Convicted

  Before Tony left the clandestine meeting with Agent Jackson, he made one request. Tony asked that Brent not be informed of this new reality. It was one of the few unselfish moves Tony had ever made for Brent. It was strange how, when faced with the possibility of never seeing him again, Tony finally saw the friend Brent had been. This non-disclosure was a gift. If things turned out badly, and if undisclosed truths became evident, then Tony didn’t want Brent suffering the consequences. Agent Jackson promised to continue the ruse.

  With his newly-issued government identity, Tony made it to the airport with a ticket in hand. After passing security, he slipped from the terminal, and with a newly purchased phone, he contacted the only man Tony knew, without a doubt, would respond. He didn’t consider it breaking the FBI’s rules—Tony considered it playing by his own rules—the way he’d always lived his life.

  Tony’s requests to Eric were simple: money from the safe—not enough to raise suspicion—the key to the safety deposit box, and his alternative identifications. In case Eric was being tracked, Tony told him to also use alternative identification. As Tony predicted, Eric didn’t question Tony’s directives or motives—he never had.

  Tony did keep the FBI issued phone—for a little while. After purchasing an international disposable phone—with the government given credit card—he texted the new number to the only contact listed within the FBI phone. Tony knew too well that phones could be tracked, and he was pretty confident the phone he’d been given was a constant beep on someone’s radar. Leaving the phone in a bathroom in New York State, that beep would now remain stagnant. As Eric drove him across the U.S. border into Canada, Tony received a text:

  “WE’LL ASSUME THIS IS OUR NEW CONTACT NUMBER?”

  Tony grinned—they’d given him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He’d replied with a statement of non-compliance. Their cooperation within his parameters wasn’t a win, but it was something. Right now, Tony would take that. With a grin, he replied:

  “YES” and hit SEND

  The cover story—the small plane’s emergency landing in the mountains—was completely fabricated by the authorities. Tony didn’t even know he’d supposedly chartered a plane, or that it landed unexpectedly until he heard the news. The length the FBI was willing to go for this case proved to him that it was something much bigger than it appeared. Like an iceberg, Tony believed he’d only been allowed to see a small portion. As far as he was concerned, that was fine. They’d created a cover story, which allowed him to do the one thing he wanted to do. He was now free to assess the table, determine the odds, and decide—for himself—what cards he should play. He was free to search for Claire.

  Flying from Montreal to Brnik, Slovenia, Tony then took buses and trains in a non-direct route toward Geneva. Before he could start his full-out search for his ex-wife, Tony needed money. The days ran together as they were filled with cheap transportation and accommodations. Every nonstrategic thought was dominated by Claire and their child. During the course of his exodus, Tony concluded her disappearance was somehow related to the gifts and letters they’d received on the estate. Although the thought hadn’t occurred to him before, Tony found it interesting that the mailings stopped after her disappearance. Tony hoped and prayed that if Claire were truly running of her own free will, that she was ahead of—not with—the asshole who’d sent the threatening packages and tried to run her and Clay off the road. As his thoughts ran together, Tony also worried about her finances. He didn’t want Claire and his child living in conditions like he was enduring. Hundreds of times a day, he’d question why. Did she plan to leave and if she did, why would she do so without money? As much as he wanted her safe, Tony couldn’t wrap his mind around her being alive and talking to the FBI. None of it made sense.

  As he planned his return to financial freedom, Tony felt a trace of guilt. It was true, he’d always been the one to move and invest the money, but truthfully, half of it belonged to Catherine. Tony knew Nathaniel entrusted him to take care of her. Taking this money without disclosure seemed wrong; nevertheless, he reminded himself, half did belong to him. Catherine was safe in Iowa, sleeping in his house with access to more of his money. Honestly, the feeling of guilt didn’t last long.

  His indirect trail to Geneva was planned and plotted. He had enough cash to lay low and watch things unfold. He wasn’t using the federal credit card; it was too obviously a means to track him. Tony was listening to his instincts—they’d served him well in the past. Throughout his life, he’d accomplished many goals. Those goals took time and patience, and without exception, they were all done his way. His extremely high rate of success was proof of his own abilities. Tony didn’t see a reason to change his strategy. Despite the FBI’s directives, this endeavor would be on his terms, and his terms alone.

  The financial institution in Geneva was his ace-in-the-hole, one of the cards he didn’t reveal. With his current plan, the institution wouldn’t be reached for at least another week. He’d love to move faster; however, perseverance was essential to his plan. His profile was low; he maintained anonymity, even if it was with his own false identity and not the one provided for him. He was also doing what he said—traveling. After his financial reserves were accessed, he’d continue to travel; however, at that time, his goal would be to find Claire. The money would make all of it more tolerable.

  With Agent Jackson’s words replaying in his mind, Tony vowed that after he had his money and located his family, he’d learn more about Agent Jackson’s innuendos. What did the FBI know or think they knew? What was meant by ‘one of our own?’ Though he was a master at multitasking, his current situation required his full attention. Tony pushed the agent’s words away—he had more pressing matters consuming his thoughts.

  Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.

  —Albert Einstein

  Meredith’s Journal:

  June 24, 2016

  Finally! It’s been almost two weeks since Claire collapsed in the cafeteria. Since I don’t have clearance to go anywhere except the cafeteria and kitchen, I haven’t been able to learn anything about her progress. That was until today; it was after the lunch, before dinner that a few patients and visitors were sitting in the dining room, talking when I noticed Claire and Emily enter the dining room. They were traveling that same path from the outside toward the residential wing.

  I only glanced momentarily; Emily was scanning the room with her eagle eyes! Damn, that woman is suspicious of her own shadow! I turned away just as she looked in my direction. Good thing! If she’d recognized me, then it would have made the last three weeks a complete waste of time.

  It was after I turned away that I received my first tidbit of information. At the time, I was delivering coffee to Ms. Juewelz and her visitor who’d left the room for a few minutes. Ms. Juewelz has been at Everwood on and off for years. I’m not sure of her exact diagnosis, but if gossiping were a possibility, I’d put my money on that! Even in my short time getting to know some of the residents, I’ve realized that Ms. Juewelz seems to have her finger on the pulse of Everwood.

  “Can I get you any cream or sweetener?” Meredith asked, as she placed the ceramic mugs on the table.

  Ms. Juewelz spoke, her voice barely a whisper, “You’re smart to turn away from that woman. She’d probably have you fired if she thought you were looking at them.” At first, Meredith wasn’t registering Ms. Juewelz’ words; it wasn’t uncommon for some of the residents to speak about something completely off base from what was said to them.

  Keeping her eyes diverted, Meredith watched Emily lead Claire hurriedly along the edge of the dining room. Neither woman seemed to be talking. She tried to read Claire’s expression; however, all she noticed were Claire’s eyes remaining downcast, avoiding everything as she walked with her arm linked in the crook of her sister’s elbow. Refocusing on Ms. Juewelz, Meredith asked, “Why, who is she?”

  “She was the wife of that rich guy—
but no one can say his name. That woman with her is her sister. She’s super protective, but it’s a pain in the ass! I mean, everyone here deserves confidentiality, but that woman has that poor lady so isolated she’ll never see the outside again.”

  It was then Ms. Juewelz’ guest returned to the table. “Aunt Juewelz, you aren’t talk’n about people you’re not supposed to, are you?”

  Looking her niece straight in the eye, Ms. Juewelz replied, “Who me? Can’t believe a word I say. I’m crazy, you know!”

  Her niece reached over and covered Ms. Juewelz’ hand with hers. Looking straight into her eyes, she said, “I think you’re the sanest person I know, Aunt Juewelz.”

  Ms. Juewelz laughed. “Honey, you need to meet more people!”

  Meredith walked away, contemplating Ms. Juewelz’ information. Her words broke Meredith’s heart and hardened her resolve at the same time. One way or the other, Meredith was going to get herself to Claire!

  July 7, 2016

  I can’t believe how tired I am at the end of my days at Everwood. It isn’t mentally tiring; it’s physically draining. I’ve never cleaned so many tables or picked up so many dishes in my life, but I think it’s about to pay off! After almost a month, I believe that I’ll finally be allowed to deliver meals to patients’ rooms. Tomorrow, I have a meeting with Ms. Bali, my supervisor. She said we need to discuss the “parameters of increasing my job duties”. I have to give the whole facility credit; they don’t allow just anyone to interact with the patients. Considering the amount of money these people spend for their treatment, I guess it’s a good thing Everwood makes sure that everyone’s following their rules. I’d write more, but honestly, I’m exhausted. I’ll write more tomorrow.

  July 8, 2016

  I did it! I’ve been “promoted”! I’m calling it that, but there’s no increase in pay, only an increase in clearance. I think the stories I’ve recently been telling about caring for my ill grandmother helped me get this additional duty.

  Starting next week, I’ll be part of the residential room rotation. There are six women who eat all their meals in their rooms. Ms. Bali took me around to each of their rooms today, and I met three of them. The other three, including Claire, weren’t in their rooms. Before we went from room to room, I was shown how to review the ICP on each patient. That’s their “Individualized Care Plan”. I hadn’t been able to access more than the generic information before, but now I have a code where I can see specifics. Most ICPs include food allergies, likes, and dislikes.

  Claire’s Food ICP was very specific, with certain rules spelled out:

  Ms. Nichols will have three meals delivered each day. Upon delivery, attendants will assess Ms. Nichols’ ability to eat unassisted. If she engages, leave food and return to remove tray in thirty minutes. If she doesn’t engage, direct her to her table and explain your actions as you assist in feeding her.

  Talking is recommended by Ms. Nichols’ doctors; however, Mrs. Vandersol will not allow any conversation regarding Ms. Nichols’ previous life. Under no circumstance can the name Anthony/Tony Rawlings be mentioned. IF Ms. Nichols brings up this name, staff is to change the subject immediately and notify a supervisor.

  Failure to adhere to the set rules will result in immediate dismissal.

  I was surprised to see her room. Unlike the other rooms we visited, Claire’s looked generic and sterile. The colors were all pale. She didn’t have any pictures or personal items, other than her clothes and hygiene items. Even the bedspread and window treatments were neutral; there were no bold colors. Since Ms. Bali was with me, I couldn’t look around too much, but I mentioned the starkness in passing.

  “Is this patient new?” Meredith knew the answer; nonetheless, she was fishing.

  “No, this is Ms. Nichols, the patient you read about with the specific rules regarding discussion. She’s been here for over two years.”

  “Her room isn’t as personalized as the other ones we’ve been in.”

  Ms. Bali dismissed Meredith’s observation. “That’s none of our concern. It’s Mrs. Vandersol’s doing, and I do believe it goes along with the conversation rules.”

  I wanted to ask more, but was afraid I’d raise suspicion. As we walked toward the kitchen, Claire passed us with a tall, pretty blonde woman. She looked our direction momentarily, but didn’t seem to recognize me. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I guess in a way it’s good. I’ve been concerned that she’d react as she did in the cafeteria the first time we saw one another. If she did that again when I entered her room, I surely wouldn’t be able to continue doing it.

  After they passed, Ms. Bali whispered, “That was Ms. Nichols with Dr. Brown. It’s sad, you’ll see when you start visiting her, but she’s lost all sense of reality. You may have read the book about her, but she’s had a pretty rough life for someone so young. I keep hoping that one day she’ll snap out of it.”

  Meredith paused for a moment before asking, “Is that possible? Can people really snap out of it?”

  “I’ve been here for over twenty years, so I’ve seen a few cases; however, we shouldn’t keep our hopes up. Cases like that are extremely rare...”

  I’m going to do some research and see if I can find out how you can facilitate that “snapping”. Oh, I told her I hadn’t read the book, but I’d look it up. Then she told me not to, that she probably shouldn’t have told me, and it would probably bias my opinion.

  She has no idea how biased I already am!

  Emily entered the waiting room of Everwood’s counseling center. She knew the facility backwards and forwards, and this was her favorite area—that is, if she had one at all. It was airy and open, with plenty of sunlight. They’d paid extra to get Claire a window that faced East. Emily knew her sister loved sun and hoped that the sunrises would help her; however, according to the reports, each morning when the staff entered her room they found her draperies still closed. At first, Emily had been more willing to entertain suggestions for Claire’s recovery, but with each passing day, week, and month, Emily’s optimism waned.

  This was Emily’s bi-monthly meeting with Claire’s doctors, where she’d listen to their theories and suggestions. Once a month, she met with the administrators and discussed confidentiality. At those meetings, she emphasized the importance of maintaining her rules. With these obligations, as well as visiting Claire at least three times a week, Emily’s schedule was very full. She also had a family at home that needed her attention. That family was larger than it would have been without Claire, and for that reason, Emily swore she’d never be regretful. Nichol was a joy, whom she and John were honored to raise. Of course, sometimes she wondered if Michael suffered because of loss of attention, but then she’d see the two cousins interacting like siblings and realize, Nichol was a blessing—despite her parentage.

  “Mrs. Vandersol,” the receptionist’s voice brought Emily back to present. “Dr. Brown is ready; may I take you back to her office?”

  “No, Sherry, I know the way.”

  Sherry smiled. “I’m sure you do, please help yourself.”

  As Emily walked the corridor toward the doctor’s office, she thought about Claire’s various doctors and therapists. At Everwood, every employee was female. Since a number of the residents were victims of domestic violence, the belief was that decreased male interaction helped to facilitate their recovery. Even male visitors were restricted to special rooms, away from the general population of patients. Emily had visited those rooms too, the first few times John visited. Now, at least once a month, he’d come visit Claire. The moment he laid eyes on Nichol, he abandoned his anger regarding Claire and Anthony’s reconciliation. John not only stepped up as an uncle and a father-figure, but also as a brother-in-law.

  After everything happened—the incident—John needed to return to California. After all, he worked for SiJo and had obligations. Of course, Emily stayed in Iowa with Claire. At first, Claire was too frail and Nichol needed care, then there was the trial. With time and Emil
y’s pregnancy, traveling became difficult. Staying in Iowa was convenient; nonetheless, she never assumed they’d make it home. Truthfully, they didn’t consider it—until Timothy Bronson approached John.

  Tim was named acting CEO of Rawlings Industries, by the board of directors, when Anthony initially disappeared. Although he was young, he’d proven himself to both the board and investors. Considering all she and John had done to harm Rawlings Industries, it seemed unbelievable that Tim would ask John to help rebuild the empire, or that the board of directors would approve his request. Tim did—and so did the board. Emily recalled the lengthy discussions by both John and Tim and her and John. The final deciding factor was the court’s decision allowing Claire to enter a private mental treatment facility. The court had one stipulation—Claire couldn’t leave Iowa. Prior to that, Claire had been in a state run facility. It wasn’t awful, but Emily hated it. She visited almost every day to assure Claire’s well-being. Of course, back then, Emily’s hopes for her sister’s recovery were much higher.

  There was no question—Everwood was a much better facility; nevertheless, Emily didn’t feel right leaving Claire and living across the country. In the beginning, Emily believed having Nichol near her mother would be beneficial. Unfortunately, those visits proved to be another failed attempt to facilitate Claire’s recovery. Once Nichol was old enough to understand the situation, Emily believed her niece’s best interest needed to be considered—Nichol hadn’t been to Everwood in over a year.

  The court no longer dictated Claire’s treatment; as next of kin with power of attorney, Emily had complete control. Iowa was now their home, and John was gainfully employed by a recovering Rawlings Industries. Meredith Banks was right when she said Nichol didn’t lack for money, and neither did Claire. That was John’s incentive. This time, when he considered the offer to work for Rawlings, he wasn’t accepting charity from a family member. No, this time, he was providing help to his family. Claire and Nichol couldn’t manage or grow their fortune. Since Anthony was gone, John did what he’d done years earlier when Emily and Claire’s parents died; he stepped up.