Tony reminded himself that it was the right thing to do, as he kissed Claire good-bye, saw her disappear into a car, and watched Eric drive away towards Rawlings Industries’ private airport. Although he wanted to accompany her, Tony feared that once he was at the airport, he’d want to fly with her. Then, once in California, he wouldn’t want to leave without her.
Only five days.
It was his new mantra, until it was four, then three…
Trying to concentrate on work and catch up with Roach and Andrews on all things private detective, Tony heard his phone buzz and checked the text message. It was from Claire:
“THANK YOU FOR A LOVELY WEEKEND. I’M SO THANKFUL I WAS ABLE TO ATTEND THE WEDDING.”
Tony responded:
“I HOPE THAT WAS NOT THE ONLY PART OF THE WEEKEND YOU ENJOYED?”
Seconds later, Claire replied:
“I BELIEVE THERE WERE OTHER PARTS TOO. BUT SINCE YOUR PLANE IS MOVING, I NEED TO TURN OFF MY PHONE—CAN’T ELABORATE.”
Grinning, he sent one more message, hoping to catch her before her phone was off:
“OH, BUT HOW I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO ELABORATE!”
He waited. When she didn’t respond, Tony knew that Claire was en route to California.
Five more days!
Simultaneously, Tony carried on another text conversation with Phillip Roach. Interestingly, it was occurring between where he was and where Claire would soon be—Palo Alto:
Anthony Rawlings (AR):
“WHAT NEW INFORMATION DO YOU HAVE RE: BREAK-IN?”
Phillip Roach (PR):
“BUILDING SECURITY TO SEND ME ENLARGED IMAGE OF PERP—WILL FORWARD AS SOON AS I RECEIVE. NOT CLEAR ENOUGH TO BE USED WITH RECOGNITION SOFTWARE.”
(AR):
“SEND VIA E-MAIL, EASIER TO ENLARGE ON MY END.”
(AR):
“MS. NICHOLS WILL ARRIVE PALO ALTO AFTER 6:00 PM, PST. KEEP HER IN YOUR VIEW UNTIL SAFELY RETURNED TO HER CONDO. ARE YOUR SENSORS IN PLACE?”
(PR):
“YES, SIR. MS. MCCOY JUST EXITED UNIT.”
(AR):
“SHE IS GOING OUT OF TOWN.”
(PR):
“HER FLIGHT PLAN IS FOR LOS ANGLES WITH RETURN FLIGHT THURSDAY.” Phil obviously wanted to show that he knew what was happening.
(AR):
“KEEP ME CONSTANTLY APPRISED.”
(PR):
“YES, SIR.”
Sitting behind his large mahogany desk, Tony tried in vain to read the documents on his computer. The words entered his mind and disappeared before he digested their meaning. His gaze fluttered between the ultrasound picture Claire had left and the clock in the corner of his monitor. Finally, his cell phone sounded and vibrated upon the smooth, glossy surface. Hastily, he swiped the screen—1 Text Message Claire:
“JUST LANDED. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR EVERYTHING. I SLEPT THE ENTIRE FLIGHT… VERY COMFORTABLE WITHOUT ALL THAT RECYCLED AIR!”
He smiled at her cheekiness. Maybe the recycled air was a stretch, but he’d undoubtedly preferred to have her in Iowa as opposed to California. Nevertheless, they’d made progress this weekend. They both knew it. His phone sounded and vibrated again—1 Text Message Phillip Roach:
“MS. NICHOLS’ PLANE JUST LANDED. MR. BALDWIN WAITING AND LUGGAGE BEING PUT INTO HIS CAR. I WILL FOLLOW.”
The muscles in Tony’s neck tightened. Does picking her up at the airport constitute a date? Tony tried to tell himself it didn’t. Besides, would he rather have her in a taxi with some stranger? They’d spent four days together, made love on three different occasions, and had a baby on the way. While reasoning words went through his thoughts, the clenched jaws and tightened shoulders revealed the jealousy coursing through his veins.
Tony replied to Phillip Roach:
“KEEP HER IN SIGHT. LET ME KNOW IF THERE ARE ANY STOPS ON THE WAY TO THE CONDO. WHERE IS THAT PICTURE?”
Text message number two, to Claire:
“OUR AGREEMENT FORBIDS PUBLIC EXPOSURE WITH ANYONE ELSE! I THOUGHT I’D MADE THAT CLEAR! WE HAVE AN UNDERSTANDING!”
Exclamation marks were so overused in text messages—Tony hesitated. Once sent, he wouldn’t be able to retrieve it. He repeatedly hit the backspace and typed once again:
“I’M GLAD THE AIR WAS TO YOUR LIKING. REMEMBER OUR AGREEMENT. CALL WHEN YOU’RE SETTLED.”
The restraint was difficult, but he knew he wasn’t going to win her back without effort. Although the damn press would have a field day if they saw her with Baldwin, Tony reminded himself to do what he’d told her to do—trust.
Exhaling, he tried. It wasn’t easy, especially since he’d never done it before.
The sound and vibration announced another incoming text message. This one was from Phillip Roach:
“THE PICTURE WAS SENT TO YOUR EMAIL. LET ME KNOW IF YOU DON’T HAVE IT.”
Shit, Tony had been trying to read the acquisition documents and forgot to check his email. He switched screens. There was the email from Roach with an attachment. Opening the attachment, Tony looked at the grainy photo. The poor quality was undoubtedly due too many enlarging attempts. Tony pushed his leather chair away from the screen, and tried to focus and refine the image before him. It was a man with little to no hair. Was he older and balding or younger with his head shaved? Looking closer, Tony guessed he was older. Normally, Tony was excellent with names and faces, and he saw a hint of familiarity. Perhaps it had been a long time since he’d seen him, or maybe the man had been on television or in the news? Regardless, the twinge of recognition bothered Tony. Why would someone he recognized steal Claire’s laptop?
Two more text messages came through his cell phone. The first one, from Claire:
“I DO. I WILL LATER.”
Tony exhaled. It took every fiber of self-restraint to not get on another plane and bring her home.
Second message, from Phillip Roach:
“DID YOU GET THE EMAIL? I CAN RESEND.”
Tony replied:
“I DID. KEEP CONSTANT SURVEILLANCE. I DON’T LIKE THIS.”
About ten minutes later, Roach texted again:
“MS NICHOLS ARRIVED AT CONDO. NO STOPS ON WAY.”
Tony breathed a sigh of relief. She could follow his rules. Five more days…
Tony’s cell phone rang. The screen read PHILLIP ROACH. Panic bubbled below the surface as he answered. “Hello, Rawlings h—”
Roach’s words came fast, sounding as if he were yelling and running at the same time. “I just read my sensors. She’s in her unit and it was opened twenty minutes ago.”
“What the hell do you mean it was opened twenty minutes ago? I thought Amber was gone? Roach? Roach! Answer me, God-damn-it!”
Instead of answering, Tony heard Roach speaking with someone on the other end. “Has anyone been to unit 4A recently?” Roach repeated himself louder. “The unit that was broken into last week—has anyone been up there?”
Tony’s world, which only hours ago had been a slice of heaven, plunged into the depths of hell. Not only was his worst nightmare coming true, but from thousands of miles away he was powerless to stop it. Tony continued to scream into the phone, “Get to her. Someone get to her now!”
From his earpiece he heard voices: “Yes, there was a delivery. The man had the appropriate documents.”
“Is this the man?”
“I don’t know. He had documents. Yeah, maybe… he was bald.”
“Call 911 and get me up there right away!”
Tony heard everything, yet could do nothing. How long would it take to get up four flights? He disconnected from Roach and scrolled through his contacts, finding Harrison Baldwin. Tony hit CALL.
After three rings, the call went to voice mail. Tony disconnected and called again. This time Baldwin answered. Tony didn’t wait for pleasantries. “Mr. Baldwin, this is Anthony Rawlings. Go to Claire’s unit immediately. You have to listen to me. Someone’s in there and she’s not safe.”
When Baldwin didn’t respond, Tony continued, his voice lo
uder by the second as he screamed in desperation. “Damn it! I know you can hear me! I know you just drove her home! Go to her—before it’s too late!”
“Is this some kind of joke? How would you know—”
“Please! Please, Mr. Baldwin, there’s no time to lose.” Tony believed his chest would explode as he pleaded with this man thousands of miles away. Tony never should have let Claire go, not now, now that he knew about the baby. If anything happened…
Baldwin had responded and Tony heard commotion. It was the most helpless he’d felt in his entire life. Did he hear Claire? Was there a scream?
Catherine came rushing in. “What’s happening? Why are you yelling—”
Tony silenced her with his eyes as he continued to listen in horror. The echoing of an explosion came through the phone. What was it? Was it a gunshot? Tony couldn’t ask. The phone went dead.
Tears threatened Tony’s eyes as he looked at Catherine and said, “Oh my God, I don’t know.” He called Eric and told him to get him to the airport. “Yes, I know my jet isn’t back from California. I don’t give a damn—I’m flying to Palo Alto immediately.” Before he finished with Eric, Roach’s call came through.
Trepidatiously, Tony answered. “Roach, tell me she isn’t dead.”
“Sir, she’s not dead. The perpetrator is.”
Tony exhaled as the cyclone of impotence gave way to relief; however, it was short-lived and rage prevailed. “How in the hell did you let this happen? Tell me what’s going on there!”
Tony listened as Roach replayed the scene. A man, the same man from the picture, was in Claire’s unit. At this moment, neither his identity nor intentions were known; however, he’d accosted Ms. Nichols, who was currently being treated by paramedics. She was unconscious and it appeared as though they were taking her to the Stanford Medical Center. The assailant was shot by the building security guard and died on site. Roach promised to learn more.
“I want answers and I want them yesterday.”
You have to dream before your dreams can come true.
—Abdul Kalam
The entire way to the airport, Tony barked orders. He called Brent and told him to hire someone new: Roach was finished. After his epic fail, Tony didn’t intend to employ him another hour, much less a day. Tony needed people he could depend upon—Phillip Roach was obviously not one of them. Tony wanted information about this assailant: was he working alone? What did he want? Tony also called Baldwin. Though the conversation was short, Harrison confirmed Claire’s location as the Stanford Medical Center and assured Tony that she had a solid support system, including Emily and John, who were on their way.
Tony called the Palo Alto police and the emergency room at the hospital. By the time his company plane left Iowa, he was no closer to learning anything. Repeatedly, he was informed that he had no legal right to Ms. Nichols’ private information. Tony wanted to scream, “Fine! But what about my child—I have the right to know if my child is all right.” The only thing stopping him, keeping him from proclaiming his impending parenthood, was the fear of their answer. How badly had this man hurt her? Would she survive? Had their baby?
When he landed, Brent sent him the contact information on a new investigator, Clay Winters, ex-secret service. Tony immediately contacted him and explained the situation. He emphasized that regardless of his legal rights, he wanted answers and he wanted Claire protected. Clay went to work, while Tony found a small visitor’s lounge a floor away from Claire’s room and set up a home base.
One of Claire’s attending nurses agreed to enlighten Tony when Claire regained consciousness. Tony asked about Claire’s condition, her prognosis—anything! The nurse wouldn’t give any more answers. Apparently, a Do Not Disclose order had been put into place. No information regarding Claire Nichols was to be leaked by staff or the hospital without a hefty fine and promised legal action. The nurse agreed to accept Tony’s money, but refused to risk her job or the hospital’s reputation with anything further.
Answers slowly trickled in regarding the incident. When Tony read that the assailant’s name was Patrick Chester, all of the air left his lungs. He knew the man was familiar; however, it’d been over twenty-five years since he’d last seen him. According to the information, Chester had planned to kidnap Claire and ransom her to Tony. It didn’t make sense. How did Chester know about his connection to Claire? How did he know that the same man who’d been paying him for all of these years was Anthony Rawlings?
As hour after hour passed, Tony’s impotence wore on him. He was so close, yet so far. He didn’t want to think about Claire’s accident or compare the circumstances; however, the similarities screamed for acknowledgement. Almost three years earlier, she’d been in a similar situation and so had he. Tony remembered Dr. Leonard asking him to leave the room. His exact words echoed in his mind: Mr. Rawlings, she is not related to you. We must allow her some privacy. Those words continued to haunt him. Once again, he wasn’t related —yes, that was his doing, and he regretted it more than anything in his life, but it was still the truth.
The question that tumbled through his mind, resurfacing at the most inopportune times was did she lose the baby? When she told him that she was pregnant, Tony didn’t know what to say or do. When he took her to the meadow and explained, it wasn’t truly to say he wanted a child, only that he was unsure—Claire had used the word scared. Truthfully, in the meadow he was unsure; now, he was frightened. Tony didn’t only fear the loss of the child; he told himself repeatedly they would survive as a couple, and if Claire wanted children—fine, they’d try again. What he feared, as hours turned to another day, were his memories of after Claire’s accident and before her breakdown on the front porch. Those weeks preoccupied his thoughts.
As soon as Tony returned from work, he met Catherine in his office for an update on Claire’s condition. Unfortunately, after over two weeks of consciousness, her activities were virtually the same from day to day. She’d eaten two meals, although Catherine mentioned that she’d eaten very little of those two meals. After bathing and dressing, she napped. After lunch and reading, she napped. Catherine assured him that she was now awake and waiting for his arrival.
Tony approached the door to her suite with a combination of anticipation and dread. If only he’d find her talking and flitting around the suite as she used to; instead, he feared he’d find what he’d found the day before, and the one before that. Slowly, Tony opened the door and spotted Claire on the sofa. She was reading, or pretending to read. Silently, he watched as her eyes drifted toward the fireplace and stared. The reflection of the flames was the only spark of life he’d witnessed since she woke.
Securing a smile, he opened the door further and announced his presence. “Good evening, Claire,” he said, as lightheartedly as he could manage.
When she turned, her dead gaze met his and her lips obediently move upward. “Good evening, Tony. Is it that late already?”
Kissing her cheek, he assessed the woman before him. She was dressed impeccably with her hair and makeup flawless. “You look lovely tonight. Obviously, you knew it was time for dinner.”
Lifting the blanket that covered her legs, Claire gazed at her attire. With no emotion, she replied, “Oh, yes, that’s right. Now, I remember.”
Offering his hand, he asked, “Won’t you join me? You’re too beautiful to keep in this suite. Besides, you must be tired of these four walls. Let’s go to the dining room.”
The stillness of the flat green gave way to an instant of panic before settling again into nothingness. “Tony, I’d rather stay here, if that’s all right with you. The dining room is so far away.”
He didn’t argue that night or even the next few. It wasn’t until almost November before he convinced her to leave the suite. Then, slowly, he made more progress. First, it was the dining room, then the sunporch, eventually they made it outside. Even the fresh air didn’t bring back the sparkling emerald he craved. Tony tried gifts. It didn’t seem to matter if it was an inex
pensive scarf, a newly released book that she’d been anticipating, or jewels valued in the thousands of dollars—though her lips smiled, her eyes remained dead.
That was why he’d talked to Courtney about a visit with her and Brent. Tony had hoped that taking her anywhere would help. He never expected that it would be the practice drive that would bring her back to life.
What if when Claire woke and if their baby was gone—what if her eyes were once again dead? With each hour, Tony promised he’d move heaven and earth to assure the spark of life in her eyes. If it meant he had to walk the gauntlet of her family and friends, he’d do it. Whatever she wanted, he would do.
His phone rang. “Anthony Rawlings,” he answered.
“Sir, she’s awake.” Tony’s heart leapt. “The doctor is with her now.” The line went dead. Seconds later a text came through from Clay:
“THE DOCTOR LEFT MS. NICHOLS’ ROOM. SHE IS AWAKE. HER FAMILY AND FRIENDS ARE HERE.”
Tony didn’t know if they would all be in her room or not—it didn’t matter, he was going in. As he approached he saw his ex-in-laws by her door. John was the first to see him. The combination of hatred and shock in John’s gaze fueled Tony’s determined steps. Tony wasn’t stopping until he was in Claire’s room. He couldn’t. He had to see her—see her eyes—and know that she was all right. He needed to be near her, to take her hand and promise more children.
“You are not welcome here,” John proclaimed, as he stepped in front of the door. “I can’t believe you would have the nerve to show your face after all you’ve done.”
Tony saw Clay sitting inconspicuously in a nearby waiting area and shook his head in his direction. He would handle this on his own. Ignoring the daggered stares of his ex-sister-in-law, Tony stopped within a few feet of John. “I want to see her.”
“I don’t care what you want. I don’t even know how you learned that she’s awake, but you’re not going near her.”