he had Tim, Tom, and Brent. For all practical purposes, Tim was running Rawlings Industries. Brent and Tom were busy with company matters as well as Tony’s personal matters. The Vandersols were taking every opportunity to declare Tony’s guilt to the world. Hell, at this point he’d turn himself in, if it would bring Claire home.

The large office doors opened. Catherine entered. “I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine.” His furrowed brow and the dark circles under his deep wrinkled eyes said otherwise.

“Anton, I’m sorry I didn’t try to stop her.”

Tony shook his head, “I’m not having this discussion with you.”

“But the Vandersols? If they have their way, you will be taken in on questioning, soon.”

“They’re vindictive idiots. The prosecutor will see through them.”

“Yes – but if her memoirs are published, it appears...”

Tony’s eyes pierced, “What did you say?”

Catherine straightened her neck. “I said, if Claire’s memoirs are published, the world will know about your predisposition toward violence.”

His eyes darkened with each word, “Catherine, you know I had nothing to do with her disappearance.”

She sat as her tone mellowed, “I do. But I understand the Vandersol’s concern.”

Tony’s attention turned toward his emails. One caught his attention. He clicked and read. According to his informant, Sophia had returned to Provincetown following her parents’ funeral. Under normal circumstances, he would have attended their funeral. These, however, were anything but normal. He looked back to Catherine.

“You judge me? You haven’t given a damn about your daughter in thirty plus years.”

Catherine sat straighter. “I’ll have that discussion with you in another thirty years, when you haven’t had contact with your child. Then we can discuss similarities.”

His hand hit his desk. The pen set and wireless mouse helplessly jumped. “I’ve told you your daughter lost her adoptive parents. Yet, you don’t give a damn!”

She leaned toward him, questioning, “Did you?”

“Of course not!” His eyebrows rose. “Did you?”

“You know, I don’t even know her name.”

This was only their second open conversation on the subject of Catherine’s daughter.

“I doubt there is anything in this house you don’t know. Her information is in my private files.”

Catherine exhaled, “How did it happen? How did her parents die?”

“I’m not sure.” Tony shrugged. “Her adoptive father was beginning to show signs of dementia. He was driving.”

Catherine’s eyes closed. Dementia... her thoughts immediately went to Sharron Rawls. “How bad?” Her voice was but a whisper.

Tony sat straighter, “He wasn’t like grandmother, not yet.”

“Then she’s better off. At least she didn’t need to witness...”

Tony closed his eyes, “Catherine, she could use a parent.”

Her gray eyes stared; the silence grew. Finally she replied, “Mr. Rawlings, I am sure you will do whatever you feel is best. I have made my feelings clear.” She stood and started toward the door. Suddenly she turned back toward the desk, “Mr. Evergreen called – again. He wants to speak with you in person.”

Tony turned from Catherine back to the computer screen. The NASDEQ indicator for Rawlings Industries displayed the stock’s continued downward spiral. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t responsible for Claire’s disappearance. The effects of the Vandersol’s claims were also being felt on the Dow Jones. He checked his watch. At least the weekend would stall the continued drop. There were only a few more minutes until the end of Friday’s trading session. The fun would resume again on Monday.

He picked up the telephone. “Hello, this is Anthony Rawlings. I’d like to speak to Marcus Evergreen.” “I see.” “Please inform him I have business taking me out of town for a few days. I should be back by Monday.” “Thank you.”

Next, he used his iPhone and called Eric. “Get the plane ready. I’m leaving for Provincetown in a few hours.”

*****

Sophia shivered as she walked into her art studio. After record setting heat over the summer, she couldn’t believe the coolness of the autumn. She considered turning on the furnace to remove the cool dampness from the air and from her art.

Looking out the front windows, she stared past the sidewalk full of Saturday tourists at the low clouds. She came to her studio to get out of the cottage. With Derek on his way back to Taiwan to attend a few unavoidable meetings, she needed a reprieve from life’s recent dealings. Next week they’d be back together in California.

Sophia sighed as she set her purse in the back room. There were so many things to do regarding her parents’ estate. Never had she imagined they’d incurred so much debt helping with her dreams. Thankfully, due to her recent sales, she could settle their accounts. She wondered why they never said anything. No wonder they wouldn’t consider hiring someone to help with Pop. Sophia’s heart ached with what-ifs. Their love for her took everything, even their lives. Over the last few days, Derek repeatedly tried to convince Sophia they wouldn’t have wanted it any other way; she hoped and prayed he was right.

The bell pulled Sophia from her sad spiral. Damn, she meant to lock the front door. It wasn’t that she was afraid. This was a great town. She just wanted some quiet time alone.

 As she stepped into the studio, the man at the counter looked familiar. Maybe he’d been at a gallery event, or she’d seen him on TV. She couldn’t be sure, but his eyes were so dark and mesmerizing. “I’m sorry; I’m not open today. I just forgot to lock the door,” Sophia said as she approached Tony.

“That is all right. I can come back,” Tony said with an agreeable smile. “It is just that I travel a lot and happened to be in town. A friend of mine told me about your gallery. He was here a week or so ago and bought three pieces. I’m very interested in nature, and he said you have a wonderful selection.”

Sophia exhaled and smiled. Of course, talk of her art could lift the dark cloud that held her hostage. “Are you a friend of Jackson Wilson?” Tony’s smile widened as he nodded. She continued, “He’s one of my biggest fans.”

“I don’t get this way often. Are you sure you couldn’t give me a speed tour? By the way, my name is Anthony, Anthony Rawlings.”

Sophia stuck out her hand. “Where are my manners? I’m so sorry. My name is Sophia, Sophia Burke. I would be happy to give you a tour.” She couldn’t help looking at those eyes.

“With one condition,” Anthony said, his eyes shining, “you let me buy you dinner and a drink after the tour.”

Sophia gently took the man’s elbow and led him around the studio. After a few minutes of enjoying his charm, she decided, why not? After the last two weeks, what harm could one dinner and a drink do... after all; a new investor could help with her parents’ debt.

Sophia’s mind moved slowly with recent events; however, when the word investor came to her, she recognized the name of the man beside her. “Rawlings?” She stepped back. “Are you the Anthony Rawlings, as in Rawlings Industries and Shedis-tics?”

He grinned, “The one and only.”

She tried to hide her shock. “I’m not sure if you know this... I mean you have thousands of employees, but my husband works for you at Shedis-tics.”

Tony turned toward the painting. “This is lovely. What was your inspiration?”

Sophia tried to concentrate, the mountains were from memory. “The inspiration was a mountain range in Geneva, Switzerland. It’s a beautiful place. Have you ever been?”

He nodded. Sophia saw sadness behind those memorizing eyes. “Mr. Rawlings is everything all right?” She’d been so wrapped up in her own personal tragedy she hadn’t been following the news.

His eyes refocused on her. “I’d like to purchase this.”

She never remembered making an easier sale. “You don’t have to do that, just because we identified our connection.”

“Oh, Mrs. Burke, there is more. Could we possibly discuss it all over dinner?”

Sophia looked at her watch. “It’s ten in the morning.”

He smiled, “Then lunch? Could I meet you at the Bistro at the top of Bradford Street, say one o’clock?”

“They don’t serve meals until after 5:30.”

Tony exhaled, “Well, I’m not on my usual game. I’m staying at the Inn at Crown Pointe, so once again... dinner... say six?”

“Do you want to know the price of the painting?”

“You can tell me during dinner. I’ll write you a check.” He smiled, “If you think I’m good for it?”

Despite the absurdity of this encounter, Derek had said good things about Anthony Rawlings. “I accept. I’ll see you at six.”

Tony bowed gallantly. “Mrs. Burke, it is a pleasure to finally speak with you in person. I look forward to our talk.”

She watched as he walked into the cool autumn morning. Mmm, tonight’s conversation with Derek will be interesting, she thought as the bell on the door jingled signifying Mr. Rawlings’ exit. Sophia quickly walked toward the handle and secured the lock. She’d had enough odd visits for one day.

Tony paced the confines of his executive suite thinking about Sophia. He wondered what she would be like if she’d been raised a Rawls, instead of a Rossi. In actuality, she was a London; however, that was irrelevant.

Nathaniel Rawls wanted to bring Sophia into the family as soon as he found her. At first Tony wasn’t sure; although, he never dared voice his opinion to his grandfather. Yet over time, as Nathaniel’s intention remained steadfast, Anton agreed. With Sophia’s talent, an affluent education and influence could have propelled her beyond her current meager status.

Although Sophia’s adoption was completely legal, the true reason Nathaniel’s desire never materialized was Marie/Catherine. Even in 2013, she didn’t want to know or even have knowledge of her daughter. Catherine didn’t know Sophia’s name, her occupation, anything...

Catherine knew Tony knew. Tony even suspected Catherine knew he’d been watching over her. Until the death of Sophia’s adoptive parents, they’d never discussed it. Tony wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, especially now with Sophia married into a line connected to Jonathon Burke. Yet, he reasoned, Catherine was supportive of him and Claire; perhaps she could also be supportive of Sophia’s choice.

Heaven knows, Tony didn’t approve of Derek Burke initially. However, over time the man passed every test Tony posed. Tony wanted to be sure Derek was the right person. After three years of enticements, Derek and Sophia were still together.

Tony thought pensively about Claire. If only he could say the same about them.

The knock at the door startled him. His original thought to ignore it evaporated as the rapping grew louder. “Mr. Rawlings, open the door.” He stared toward the wooden barrier. “Mr. Rawlings, this is the FBI. If you don’t open the door, we have a member of the Inn’s staff present to open it.”

His dark eyes stared as he pulled the door toward him, “FBI... is this about Claire?”

A man in a dark suit presented a badge, “Yes, sir.”

“Have you found her?”

“Mr. Rawlings, we need to take you in for questioning.”

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. —Mahatma Gandhi

Afterward

Claire rolled on the large bed, relishing the soft sheets against her skin. Smiling, she reached for the man whose warmth filled her days and nights. Instead, her touch met cool satin. Lingering in her cocoon, she enjoyed the ceiling fan’s gentle breeze as it moved the humid air around the grand bedroom. When she closed her eyes the scent of his cologne permeated her senses. Beyond her haven, she heard the sounds of morning: birds singing their morning wake-up songs and the ever present surf.

Forcing herself from the heavenly bubble, she reached for her robe, and walked toward the veranda. A veil of tropical vegetation filtered the sun’s sultry penetration. Stepping around the fragrant flowers and large lush leaves, she took in the marvelous view. Even after over two months, it still took her breath away. Leaning against the folding wall, one that, due to her instance, remained mostly open allowing the indoors to be outdoors; she relished the blue. Truly, blue couldn’t describe the panorama: endless blue sky with wisps of white filled the space above the horizon. Below the horizon, Crayola would be at a lost to describe the shades. On most mornings turquoise dominated. Sometimes if the sun was just right, the waves sparkled florescent. Farther out, away from the shore and her paradise, the waters darkened. The blue became indigo, purple or gray, often reminding her of the fog covered mountains near Palo Alto.

Wearing a white bikini and white lace cover she made her way to the front lanai. As her bare feet padded across the smooth bamboo floor, Madeline’s friendly rich voice brought her to present. “Madame el, may I bring you tea?”

Claire smiled, “Yes, Madeline, thank you. But please, no food... I’m not hungry.” The baby’s increased growth reduced her stomach to a mere fraction of its old size. She filled so easily these days.

Madeline and Francis were brought to this island paradise thirty-five years ago by their wealthy employer. He died, but they stayed. Since that time they’ve worked and maintained this heavenly home, on the other side of the world from their native Haiti, for multiple owners. When Claire purchased the paradise retreat, the couple came as part of the package. They were invaluable, especially during the first few weeks while she was alone.

She couldn’t imagine being there without them.

They did everything and anything to make Claire feel welcome and safe. Madeline’s dark, radiant skin and cheerful smile brightened every room. She absolutely glistened when Francis was near. Being married for over forty years and unable to have children themselves, they have tirelessly cared for family after family. As a matter of fact, when they first learned the estate, the island, the retreat, was purchased by a single female, they tried unsuccessfully to hide their disappointment. However, as soon as Madeline saw Claire’s midsection, she praised God for giving them another child to tend.

Within days, customary staff – lady of the house, protocol was forgotten. Claire spent hours with Madeline in the state of the art kitchen, learning to cook foods she’d never previously tried. She also spent time with Francis, caring for the tropical gardens and fruit trees. The three would sit down together and eat. To Madeline’s insistence, each meal began with a prayer. It was a ritual Claire hadn’t practiced since she was young. After so much change and discord in her life, she’s found it comforting.

Of course, as is always true, things change. Claire was no longer alone. It took some time for her husband to make his way to their paradise. Too many disappearances at once would add to the speculations of critics. Since his arrival, Madeline and Francis stepped back – some. Claire refused to allow them to be lost to archaic protocol. They may be her employees, but they were also her friends. With Claire’s insistence, all four of them sit together for midday meal. Although breakfast remained a relaxed time for Claire, it was usually a rush for Francis and Madeline; they had things to do. Claire’s husband’s schedule varied, sometimes he joined her for coffee and breakfast, and sometimes he went out and about. He liked exploring the area, reading the internet news, or taking the boat to the local village center. Evening meals were reserved for the two of them. After all, they were officially newlyweds and as such, needed time alone.

“No, madame el, you must eat. I’ll bring you muffins and fresh fruit.”

Claire shook her head. Arguing would be pointless.

At the early hour, the lush vegetation entwined above the lanai shaded the lounge chairs near the pool. Claire settled into the cushioned seat, elevated her feet, turned on her iPad, and waited for the daily news to load. She may be thousands and thousands of miles away, but technology made the world a smaller place. Events across the globe would soon be as visible, as if she were on the same continent.

It wasn’t the first story to appear on her homepage, but her own picture immediately caught Claire’s attention. She clicked and read the title: Family Files Charges against Iowa City Police Department, Prosecutor, and Anthony Rawlings.

Shaking her head, Claire read: Associated Press. John and Emily Vandersol have filed formal charges against the Iowa City Police Department, Marcus Evergreen, I.C. Prosecutor, and Anthony Rawlings(in absentia).

Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol have requested a hearing based on evidence discovered at the home of Anthony Rawlings. The request states the evidence, currently undisclosed, is sufficient to establish probable cause against Anthony Rawlings. The Vandersols also charge Mr. Rawlings with extortion. “Anyone else would be sitting in jail. It’s only because of his wealth and influence that ICPD and Mr. Evergreen have not filed charges. Their delay is corruption.” (Another of the many charges listed). The Vandersols claim the prosecutor and police department worked together to protect Anthony Rawlings. In doing so, the ICPD jeopardized the investigation of Ms. Claire Nichols’ disappearance. Mrs. Vandersol also charged Mr. Rawlings (in absentia) with the disappearance and possible death of her unborn niece or nephew.

Claire’s hand rubbed her very large midsection. Now in her thirty-fifth week, she smiled knowing no harm had come to her unborn child. She honestly didn’t believe that would be the case if she’d remained at Catherine’s disposal. She continued reading:

Ms. Nichols was last seen September 4, 2013. Mr. Anthony Rawlings disappeared after his private plane made an emergency landing in the Appalachian Mountains, September 21, 2013. The FBI will not confirm or deny the survival of Mr. Rawlings following this incident. The FBI refused additional comments claiming an ongoing investigation. Currently, no charges have been filed.

Rawlings Industries is currently operating with a temporary CEO and the same Board of Directors. It has been speculated that the pending charges will force the SEC to investigate Rawlings Industries. Since September the share price has dropped from $142.37 to $86.84 at last call.

Despite her reading material, when Claire realized she’d eaten all of Madeline’s food, a smile appeared on her face.

Madeline’s voice came above the sound of surf. “Madame el, may I get you more tea or perhaps some water?”

“Madeline, I would love some water. It’s getting hotter by the minute.”

“Then perhaps you should be in the water?” The rich, husky voice came from behind. She couldn’t see the handsome source. Yet, instantaneously her neck tensed and goose bumps appeared on her arms and legs. It amazed Claire how something as benign as a voice could continue to incite such a visceral response.

Madeline saw Claire’s reaction and laughed. Francis and Madeline wanted Claire to be happy. It didn’t take them long to realize this man was exactly what their employer needed. Madeline’s laugh made Claire giggle.

Claire loved Madeline’s laugh, so deep and rich, just like her voice, “Madame el, I will bring you some water, and Monsieur?”

“I would like some coffee please, Madeline?” He bowed toward the woman.

She laughed at his gesture, “Why, of course. I will bring it out soon.” With that, she disappeared, leaving the lady and gentleman of the house alone.

Her husband reached for Claire’s shoulder and gently massaged. While the sound of his voice instigated chills, the touch of his hand sent her body into mayhem. It hadn’t changed; she hoped it never would.

*****

Catherine sat at Tony’s grand desk. It wasn’t like he’d be sitting there anytime soon. Thanks to his kind provisions in his absence, Catherine Marie London was listed as executor of Anthony Rawlings’ estate and anything related to it. The title came with a nice trust fund. That money plus the large sum she’d accumulated over the years left her more than financially solvent.

It took almost twenty-five years, but Marie had finally fulfilled Nathaniel’s desire. She was finally the lady of the manor. Maybe her name wasn’t Rawls, but that didn’t matter. Nathaniel told her many times how he wanted her to live, and it wasn’t as Anton’s housekeeper. Catherine Marie leaned back against the plush leather and scanned the grand office. There was no doubt; the room was much more regal from this perspective.

Catherine opened the drawer on the lower right, to inspect Anton’s private files. She fingered the tabs... in this paperless world it surprised her he’d kept these printed documents. Thankfully, the ICPD hadn’t felt the need to confiscate them as evidence.

She eyed the scribed names. There were so many. How could she figure out which one was her daughter? Catherine saw her own name. Maybe there was a clue in there. When she opened the file, she feared her heart would stop pumping. The writing wasn’t Anton’s. Catherine knew his writing well enough to duplicate it easily. This writing was Nathaniel’s.

Scribbled in the margin of a contract was the name Sophia Rossi. Catherine went through the drawer again. The only Sophia was Sophia Burke. Suddenly she no longer remembered her husband’s love, she remembered his vendetta. Burke? Burke? There was no way her daughter could be connected to Jonathon Burke.

Catherine removed the Sophia Burke file and opened the folder. Above the typed name Sophia Rossi, was the scribbled name Sophia Rossi Burke... Catherine searched the pages. There was a plethora of outdated information. Nonetheless, written above the text on the second page was a telephone number. Catherine couldn’t resist. She used the blocked house phone.

Derek answered his wife’s cellphone. The past few weeks were too much. She wasn’t up for solicitors or blocked numbers. “Hello?”

Catherine hesitated, questioning the correctness of the number. She expected a woman’s voice. “I’m sorry, I’m looking for the beautiful baby girl I was forced to give away thirty-three years ago.”

Derek listened. Sophia had said she didn’t want to know her birth parents. Nevertheless, this may be their only chance to learn the truth. “I’m sorry; my wife is indisposed right now. She’s had a difficult few weeks.”

“Yes, that’s the reason I’m calling. I never wanted to interfere with her and her adoptive parents. But now....” Catherine wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. Now she was lonely and wanted to at least meet her daughter? Now she thought her daughter might be more open to learning about her birth mother? Now she had nothing better to do...

Thankfully she didn’t need to finish the sentence. Derek interjected. “Tell me the date you gave birth.”

Catherine sat taller. Who was this man demanding information? She sure as hell wasn’t intimidated. She’d loved Nathaniel Rawls and outlasted Anton Rawls... this man was nothing in comparison. However, she answered, “July 19, 1980.”

Catherine heard muffled voices. Then a woman’s voice, “Please, don’t call again. My parents are dead. I don’t know you.”

Marie sat straighter. Of course she deserved this response. Nonetheless, part of reasoned maybe she could fill a void left by the death of her daughter’s adoptive parents. If nothing else, she could look out for the young woman from afar, as Anton and Nathaniel had done. “I’m sorry, I won’t call you again.”

Resolutely, the young woman swallowed her emotions. “Wait, if you could give me your number, I’ll think about it. Then when I’m ready I can call you.”

Catherine breathed a sigh of relief... this was more than she’d expected. “Yes, of course.”

Derek’s voice came back through the receiver, “You may give me the number. When my wife is ready, if she is ready, she will call you. Please do not call her phone again.”

Catherine heard her daughter’s sobs in the background and gave the number of a disposable phone to her son-in-law. After he repeated the number, he disconnected the line.

Catherine grinned. She’d found her daughter. Her daughter was married – to a man named Burke. She needed more information. That was all right, as before, she had the time. And without a doubt, Catherine was up for a new challenge.