“The prosecutor had me totally enthralled. I had no idea he’d been talking for so long,” Courtney said.
Knowing that his wife was always willing to do whatever it took to get close to Nichol, Brent said, “That sounds good. Give us a little time to stop by home after they wrap up for the day, then we’ll be over. Let us know what we can bring.”
“Ridiculous! Farfetched! Fiction!” Catherine’s attorney began, capitalizing on the US Attorney’s earlier flair for the dramatic. “I hope you’re all ready for a show, because that is exactly what the government wants to give you. Just look at my client. She’s worked her entire life as a servant. Oh, the wealthy have other names… housekeeper, maid, whatever. How many of you have someone who picks up after you, manages your household, and assures that your dinner is on the table? Catherine London has done that for three generations of the same family. She has worked and worked.” He lowered his voice. “She has witnessed things that no one should witness. But yet, she didn’t betray her employer. No—not until he did it first…”
Late August 2015
BRENT AND COURTNEY KNEW the routine at Yankton. Instead of surrendering their belongings, it was easier to carry only the authorized items into the visiting room. With just their keys and identifications, they arrived at the prison. Being too early for the prisoners, they migrated with the other visitors into the visiting room. As they found their way to seats, and sat quietly, they watched the other people. Some appeared confident, while others looked side to side, wondering what would happen next. Brent found it strange that only a year ago this had been a difficult and uncomfortable process. It wasn’t that they now enjoyed it, but the entire routine had become normal. The metal detector seemed less invasive. The guards and questions seemed less subjective. Brent equated it to the airport security system. Though it was a pain in the ass, it was no longer troublesome to step into the glass cubical, lift your arms, and allow the machine to scan your entire body. It just was. That was the process at Yankton—it just was.
Not long after 10:00 AM, he and Courtney watched as the inmates entered through the north door of the building, the opposite end from where they themselves had entered. They were all dressed in their khaki shirts and pants. Their black shoes with soft soles created a muffled thunder as the visitors stilled, waiting for their loved ones.
On the way, they’d discussed how nice it was to visit outside. Although it was summer and the morning temperature was conducive, it was evident that wasn’t happening. The threatening South Dakota sky and forecast of severe storms had them trapped indoors.
The inmates scanned the crowd from veiled lids, searching. Near the middle of the pack, Brent saw Tony, his height giving him away, and noticed how once Tony spotted his friends, his gait changed. No longer did he blend into the masses with his head slightly bowed and steps shuffled. In an instant, he was walking confidently with his familiar stride. Though the latter made Brent smile, his heart ached at seeing his friend as the former.
Tony extended his hand, but before Brent could shake it, Courtney was up out of her seat, and wrapping Tony in a quick, friendly hug. “How are you doing?” she asked in her cheeriest voice.
“I’m all right. How are you?”
Brent shook Tony’s hand just before he took his required seat. “We have some news,” Brent offered.
Tony nodded. “I saw it already. There was an article in this morning’s Wall Street Journal.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s so nice of them to spell out the whole Wall Street connection between me and Nathaniel.”
Brent inhaled. “I’d hoped you hadn’t seen it yet. Keep in mind that it wasn’t negative against you. As a matter of fact, they made a big point out of how Rawlings Industries has been carefully scrutinized and come out clean as a whistle.”
“I’d rather avoid any publicity, especially any connected to Catherine.”
“They’re adding Rawls to her name, now. The reporters are, I mean,” Courtney added.
“Isn’t that great?” Tony asked. “She’s going to spend, what was it? Five life sentences in prison, but she finally gets my grandfather’s name back. Ha!” Tony forced the laugh. “Think of all the lives that could have been spared if only they’d given her that honor years ago.”
Courtney reached out and touched Tony’s hand. “It’s over. It’s all over.”
His dark eyes clouded. “Not for thirty-four more months.”
“I know I’m here today as a friend, not your lawyer,” Brent said, “but let me remind you, you’ll go up for review in less than a year and then every six months after. There’s always a chance that it could be less.”
“And I could go batshit crazy, and it could be more.”
“Don’t say that, Tony,” Courtney said. When Tony smiled in her direction, she cocked her head to the side and asked, “What?”
“It’s dumb I suppose, but no one here calls me that. I think I miss it.”
“Well, Tony,” she said, emphasizing his name, “what else do you miss? What can we do to make this better?”
Though his expression didn’t change, Brent saw a spark of something in Tony’s eyes: a recognition or connection like he hadn’t seen in some time. “What is it? What did you just think of?”
Tony shook his head. “Damn, am I that easy to read? I didn’t used to be.” He paused and looked at Courtney. “I can’t tell you how much your letters have meant to me, especially the pictures. Thank you.”
“Of course, I’m glad to do it. Nichol is beautiful. You should be proud.”
“Of her, I am.”
“You have a lot to be proud of,” Brent offered.
“Thank you.” His gaze fixed on Courtney. “I can’t imagine not having the visits or your letters. That’s just who you are and always will be. Thank you for taking the time. I was wondering if I should continue to write to you at your home or if I should send your letters to your P.O. box in Chicago?”
Brent turned to his wife and watched as the color drained from Courtney’s cheeks. “What P.O. box?” he asked. Turning back to Tony, he continued his questioning, “What are you talking about?”
Tony’s tone was gentle, almost sad. “Thank you, Courtney. Thank you for being J. Findes.”
Tears fell from her eyes as Courtney tried to remain composed.
“Someone tell me what’s happening,” Brent demanded in a hushed tone.
“Y-you’re not mad?” Courtney asked.
Tony shook his head. “I probably would have been, but not now. Not only am I not mad, I’m happy. I failed her then. I didn’t realize how awful this was… and this place is better than where she was. I’m so glad you helped her.”
Courtney inhaled, trying to stifle her cries. “I never wanted to lie to you…” she turned to Brent “…either one of you. But I couldn’t… I just couldn’t…” her voice trailed away as she lowered her face.
The temperature of the room rose exponentially; Brent and Tony had come so far. It truly felt as though the two of them were friends, connected as never before. Was it right to leave deception between friends? Or would the truth separate what had finally been solidified?
“I’m not going to lie to you, Tony,” Brent confessed. “I knew about that. I didn’t know the name she used or where the address was, but I knew and I supported Courtney… and Claire.
Tony leaned back.
While Brent reached for Courtney’s hand, he saw the question in his wife’s moist blue eyes. Inhaling, Brent continued, “You’ve come clean with us. I guess it’s time to come clean with you. Just promise me that you won’t be upset with Claire.”
Tony’s brows knit together. “What are you talking about? Why would I be upset with Claire that you wrote to her in prison?” It was as if they watched the light bulb illuminate. The spark of understanding ignited a flame behind his eyes and Tony’s voice brimmed with emotion. “It was you… Oh, my God. You’re the ones who freed her.” This time he was the one to look away.
“Tony?” Court
ney implored. “It wasn’t against you. It was for her.”
At first Tony only shook his head; however, when he turned back, his eyes were red. “Thank you, for saving her. I understand. Two years ago, I might have been irate.” He scoffed. “I would have been—hell, I was, but things are different. What you did, the petition, the money… by freeing Claire, you gave me back my life.
“I’ve spoken to Roach, and I just don’t understand what’s happened to her. But if you can… if it is ever a possibility to save her again… I don’t care who you have to deceive… just please, for both of us, for Nichol… do it.”
Courtney wasn’t even trying to hide her tears. “I want to hug you so badly.”
Tony swallowed. “I wish you could.”
“Tony, she didn’t know—at first. Once she did, the only reason she kept it from you was for us.”
Tony reached out and covered Courtney’s hand with his own. His soft brown eyes were bordered in red. With his famous grin, he said, “We’re good. I’m not upset at all. I’m indebted to you.” He widened his grin. “About $100,000, I guess.”
Courtney shook her head. “No—”
“No you’re not,” Brent said. “And you’re not paying us back. You already have.”
Tony’s eyes widened, questioning.
“I’ve had a few raises over the last couple years. I figured I deserved them.”
Tony’s grin morphed into a full smile. “You do, my man, you do.”
Brent leaned forward and spoke quieter. “I may have some news you don’t yet know.”
“What?”
“Amber McCoy has been charged in connection with the death of Simon Johnson.”
The clouds over Tony’s dark eyes showed his processing. “I don’t understand. I thought the NTSB found no signs of tampering.”
Brent shrugged. “They haven’t released any more information, only that there was sufficient evidence to press charges.”
“What’s happening to SiJo?” Tony asked.
“I really don’t know.”
“Tell Tim to look into it immediately. As you know, this kind of shit makes it vulnerable.”
“What? Do you want to buy it? It could go under the Shedis-tics umbrella—”
“No,” Tony interrupted. “I want to help it. No matter how Amber and Harry lied to Claire, Claire cared about Simon and that company. Find out what they need.”
Courtney smiled.
“I’ll call Tim as soon as we leave,” Brent assured him.
Chapter Nineteen
A few weeks earlier—Mid-August 2015
Harry
My family is my strength and my weakness.
—Aishwarya Rai Bachchan
HARRY WATCHED FROM behind the glass, unseen by his sister or the officer from the California Bureau of Investigation. It was the same division where Harry had gotten his start in law enforcement—the same bureau that fueled his desire for justice. It was the same bureau that was now questioning his very own sister in regard to the senseless death of Simon Johnson.
SAC Williams patted Harry on the back. “I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry it all came to this.”
Harry nodded. Words weren’t forming without emotion. He was a damn FBI agent; crying wasn’t part of the job.
“You did the right thing. I know it may not seem like it at this moment, but the truth, the law, is always right.”
Inhaling deeply, Harry managed to say, “You’re right. It sure doesn’t feel like it at this moment.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“No. I have about a thousand texts and voicemails from Liz. She’s out in the waiting room going crazy. She doesn’t know I’m here.” He turned his sad blue eyes to his supervisor. “SAC? I don’t know how to do this. Do I come clean and tell her that I’m the one who…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
Williams reached for his arm. In the midst of turmoil, the point of contact was comforting. The older man had been as much of a father to Harry as his stepfather, and more of a father than the man who helped to create him. “That’s your call. I know that you’ll know what to say, if you do let her know you’re in on it. But remember, you weren’t the one who followed the phone trail. You didn’t dig up the text records or question the witnesses. You can’t take all the blame.”
Harry sighed. “I’m the one who put her on your radar. Without me, she would never have been discovered.”
“Think about your friend. Think about Mr. Johnson. Would that have been right for him? For his family?”
Harry had lain awake at night thinking about exactly that. “I can’t imagine the Johnsons. I mean, they still think of Amber like a daughter. They’re going to be devastated.”
“One fire at a time, son.”
Harry turned toward the window and wiped his eyes. He couldn’t hear what they were saying because he’d turned off the sound but he could tell by his sister’s expression that she was pleading her innocence. “She needs to shut up. I know we have the evidence, but she just needs to shut up!”
“Then go be a brother: a brother who’s also an agent. Tell her what she can do to make it better.”
Harry turned on his heels. “Nothing! She can’t do a damn thing to make it better. She killed Simon Johnson…” He shook his head. “…and it goes back to Claire. How does every damn thing go back to Claire? Simon’s obsession was what pissed Amber off so much. How could I be right here in San Francisco and hang out with them and not know?”
“Simon never mentioned Mrs. Rawlings?”
“He did, but not a lot. It was one of those things you say in passing. I’d get pissed at Liz about something and mention Ilona. He’d be pissed at Amber and mention Claire. She was his girlfriend in college—freshman year! That was forever ago. I remember thinking that it was weird that he’d gone so long without someone serious in his life. He chalked it up to devoting his energy to his work. That’s why he and Amber were so perfect. They met at Shedis-tics and she followed him to help with SiJo. They were friends before they became an item. I’m not sure Simon even saw her as girlfriend potential… for a while.” Harry shrugged. “I can’t testify to any of that. It’s what he said and she said. That was all before I moved back to California. Once I got here, they were definitely together. Other than a mention here and there of Claire to me, he seemed totally devoted to Amber.”
“So you didn’t know that he’d gone around the country to see her?”
Harry shook his head.
“Ms. Matherly knew.”
“We never talked about it.” Harry’s eyes widened. “What else does Liz know?”
“If you’re asking if we think she knew that your sister allegedly poisoned Mr. Johnson, we don’t. There’s no evidence—at this time—to suggest that. In an interview with the CBI, she mentioned that Mr. Johnson had an obsession with a person from his past and that upset Ms. McCoy. She claimed that his preoccupation was the only source of contention she’d ever witnessed between the two of them.”
Harry’s head shook slightly from side to side, allowing his too-long blonde hair to fall across his eyes. Pushing the unruly curls away, he said, “They all need to shut up.” He turned back to the window, just in time to see the officer exit the room, leaving Amber alone at the metal table.
Harry handed SAC Williams his phone. “Here, the damn thing’s going to explode if I get another message from Liz. Can you hold it for me while I go in there?”
Williams’ lips twitched into a slight smile. “You want me to hold your exploding phone?”
Harry grinned. “Yeah, thanks.”
When Harry opened the door, Amber’s head popped upward, and her tear-filled eyes looked directly at him. Instantaneously, her expression morphed to need. “Oh, thank God, Harry. You need to help me. They’re saying things that don’t make sense. They’re saying that I was involved in Simon’s death and that attack on you. Please… please…” she reached out to him “…tell me that you know I wouldn’t do that.”
&nbs
p; Walking toward his sister, she stood. Harry wrapped his arms around her, hugging her shuddering shoulders. He fought his own emotions as her tears dampened the cotton of his shirt. After a moment, he helped her to sit again and sat across from her. “Amber, they read you your Miranda rights, didn’t they?”
“Yes, but why? Why would they even think that I would—”
Harry interrupted, “You need to get a lawyer. Stop talking to them or even to me… I’m an agent—”
“I know what you are! You can help me. Find out who’s saying these vile things. Make this all stop. I loved Simon. I love you! I would never do anything to hurt…” her words faded into tears. Suddenly, her eyes opened wide. “I bet it’s that bitch. Claire Nichols! She’s the one saying these things about me! It’s not enough for her to have her billionaire jailbird and you, but she wouldn’t let Simon go either. She tried to kill Rawlings. I bet she found out that Simon and I were engaged and she tried to…” Her anger turned to sadness. “…no, she didn’t try. She succeeded in killing him.”
“She isn’t telling anyone anything. You sound delusional.”
“No!” She stood. “You don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like to have someone who you love willing to travel all over the damn country to get one last chance with a woman he hadn’t even talked to in years! Years!”
“Stop,” Harry said calmly.
“No! I’m not stopping. You need to know what she’s capable of doing. Hell, you know, don’t you? She has some kind of power over men. I don’t understand it. I mean it’s not her looks and definitely not her brains.” Her eyes widened. “Emily said she’s having issues. Well, she’s crazy if she thinks she can tell the world lies about me!”
“Amber, stop talking. Everything you say can be used against you—”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why, Harry? Are you going to tell them what I say?” She looked around, turning until she faced the window. “Or are they watching?” She walked to the darkened glass and turned back. “Are you in here as my brother or an agent?”
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 190
