Truth, стр. 137
Tony contacted his office; there’d been no ransom requests or other messages. Patricia would check the satellite offices and get back to him immediately.
Although she’d only been missing a short time, with Tony’s influence, APB’s went out to all airports and every flight’s manifest and passenger list was scrutinized for Claire Nichols. Her name didn’t appear as anyone who’d flown in the past 48 hours or who had reservations.
While Tony assembled the greater part of his posse, Chief Newburg of the Iowa City Police Department, excused himself to take a call. When he returned he reluctantly approached Tony, “Mr. Rawlings, I need to speak to you privately.”
Tony looked around the room. His legal consultants were present as well as Catherine and his security detail. “Does this have to do with Ms. Nichols?”
“Yes, sir, it does.”
“Then I don’t see any reason you can’t speak in front of these people. We all want to find her.”
“I think this would be better alone.”
Tony’s heart sank. He looked around. “Everyone but Catherine and Brent step out of my office for a minute.”
Chief Newburg waited until the grand doors closed, leaving the four of them alone. “Mr. Rawlings, a Mr. and Mrs. John Vandersol have contacted the Palo Alto, California, Police Department. Their department has formally contacted our department. You are being accused of culpability in the disappearance of Ms. Claire Nichols. If she is not found, they want you charged with her disappearance and possible death, as well as the same for her child.”
Tony collapsed into his leather chair. “Chief, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I called you here.”
“If they’d contacted our office personally, I could agree with you and talk them down. Unfortunately, since they’ve involved another agency, we have to follow through. Mr. Rawlings, may we search your house?”
“Yes. Of course, do anything you need to do to find her. But don’t waste too much time here. Find where she went. Find out if she’s with some maniac. You know she was attacked in California? We have brought threatening mailings to you. She could be with some crazy person right now.” His dark eyes fumed as he fought the desire to argue his innocence.
“I understand, Mr. Rawlings. We will get to the bottom of this.”
Chief Newburg called for additional officers and began taking statements from Anthony Rawlings and his household employees. The process lasted deep into the night. Most of the staff were blissfully ignorant. Chief Newburg wondered how so many people could reside under the same roof and have no idea what was happening with one another.
By the time they finished, Tony figured Claire had possibly been in the hands of some zealot for an additional five hours. It took all of Brent’s persuasive power to keep Tony from calling Emily and John and telling them exactly what he thought of their charges. After all, Claire’s baby was his baby. He’d never cause her or it harm. He reasoned: All right, maybe I did. Now, I wouldn’t.
During the questioning, another team of investigators descended upon the house. They went from room to room and searched everything. One investigator, searching their private suite found Claire’s box of research. He deemed the information worthy to be designated as evidence and took it back to the station for processing. They also asked about the estates security system. Was there video footage? Could they access saved files?
The press was already hot on the hunt. Someone leaked to the media that the ICPD was investigating Anthony Rawlings and his estate in conjunction with the reported disappearance of his ex-wife and current live-in relationship, Claire (Rawlings) Nichols.
As soon as everyone left, Tony returned numerous calls from his publicist who was working feverishly to restrain the outgoing information. Shelly was doing her best, but stalling or limiting was all she could promise. It was coming too fast and too furious; curtailing it was impossible.
Any emotion, if it is sincere, is involuntary.
—Mark Twain
Chapter 57
Moments before Tony’s plane touched down in Iowa:
At a roadside motel, somewhere in Illinois, Claire dried her newly temporarily-died red hair while Phillip explained the first part of her escape. “You’ll stay in Florence for a few days before you make your way across Italy toward Switzerland.” His voice came through the thin bathroom door as she changed into the clothes he’d brought. “The secret of staying hidden is moving, but not too erratically.”
She slid the squeaky pocket door, creating an opening large enough for her to exit the ugly pink and black tiled bathroom. The smell of stale smoke overtook her senses as her eyes scanned the shabby motel room. Thread bare carpet highlighted the traffic areas. Despite the surroundings, Claire’s voice sounded stronger than before, “Eventually I want to settle. I have a child to raise.”
From the corner of her eye, in the cloudy mirror above the low dresser, she saw her unfamiliar reflection. She noticed the looseness of the new clothes. They hid her pregnancy much better than her previous outfit.
“You will, after you acquire the money from the account in Geneva.”
Claire nodded. Catherine’s documents had specific instructions for accessing Nathaniel Rawls’ hidden fortune. It seemed appropriate. If his decree could send her into hiding – his money could finance her future. Claire even justified it as her baby’s grandfather’s support. It was amazing how the mind can twist things, making them legitimate, especially under duress.
Phil went on, “You’ll have a week to travel from Florence to Geneva. I’ll meet you there next Thursday. Your hotel reservation is set in Geneva. I need to know where to meet you. It’s too dangerous for you to have contact with anyone in the United States, even me. While leaving the U.S. you’re Lauren Michaels. In Geneva, minus the time you’re in the bank, you’re Isabelle Alexander. Hopefully, once I’m there, we’ll discuss your eventual destination.”
“Hopefully?” Claire asked.
“Your transaction must be complete. Temporary identities are one thing; securing a permanent identity with a new residence is expensive.”
Claire nodded. She wondered how much money the Switzerland account held.
Phil left Claire at a cafe in Burlington, a suburb of Cincinnati. From there she called a taxi which took her to the Cincinnati International Airport. She had to admit, he was smart. The curbs at the airport had video surveillance. With this plan, if she were to be identified, he wasn’t connected.
Claire realized she was flying international with nothing more than a carry-on; Phil supplied her with the basics. She would need to purchase everything else new in Italy. His plan provided her with enough starter cash to sustain her until she completed her financial transaction in Geneva.
The first security check was unnerving. Claire summoned every mask she’d ever worn. Once she passed to the other side of the check point and nodded to the last TSA agent, she sighed with relief. From that point on, Ms. Lauren Michaels confidently met each agent and scan head-on.
Lauren was thirty thousand feet in the air, crossing the Atlantic Ocean, by the time the police finished searching Anthony Rawlings’ estate. The striking green-eyed woman with deep amber hair rode economy-class, wedged between a mother with a sleeping child and a man in a cheap suit. The man to her left was not only a barrier to the aisle, but after he consumed too many seven dollar beers, his attempts at flirting made her debate the pros and cons of committing assault and battery.