Truth

by Aleatha Romig

  She laid ten Swiss Francs on the counter and stepped out into the bustling cosmopolitan city. Her hotel was only blocks away.

  Claire, no Isabelle, entered the Hotel d'Angleterre in a mental fog. Her mind whirled with new and old information. The concierge’s greeting caught her off guard. “Buon pomeriggio, Seniora Alexander. Senior Alexander è qui, ti aspetta.” (Good afternoon Mrs. Alexander, Mr. Alexander is waiting for you.)

  Mr. Alexander? She thought. “Grazie, dove?” (Thank you, where?)

  “Egli è nella vostra suite, seniora.” (In your suite, ma’am)

  Claire nodded and tried to smile. Panic from years before bubbled from the depths of her soul. The past few months with Tony held no hint of domination, yet she knew it existed. And now, if he were upstairs in her suite, what did that mean? Did he think she’d left him for his money? Did Catherine tell him? Was this all just a set-up, a test? Had she just failed? Claire decided company would be beneficial, “Mi sembra di aver smarrito la mia chiave, potreste aiutarmi?” (I seem to have misplaced my key, could you help me?)

  “Si, seniora.” The concierge accompanied Seniora Alexander to the third floor suite. As they rode the elevator in silence, Claire’s mind spun with questions. When the doors opened, anticipation prevailed. She prayed, Please let Tony be here, and let us work this out.

  She foresaw anger. But she’d seen it before. Claire squared her shoulders and stiffened her neck. Once his impending tirade was complete, she’d explain. She wanted to face the man she’d just left.

  The concierge inserted the key and penetrated the lock on the polished wooden door.

  Before he pulled the opulent lever, the door opened. Instead of brown darkness she saw intense hazel. Flecks of gold shimmered within her husband’s gray-green eyes while his white hair lay casually over his forehead. Claire sighed as Phil beckoned her into the suite.

  “Il mio amore!” (My love) He pulled her hand toward him; her body followed. Instantly his lips were on hers. She fought her urge to fight, knowing the concierge was watching their show.

  Claire lifted her hands to Phil’s shoulders and pushed, “Lei mi sorprende.” (You surprise me)

  In English, “Didn’t they tell you I was here? I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

  The concierge stood faithfully near, in the open door. Phil immediately reached into his pocket, removed some Swiss Francs, and thanked him for his help. When the door closed Claire freed herself and retaliated, “They said Mr. Alexander was here, my husband. I didn’t know who to expect.”

  “You seem disappointed?” Phil questioned. “I had to be your husband, to be allowed entry.”

  Grasping her arm, he directed her to the main room. The doors of the balcony were open to the lake below. For moments they stood silently and watched the docks as yachts came and went. The hum of people below filled the silence as the sun made its way toward the Alps elongating the shadows below.

  Claire’s mind tried unsuccessfully to prioritize her myriad of thoughts. After a time Phil’s arm surrounded her shoulders. She turned toward him; her words harsh, “The concierge is gone - the show is over.”

  He removed his arm, “Did you complete your transaction?” “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”

  “I had to get to you. I’m scheduled to return to the United States early tomorrow morning. I have an appointment with the ICPD. They want to discuss the disappearance of a woman I was hired to trail.” His eyes twinkled, “You know, there is a $100,000 reward!”

  “So you’re here to turn me in?”

  His hazel eyes closed, jaws clenched, and head shook. “No, Claire, I’m here to make sure you completed your little endeavor at the financial institution today and to set up a meeting to move you to your permanent residence. Where will that be?”

  Claire’s neck straightened. She walked onto the balcony and peered over the wrought iron rail. Phil followed closely behind. His words were a mere whisper against the sounds of the blossoming nightlife below. “You know, the last time I followed you on to a balcony, you played me for a fool. Is that your intent tonight?”

  Claire turned toward him. “You know it isn’t. Things have changed.”

  “Some things.”

  “In San Antonio I was protecting someone.”

  “In San Antonio you out smarted me. I can’t tell you how much that impressed me.” He stepped closer. “Until that trip,” his breath bathed her cheeks, “I had preconceived ideas about you.”

  Claire stood her ground and looked up into his eyes, “Preconceived?”

  His gaze searched her contact covered eyes, “I researched you, you know?” She didn’t answer. “From the beginning of my assignment with Mr. Rawlings, I read all about Claire Rawlings Nichols and made assessments based on that research. I predetermined you to be this woman who tried to kill her multibillion dollar husband -- a gold-digger. I assumed he hired me to keep an eye on you, to let him know if you were getting close. I assumed he was afraid you might try it again. Then I saw you for the first time; you were walking down that street in Palo Alto. The wind was blowing your hair.” He reached out, removed the dark wig, and loosened strands of her once again chestnut hair from the confines of the hair pins. She shook her head allowing the trusses to fall free. “I knew Mr. Rawlings wanted you, not because he was afraid. He wanted you. His insistence at knowing your every move proved he wasn’t willing to give you up. Then, you tricked me in San Antonio.”

  He stepped away. Slowly Phil settled at the wrought iron table, leaving Claire against the rail as the glow of the setting sun framed her beautiful face. She smiled at his reference as he went on, “I learned that week, you were so much more than a beautiful woman. You’re smart, strong, sneaky, and conniving.”

  “If I recall, you called me a bitch.”

  A grin filled his face. “I assure you, it was meant as a compliment. I find those qualities very endearing.” He leaned forward, “I immediately became enthralled. From that moment, I’ve fought an intense desire to have you for myself.”

  Claire lowered her eyes. Although she didn’t want to encourage him; she needed his help, “Thank you,” she said demurely.

  “For what?”

  “For all you’ve done.”

  His head tilted sideways, questioning her.

  She went on, “Thank you -- for your kind note in San Diego, for saving my life in Palo Alto, and for wasting your talents babysitting me for months on end.”

  “Clair... Isabelle,” he corrected, “I wish I could’ve been there sooner, in Palo Alto.”

  Her smile turned bashful; she walked back into the suite. Phil rose and followed her within. “You, Harry, Tony, and the security guy all saved me.” She turned her intense gaze on him, “Right now, I’m nervous. Phil, I have so many questions – things aren’t adding up.” His gaze stopped her. She needed to collect her thoughts. Exhaling she said, “I’m going to go get these damn contacts out. Help yourself to the bar.”

  Phil smiled, “Good, I like your eyes much better green.” He turned and walked toward the highboy containing bottles of fine liquors. Phil poured himself two fingers of Cognac as Claire disappeared into the bedroom.

  When she returned, wearing a casual pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt, and no contacts, she saw Phil’s intense glower. As their eyes met he said, “I’ve watched both of you.” He finished the Cognac and added more to his glass. “I realize this whole thing is to hurt your ex-husband,” he shrugged his shoulders, “which could work out well for me. But... I have to say, I’ve watched a lot of people. Love and hate are both strong emotions. You’ve sacrificed everyone you hold dear to hurt Anthony Rawlings. You could’ve gone on living in California. The governor of Iowa wiped your record clean. Yet, your anger, your crusade was continually met by him. You told me it was a game to him. I think it was a game to both of you, a real life chess game. Every move you made he countered. In order to get his king, you sacrificed your queen, a bold move. One I believe will work. But at what cost?”
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  Claire stood dumbfounded. She didn’t understand Phil’s words. “What are you saying? You think I’m here to hurt Tony?”

  Phil swallowed the remaining contents of his tumbler, “That’s what Ms. London said. She said you wanted away from him. You were afraid to leave him, of what he’d do... so this was the plan.” Claire tried to follow. “Pretty creative; you exploited Mr. Rawlings’ obsession with you, his Achilles heel, to penetrate his invincibility.”

  Claire didn’t speak, she couldn’t. Her mind swirled as the cyclone of thoughts became a category five hurricane. Phil took her silence as an invitation to continue his notion. “I read your theories of retaliation, for sins of past generations. I’m not saying they aren’t true. Nonetheless, don’t you find it odd? The only person who continues to survive is you.”

  Claire stuttered, “You... you read my theories? Where?”

  “On your laptop -- of course.”

  Claire involuntarily took two steps backward. Her legs hit the sofa and she crumbled into the soft cushions. “You found my laptop?”

  “Yes, the night you were attacked. It was in Patrick Chester’s hotel room.”

  Her eyes flashed, “And you gave it to Tony?”

  He shrugged as he poured another two fingers, “I tried. He was preoccupied -- with you. Actually, he was in the air when I found it. I reached Ms. London instead. She’s the one who told me your plan, very ingenious.” He tipped his glass in Claire’s direction.

  Claire realized the liquor was helping his honesty. “What exactly did she say?”

  “She told me to bring it to Iowa; I did. You were still in the hospital.”

  “So Tony never got the laptop?”

  “She told me she’d give it to him. He contacted me after you woke. He told me you were going to Iowa, and my job was done. He wasn’t happy with me. I think he blamed me for Patrick Chester getting to you. Honestly, I don’t think we ever discussed the laptop.” Phil cocked his head to one side, “Your ex can be difficult.”

  She lowered her head near her knees; the fullness of her midsection restricted her motion. She straightened. “Yes, a very ingenious plan; however, I can’t take credit.” Claire leaned toward Phil, “You told me before, you work for money. Who’s paying you – now?”

  “You -- Ms. London gave me the starter money, but you’re paying me for everything else. Did your transaction work?”

  “Are you still reporting to her?”

  “No, not since I told her you were out of the U.S. She didn’t want to know more – plausible deniability.”

  Claire pointed to the house phone. “Would you call for some dinner? I have many questions and would prefer to not spend this evening in public.” She softened her tone, “If that is all right with my husband?”

  Phil smiled, “That’s fine. I enjoy the privacy.”

  Claire smiled a tired smile. She was suddenly exhausted, mentally and physically drained.

  After their dinner arrived, Phil and Claire settled onto the wrought iron table on the balcony. She needed more answers before she could decide her future or that of her child’s. Their discussion continued as the shadows turned to twilight and darkness prevailed. Though sitting in the center of nature’s beauty, Geneva’s abundant artificial radiance impeded the stars. Manufactured glitter extended everywhere, even onto Lake Geneva as the reflection added illumination to the night.

  Phil informed Claire, “Due to your family’s insistence, Mr. Rawlings is currently being pursued by the police and media as a person of interest in your disappearance.”

  Claire frowned, “That wasn’t supposed to happen. If anyone should be considered a person of interest, it should be the person who sent me the scary things and tried to run Clay off the road.”

  Phil looked at Claire quizzically, “Well, that would make it difficult for me to help you, then. Wouldn’t it?”

  Her hand suddenly trembled as she sat her water glass upon the table and stared. “What are you saying?”

  Phil saw Claire’s sudden fear and casually covered her hand, “I never intended to hurt you.”

  Her eyes widened as she retrieved her hand, “I don’t understand?”

  “Claire, Ms. London said you were involved. It all led to this escape. I would never have sent those awful packages or pushed your car if I didn’t think you were behind it.”

  “Did Ms. London explain my plan when you delivered the laptop?”

  “Well, afterwards. I received text messages telling me to travel around and mail different things. She was very specific about what to do.” Claire’s complexion paled as she listened to Catherine’s complex scheme -- one that reduced both her and Tony to pawns in the ongoing game of chess.

  “So, you had no intentions of hurting me or my baby?”

  Wrinkles surrounded Phil’s hazel eyes. “I work for money. However, I believe I’ve already revealed my true feelings on this subject,” his eyebrows rose, “in San Diego?”

  Claire held her breath.

  He once again covered her hand, “I’d never hurt you.”

  She exhaled. Patrick Chester didn’t have an accomplice. The sudden relief was intoxicating. Her expression mellowed. Instantaneously, the relief evaporated. There was another culprit -- one Claire would have willingly allowed total access to her child. The thought nauseated her. Could Catherine have made Nathaniel the same promise Tony made to him?

  If she did, now that she no longer needed Tony to keep Patrick Chester silent, wasn’t Tony too a child, of a child? After all, Samuel helped convict Nathaniel...Catherine killed Samuel...Tony is Samuel’s son. Everything was coming together...

  Claire leaned closer -- their faces only inches apart. “Phil, thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For what you’re about to do. I promise – I’ll make it worth your while.”

  His hazel eyes questioned, “The next step is getting you settled.”

  Claire turned her hand palm up and closed her fingers around his. She inhaled and exhaled as a devious smile overtook her face. “Senior Alexander, let’s enjoy the beautiful view and discuss the next step.”

  Her plan shocked, surprised, and disappointed Phil. She truly was much smarter than he’d initially given her credit. Now with the fortune she’d successfully acquired, the combination was impressive. And although his role was different than what he’d hoped, he was more than willing to accommodate.

  Phil said, “I don’t think you should stay here too long. Where do you want to go?”

  With her tired eyes lingering on the vista before her, she thoughtfully replied, “Back to Italy, I’ve been thinking about Venice. I’ve never been.”

  “Then let’s decide on a hotel. I’ll meet you there in a week. By that time, I should have more information and some permanent destinations for you. Tell me your requirements again.”

  Claire shifted and met his expectant gaze. “You’re worried about my plan, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I’ll feel better when you’re settled and safe.”

  “Thank you. It’s nice to know someone’s worried about me.” She said as she sipped her iced water.

  “There’re many people back in the states worried about you.”

  Claire sat tall, her expression strong. She couldn’t allow herself to think about those people, not yet. Now that she knew the truth... she was the one putting them through hell, not Tony, not Catherine. Nevertheless, it was Catherine’s impending hell that forced her moves. Placing her hand on her mid-section, she knew winning this game was truly the difference between life and death.

  If she was a child of a child, and Tony was a child of a child... their baby was doubly doomed.

  Her voice held no hint of emotion. “I like tropical, secluded, and remote. I truly don’t care about amenities. Just give me warmth, water, and sunshine.” She gazed over Lake Geneva and turned back to Phil, “And medical care needs to be accessible.”

  Claire looked at her watch, 12:02 AM. She glanced to Phil, “I�
�m going to do it.”

  He nodded. “It’s a little after five there, Wednesday evening... he may not be in his office.”

  “I have to try.” Claire rose and went into the suite. Her disposable international phone was on the table. She reached for it and called information in Iowa City. “I need the office number for the Prosecutor for Iowa City, please.” Moments later, “I would like to speak to Marcus Evergreen.” “I’m sure he’ll talk with me.” “Tell him it’s an out of work weather girl.” Claire waited a moment and then smiled at Phil. Her heartbeat quickened.

  For the first time she could see the entire game board, a few more moves and her opponent would be in check. Her call was being forwarded...

  The voice came through the receiver, “Hello? This is Marcus Evergreen.”

  “Mr. Evergreen, I was wondering if perhaps this time you’d be willing to listen to the truth?”

  All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered.

  The trick is to discover them.

  - Gallolao

  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.