TRUTH
Aleatha Romig
TRUTH REVIEWS
What an exhilarating ride! The players in this game of Truth were intense and charismatic, although new people were introduced our old favorites we love to hate got plenty of face-time, namely Tony. If you like a twisty plot with loads of mysteries around every corner, then Truth is a must-read! It’s a thrilling and thought-provoking psychological thriller at its best! The wait for the final installment is going to be agonizing…2014 cannot come soon enough… Bookie Nookie - Bookie Nookie Reviews and The Romance Reviews
As I read Truth I was amazed by the storytelling ability of Ms. Romig. This is a complex and involved tale, full of tension and drama that will keep you turning the pages. I am not giving any plot details as I don't want to spoil it for everyone. What I will say is that if you enjoyed Consequences. This one is even better IMO. And I believe that there is to be a further addition to this series next year. I can hardly wait! Linda Sims – Top 1000 Amazon UK Reviewers
COPYRIGHT AND LICENSE INFORMATION
Published by Aleatha Romig
Author’s Edition 2012
Copyright © 2012 Aleatha Romig
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either
are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and
any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.
This book is available in print from most on line retailers
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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Reviews
Copyright & License Information
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Afterward
Convicted
Aleatha Romig
Acknowledgements
Continued appreciation to my patient family! Thank you for allowing me to pursue my dream and spend hour after hour living in a world created upon my well-worn, slightly damp laptop! (a few tears and some wine!)
A million thank yous to my prized group of readers! Val, Heather, Sherry, Kelli, and Angie... TRUTH would not have materialized as it did without your help. Your honest comments and opinions along with your time and energy helped me in ways I can never express!
Thank you to the many readers of CONSEQUENCES. It may be because I’m new at this, or because I care, but I have read every review and have seen every rating. It thrills me to learn readers feel as passionate about my characters as I do. Hopefully, the twists and turns of TRUTH will be as enthralling and unexpected as those in CONSEQUENCES.
My very last acknowledgement is to Claire Nichols and Anthony Rawlings... never in my wildest dreams did I expect your story to find its way into the hearts of so many!
Be prepared, their saga will continue with CONVICTED, due out the end of 2013!
It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world.
- Chaos Theory
Prologue
July 2011...
The tires of their Chevy Equinox bounced along the worn pavement and dilapidated surface of Bristol Road. Peering through the windshield at the signs of a dying city, Rich Bosley wondered if this was how the old west felt when the gold rush ended. Acres and acres of fenced concrete occupied each side of the decrepit street. At one time during Flint, Michigan’s prime, cars filled these parking lots twenty-four hours a day. Three shifts of workers came and went from these factories. Today it represented urban decay at its utmost.
In 1908 General Motors opened their newly founded headquarters in Flint. Generations of workers walked through the doors; each generation believed theirs would do better than the one before. The tides turned with the oil crisis of the seventies and the nationwide plant closings of the eighties.
But, like rain to the parched ground, optimism returned to Flint at the turn of the century. GM invested 60 million dollars to upgrade the plant. Over 2,000 hourly workers and 180 salaried workers frequented the building they passed. Honest work for honest pay. This blue collar haven once again bustled with activity.
Then during the latter part of the first decade, the auto industry suffered collapse. Some plants scheduled for closing were saved by private investors. Businessmen and women gave hope where hope was lost. These saviors required assistance. Workers agreed to lesser wages. The dream for better became a need for anything. Michigan’s government granted tax breaks in the supreme effort to keep the factories open and give people purpose.
The tax breaks expired. Workers were asked to accept even lower wages. It was inconsequential; the economy couldn’t support the product. Only the bottom line mattered. With no incentive to keep the doors open, men and women in insulated executive offices, miles away, made lofty decisions. The result filled Rich’s view: building upon empty building, decaying skeletons of what once was.
Rich thought about his father’s recent proposal. The prospect of moving back to Iowa felt like defeat. After all, was the banking business better in Iowa than in Michigan? The economy was a national issue. Rich and his wife, Sarah, had faith in this city. They were willing to work to make it better for their son and children to come.
Rich peered to his right and smiled at his lovely wife engrossed in her magazine. “How can you read with all of these bumps?” Her normally styled hair hung from the opening in her baseball cap, a
nd her business attire replaced with jeans and a Tiger’s t-shirt. It was their son’s first year of baseball, rookie league. It was more about learning team work than learning baseball. However, if you ask the players, it was more about snacks. Sarah provided homemade cupcakes -- a homerun!
“I’m just so amazed by this article.”
“What are you reading?”
“Vanity Fair. It’s the cover story from a couple months ago. I forgot I’d left the magazine in here. I just found it.” Rich nodded; he wasn’t interested. “It’s about Anthony Rawlings and his wife. Didn’t your dad go to their wedding?”
“Yes, I think so. It’s one of the perks of being Richard Bosley, the great governor of Iowa. You get to smooze with big donors.”
“I remember him mentioning it. It sounds amazing.” Sarah rambled, “The wedding was at their estate. So that means your dad went to their estate?”
“I guess. I’m honestly not impressed.”
“Why not? It sounds like they’re both involved in charity work. Did you know his wife was a bartender when he met her?”
“The man makes his money harming other people.”
“It doesn’t sound like that. It sounds like an amazing love story. Can you imagine, being an out of work meteorologist, working as a bartender, and falling in love with one of the countries billionaires?”
“Again, where did those billions come from?”
“It says something about the internet.”
“Yes. According to my father that’s where it started. Anthony Rawlings has managed to take that start and feed off of the unfortunate circumstances of others. He’s personally unemployed enough people to fill these factories.”
“He also employs enough people to fill these factories.” Sarah peered at the barren landscape. “I think people are just jealous. I mean, I could be. What woman wouldn’t love to suddenly have Claire Rawlings’ life?”
The sound of their son’s voice refocused the couple’s thoughts. Instead of dwelling on urban decay and the nation’s economy, Rich saw the blond hair of hope in the backseat. “Dad, I need to pee.” Ryan pleaded wide eyed at his dad in the rearview mirror.
“Ryan, we’ll be home in a few minutes. You can wait.”
“No, Dad, I can’t. I gots to pee now!”
Rich’s eyes met his wife’s. Her expression said everything he already knew; this wasn’t the neighborhood to stop. If they could just drive a little further. However, Ryan’s voice whined and his little legs fidgeted with need. “I see a gas station. Stop, pl-ea-se.” The last word elongated into three extended syllables.
Against his better judgment Richard Bosley II, turned the Equinox into a parking space outside of a Speedway. He turned to his wife, “I’ll go in with him. Besides, it’s the middle of the day, and it doesn’t look busy.”
Sarah smiled and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Okay guys, let’s get this over with and back on the road. We have a baseball game to watch. I recorded the whole thing. Ryan, wait until you see yourself get that great hit!”
A film of smudge and finger prints plastered the heavy glass doors. Rich scanned the interior looking for the sign indicating a restroom. The odor of hot dogs cooked to the firmness of rubber permeated their senses. Merchandise sat sparsely upon shelves that packed the room, leaving no discernible path. The dirt and scuffs upon the cracked linoleum were the true indicators of foot traffic. Looking to the cashier, Rich noticed the small unsecured cubical. He scanned the glass square for help, but saw only empty chairs. Then he noticed the open drawer of the cash register.
“Dad, I see the sign.” Ryan’s voice cut the thick silent air.
Suddenly, a commotion of racket resonated from the hallway containing the bathrooms. Some moments hang suspended in time as if the electrons slow, protons release their pull, and atoms no longer cement into matter; for example, the second a newborn baby releases its first cry. Some instants occur in a flash; like lightening refusing capture upon film. Others are an amalgamation.
A thick man moved toward them, his face concealed behind a black ski mask. Rich’s first thought, it’s July, why would you wear a ski mask? was only a blimp before the realization of their situation, “Run! Back to the car!” The words cascaded from his lips with alarm and authority.
Preoccupied with the search of her purse, Sarah’s husband’s tone propelled her to flight. She seized her son’s small hand and spun toward the smudged glass door. The echoing pop of gunfire erupted so abruptly she never saw her husband fall and thankfully neither did Ryan. The last thing either of them saw was the shower of red as their blood added another dimension to the filth on the floor and windows.
Months earlier and miles away a business executive chose to close a stamping plant no longer showing profits. That one decision resulted in thousands of unemployed workers. One of which was a father with a sick child and no wife. In a moment of desperation the out of work father decided his only option to pay the mounting medical bills and save his son, was crime. A few robberies later, with money too attractive and too easy, he had a new profession…
There is no limit to what a man can do, or where he can go,
if he does not mind who gets the credit.
- Charles Edward Montague
Chapter 1
Looking around his office, Richard Bosley I contemplated his place in history. The stately office reeked of prestige. Impressive bookshelves covered the walls, and his mahogany desk created a platform of regality. The flags of both the United States and Iowa hung conspicuously behind his leather chair. Only fifteen months into his second term as governor, he had so many goals to accomplish. The voters rallied around him after the tragic death of his only son and his family. They put their trust in him, in his ideas, and in his values. Staring at the family photo of him with his son, daughter-in-law, and grandson, he questioned his own values. Perhaps they’d been too lofty. Perhaps if he had stayed out of public office... things would have been different.
The cold March Iowa wind blew outside the window and created a low howl through the insulated panes. Seeing his reflection against the black night sky, Richard Bosley I knew the truth: “perhapses” meant nothing! His family was gone and his third round of chemo would start tomorrow. The second round took his hair and energy. The third may very well take his life. If it didn’t, the cancer surely would. Seeing his gaunt reflection and viewing his hands, he saw the gray pallor. His skin was merely an oversized casing, loosely hanging over his bones. It reminded him how life wasn’t fair. He prayed death would be.
Richard Bosley I would officially resign as governor of Iowa at a press conference scheduled for tomorrow at noon. The lieutenant governor, Sheldon Preston, would immediately be sworn in office for the remaining term. Tonight, alone in the executive office, Governor Bosley chose to make decisions. He had nothing left to lose. To hell with the executive board; tonight the only opinion that mattered was his.
Who can truly say if good done for the wrong reason was still good? Right now, his soul told him to take another look. Do not leave this place of power without knowing you’ve done all that you can do. Easing himself into the splendid leather chair, he decided to do just that. History would write itself.
The stack of petitions for pardon were discussed, debated, and decreased. The news of his impending resignation spurred many requests. The executive board reviewed the multiple petitions for pardon and decided upon ten. Ten applicants now serving time in one of Iowa’s penitentiaries who would soon be free. Ten people, who tomorrow would be informed their verdict was overturned and their sentence was over. Governor Bosley eyed the stack of pages to his left. Within that stack were eleven other people. According to the board of review, these inmates would remain in prison. They would serve out their sentences as handed down by the mighty and lofty judges of this great state.
With trembling hands, more from the chemicals within his veins than emotion, Governor Bosley reviewed the stack of prisoners destined to remain behind bars for the eter
nity of their sentence.
The lists of offenses varied: rapists, burglars, prostitutes. Somehow through the diseased cells infiltrating his brain, Richard remembered his quest. One more time he leafed through the stack. Finally, he found the name he sought. Yes, she’d been married to Anthony Rawlings. Hell, he attended their wedding. Suddenly, Richard Bosley’s mouth formed a grin. There had been so few reasons to smile lately. The facial muscles would soon tire, but he enjoyed the brief euphoria.
He reread the file: Claire Nichols - no contest plea to the charge of attempted murder, thus not officially found guilty. Good behavior since incarceration. No marks of disobedience. No prior offenses. Sentenced to seven years. Served fourteen months. With the multitude of sins represented by the prisoners already scheduled for pardon, Governor Bosley could question why the executive board allowed this woman to remain in prison. However, he knew. The board consisted of five individuals of political power or at least promise in Iowa, and each served a four year term. Everyone knew, success in Iowa wasn’t found by crossing Anthony Rawlings.
Richard Bosley I found himself with the rare opportunity to avenge his son’s death. Dealing with politicians and individuals like Anthony Rawlings taught him many things. Closing his eyes, he saw the esteemed businessman smiling, shaking hands, and making promises. However, Governor Bosley knew Rawlings’ decision to close that plant in Flint, Michigan, cost dearly. It may not be Christian to seek revenge, but looking at the page before him, he pondered how anyone but God could present him this opportunity.
Without a second thought, Governor Richard Bosley signed his name to the bottom of the petition. He took the official Iowa stamp and made the document legal. Yes, the original ten names of prisoners receiving pardons were already released to the press. It would be all right. The newspapers would momentarily miss this great human interest story: “State Official Rights a Wrong and Releases Ex-wife of Top Executive from Prison.” The newspaper wouldn’t miss the aftermath. Richard Bosley I was confident Mr. Rawlings’s publicist would somehow spin this in his direction. However, just maybe, by avoiding the first list of pardons, Ms. Nichols would have the opportunity to write her own story.