Convicted (22 page)

Flagging down a cab, Phil instructed the driver to follow the cab up ahead. It may not have been the best detective work he’d ever done, but this wasn’t about learning. Phil didn’t want to know any more about Anthony Rawlings than he already did. In all honesty, he knew more than he wanted to know. Phil had something he wanted to
tell
Rawlings.

The cab with Rawlings pulled up to a small tavern, Mulligan’s, not far from the train station. Again, Phil wondered what Rawlings was thinking. This was way too public for someone who was supposedly missing. When Phil entered the tavern, it took all his self-control not to stand and gape at the scene unfolding in front of him. Even Rawlings seemed bewildered as he tried to comprehend the reality. Harrison Baldwin was meeting Rawlings mid-room. Yes, there were other patrons, sounds—talking, music, chairs moving, yet as Phil slipped into a dark corner, none of that registered. It was like a movie where the rest of the room turns to fuzz. All Phil could watch were the two men standing chest to chest. If it were a western, then their hands would be on their revolvers.

When Rawlings left the hotel, he didn’t look happy. Unhappy was an understatement to describe his current demeanor. Phil couldn’t hear their conversation, but he could feel the waves of tension radiating from their encounter. For a second, when Baldwin took out his badge, Phil was afraid Rawlings would deck him. It wasn’t true fear—actually, Phil would’ve enjoyed the show; however, for Claire’s sake, it was something that shouldn’t happen—at least, not in public.

Phil wanted to hear what they were saying; however, slipping into the neighboring booth wouldn’t add to the warmth of their reunion. If Phil were to trust his own intuition, this meeting had blindsided Rawlings. Phil wondered who Rawlings thought he was meeting. Shaking his head, he assessed—
if this was set up by the FBI, it seemed pretty shitty.

Phil ordered a beer and continued to watch. Neither man in the booth across the room ordered when the waitress approached. Although they sat calmly, an aura of discontent fell like a cloud all around them. Phil didn’t think it was his imagination or the fact he knew their background. Even strangers were steering clear of that corner of the bar. Despite their too low voices, their body language suggested a heated discussion. Baldwin was talking, and Rawlings wasn’t interested; however, when Baldwin pulled out his phone and showed something to Rawlings, Phil thought he saw virtual sparks fly. Rawlings’ finger pointed at Baldwin and moved to emphasize every word of his retort. Without warning, Rawlings stood and headed toward the door.

Phil watched to see if Baldwin would go after him. When he didn’t, Phil laid a few Euros on the tabletop and slid out after Rawlings. As he watched the cab stop and Rawlings begin to enter, Phil let out a breath and told himself,
this is for Claire
.

The next second, Phil reached for the handle of the cab’s door. When it opened, he eased onto the seat next to Rawlings.

“Excuse me, this cab is—” Tony’s words, in French, stopped when their eyes met. It’s understandable that he didn’t recognize Phil right away; after all, they’d only met a few times in person. Most of their correspondence had been via email and text message, but when Rawlings realized who’d just entered his cab, his eyes darkened and he growled, “What the hell?”

Also in French, Phil replied, “I’d address you by name”—Phil moved his eyes to the driver—“however, I’m not sure what that is.”

“Collins,” Rawlings said, as he exhaled and laid his head against the seat.

“Monsieur Collins, I’m sure you’ll want to hear me out.”

“This fuck’n day won’t ever end, will it?”

The cab driver looked back at Tony and asked if everything was all right. Tony nodded and replied, “Oui, to my hotel.” Then under his breath, he continued the conversation, “Monsieur, I assume you’ll be joining me?”

Phil nodded. “Bien sûr.”

A little more persistence, a little more effort, and what seemed hopeless failure may turn to glorious success.

—Elbert Hubbard

Each day was a little better than the last. Claire only allowed herself to cry or acknowledge her loneliness when she was alone in her suite. It wasn’t compartmentalization—she’d accepted her fate. These weren’t the cards she’d been dealt; no, they were the ones
she’d
drawn.

She reasoned that Madeline and Francis didn’t need to be burdened by her sadness, and her child didn’t need to experience the anguish coming from its mother—all of the time. Claire kept the sadness defined, and the rest of the time, she bluffed her way through.
Fake it until she made it—her new mantra.

The odd thing—the thing that surprised Claire—was as she
bluffed
and feigned happiness, the real pleasures of day-to-day activities seeped into her life. One afternoon, while in the kitchen with Madeline and without pretending, Claire heard her own laughter. The light, foreign, and whimsical sound surprised her more than anyone else. It had been so long since she’d truly laughed that she almost didn’t recognize it.

On the afternoon after she and Tony spoke, she lay on her bed, phone in hand, for what seemed like hours. Her plan was well thought out and well designed; nevertheless, he hung up. The pain from his decision and her situation was physical. She’d experienced physical pain before, and this was equally as immobilizing. Had it not been for the child inside of her, Claire might have chosen to remain forever on that big bed; however, as the life within her moved and grew, she knew that she too, must go on.

The tides still rose and the sun still set. Madeline and Francis still did what they did. Claire had a decision to make; she either centered her life on waiting for his call or moved on. It wasn’t a desire—it was a need. Claire needed closure. With strength she didn’t know she possessed, she turned off the phone Tony called, gathered the cords, and placed all of the phones associated with the safety deposit box in a container. She wouldn’t trap him, and she couldn’t persuade him—all Claire could do was move on.

When her reality finally hit, Claire realized she was facing her greatest fear—Catherine had won. It didn’t matter that Claire knew the truth, or that she told Tony. All that mattered were the consequences of her betrayal. On a warm night in June, she and Tony stood in an open field and promised to trust one another. Even at the time, Claire knew it was a difficult promise for Tony; nevertheless, they made a vow. It wasn’t said in front of family and friends, but it was an oath. Although some of Tony’s promises over the years were made for the wrong reasons, he showed Claire more than once that he was a man of his word.

On that same night, Tony asked Claire if she was afraid of him. Claire replied:
Of you—personally—not anymore. There was a time, but I’ve changed, and you’ve changed. No, I’m not.
If only she’d focused on that—on her promises.

All vows endure tests. These tests were rarely planned—but they happened. Catherine planned Claire’s test, deceptively using Claire’s experience, her fear, and her maternal instinct against her. By failing that test, Claire was hurt—Tony was hurt—and ultimately, their child was hurt—all the children of children. Truly, it was an impressive win on Catherine’s part. She could live on that jackpot for a long time.

It was a few days after their conversation, when Claire saw the irony. In this strange world of vengeance, Claire did what Tony said Nathaniel had done—Claire had trusted the wrong people. She couldn’t take it back. Not only had she trusted the wrong people, she’d pushed away the ones who truly cared. Whether it was Emily, John, or Phil, they were all gone, and Claire knew it was her doing.

When she sat down to eat and Francis held one of her hands and Madeline the other, Francis’ words spoke to an entity who Claire remembered from childhood. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe—she did. It was that she wasn’t sure she deserved the blessings Francis described. One day, in the gardens, Francis told Claire about his personal journey. He wasn’t only a believer, but ordained.

Each day and each meal opened Claire’s mind a little more. Before she knew it, Claire was talking to God too. No, it wasn’t audible, yet it was comforting. She didn’t ask for anything. There was nothing more she wanted. She made promises, promises to focus on her new friends, her child, and her well-being. The more she talked, the more she listened. The replies weren’t words, they were peace. Claire didn’t know how it would work, but somehow, she believed it would. In a way, it was like being with Tony; she willingly gave over control of her life.

Tony took a deep breath. Although the multi-colored sea below him reminded him of his honeymoon, the tension in his neck and shoulders was something completely different. It was no secret; Anthony Rawlings didn’t like or want to be indebted to anyone. Truly, he could count the number of people, on one hand, besides himself, who deserved credit for anything in his life. Unfortunately, that short list went all the way back to his childhood; nevertheless, someone who was no longer obligated to him in any way may have changed his life forever. The jury was still out. As the small plane continued toward some mysterious island, Tony closed his eyes and remembered the happenings of the other night.

He’d bet everything on the money in his accounts. Hovering somewhere around 200 million, the possibilities for that money were limitless. His world began to crack and cave in when he signed the ledger. Tony knew, without a doubt, Catherine hadn’t traveled to Switzerland and accessed their accounts. She hadn’t stolen Tony’s money out from under him; nevertheless, on the ledger, and on two separate occasions, he saw the signature—
C. Marie Rawls
.

When he first heard Claire’s voice, Tony’s world exploded—the relief was instantaneous.
Claire was alive! Their child was safe!
He
almost
experienced a giddiness he’d never known; then all at once, the sensation evaporated and crimson saturated his happiness. No longer did he think about Claire’s safety—that was apparently assured. Now, the obvious dominated his thoughts—Claire willingly left him and stole his money.

As she spoke, he heard memories of her proclamations. Over the years, Claire had repeatedly told him that his money didn’t matter, yet somehow, he was standing on the street in Geneva, Switzerland, minus almost 199 million dollars. Claire quipped something about growing his investment.
The only damn investment she needed to grow was inside of her. No! He reminded himself, she’d stolen that too.

Claire’s accusation made no sense.
Who would know they were both children of children?
The only person was Catherine, and Tony and Catherine had been together—forever. It wasn’t like they were
together;
however, they’d
always
been there for one another. He recalled catching her when she fell down the stairs, helping her after the incident—or rather
accident—
with his parents, and securing her freedom with annual payments to Patrick Chester.

It hadn’t all been one-sided. Catherine had helped Tony too. After Claire’s accident, Catherine was the one who convinced him not to call the police. She contrived the story that later became their statement. She helped with Claire, especially when he first brought her to the estate. Catherine taught her lessons that Claire needed to know. Tony knew he loved Claire, but he also knew he couldn’t abandon Catherine—not after everything they’d been through.

Anthony Rawlings was a businessman. He looked objectively at information and analyzed the ledgers. When he compared the two columns—he, unfortunately, saw more cons on Claire’s side. Catherine had been his rock, and more importantly—Tony’s connection to Nathaniel for as long as he could remember.

Then, there was the arranged meeting! Agent Jackson wanted Tony at Mulligan’s. From Tony’s perspective, it was ridiculous.
If the FBI knew where he was then why not come to him? No, the directive was to meet at a public place.

Even days removed, the memories fueled Tony’s rage. Agent Baldwin—
Agent
!
Harrison Baldwin was an FBI agent?!
Why? And how? And when? Was it before or after he was with Claire?