Truth, стр. 18
She reminded herself, unlike three years ago, she now knew the rules and boundaries to his game. Rule number one, there were no boundaries. Anthony Rawlings was capable of anything and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Yet, even Superman couldn’t overcome kryptonite. Catherine once told Claire, she had the rare opportunity to know Anthony Rawlings as few do. Claire knew his intimate beliefs. She knew his kryptonite – appearances!
She also knew without a doubt, he’d be in California. It may be days, weeks, or hell, only hours, but he would step foot on the west coast. It would happen. Claire needed to be ready, her beekeeper suit intact.
She sat on the tall stool in the kitchen, her laptop open and began to egosurf. Before she could change the perception the world possessed of her, she needed to know what that perception held. The results were nauseating.
Entering CLAIRE NICHOLS RAWLINGS into the Google search engine landed her over fifty thousand hits! She began to click and read. Yes, there was factual information: born October 17, 1985, to Jordon and Shirley Nichols. One sister, Emily Nichols Vandersol, married to John Vandersol. Claire graduated from Hamilton Heights High School in Fishers, Indiana, and obtained a Bachelor’s Degree in meteorology from Valparaiso University. She completed a one year internship in Albany, New York, and then worked for WKPZ as a meteorologist assistant in Atlanta, Georgia. After WKPZ was bought, she worked at the Red Wing, a restaurant in Atlanta, until 2010. It’s at that point the history of her life becomes mostly conjecture.
One of the few facts: on December 18, 2011, she married Anthony Rawlings. Claire had read the information before about her being a gold-digger. However, the ferocity of the newly found articles surprised her. It was as if some of these reporters were truly hell-bent on righting the wrongs done to Anthony Rawlings.
Claire scrolled numerous articles which made her every sin public knowledge. She read about her changing hair color and shopping habits. There were accurate and inaccurate reports of travels. Thinking that perhaps this was a journey she shouldn’t have taken, she clicked and discovered an unlikely ally – a redeemer of her reputation. The article appeared in Rolling Stone, February 2012, following her arrest – prior to her plea. It was entitled, Mrs. Rawlings, No longer a Mystery – But Seriously a Killer? by Meredith Banks. The article discussed Claire Nichols, the real person, student, sorority sister, daughter – grieving the loss of her parents following their tragic deaths, intern, meteorologist assistant in Atlanta, bartender . It went on to discuss the impromptu meeting in Chicago and the unlikelihood of Claire Nichols attempting to murder her husband. Meredith mentioned Claire’s hesitation to discuss her future husband. Hesitation, I didn’t discuss him! Meredith also discussed the obvious – with as much money as Anthony Rawlings possessed, why would Claire want to kill him? She used the travel, shopping, and pampering spas as evidence. Why would Claire want to kill the handsome generous husband who showered her with luxuries? She had access to all the money she wanted and Anthony was making more. Meredith concluded killing him made no sense.
Claire couldn’t help but see the irony – the first, perhaps only, positive and accurate article was written by the same woman who wrote the article eighteen months earlier which almost cost her, her life!
Claire opened another page on her laptop and Googled Meredith Banks, independent correspondent based out of Long Beach, California. The website contained her email and phone number. After a quick check of Google Maps, Claire learned Long Beach was a six and a half hour drive from her current location. She pondered that information. With Tony’s current state of mind, perhaps a 400 mile drive wasn’t a bad plan.
Claire considered her new option. She could contact Meredith. She could promise an exclusive interview. But, what was she willing to reveal? If she couldn’t look Amber and Harry in the eye and talk about her life as Mrs. Rawlings, was she ready to do it with Meredith?
Off the dining room were two sets of sliding glass doors leading to a courtyard with a small outdoor sitting area and hot tub. Claire eased her way out into the yard and into a chair. Holding her mug of warm French Vanilla latte, she looked up toward the sky. The clouds had parted revealing patches of blue. She knew the entire disclosure process needed to be well thought-out. Claire reminded herself not to act impulsively or without forethought. Perhaps, as stunning as it seemed, Meredith may be the answer she’d been seeking. Yet, before she attempted to make contact, Claire needed to be sure of what she intended to share. Her article years ago with Vanity Fair taught her that every question must be thoroughly reviewed and dissected. Each impromptu answer must go through the same scrutiny.
If she planned on informing the world the truth, she needed to be sure it came across the way she intended. The question looming in Claire’s mind – could she trust Meredith Banks to write that article? Claire truly didn’t know the answer.
White filmy wisps of condensation moved ever so gently across the sky as beams of sunshine continued to win their battle. Tilting her face toward the sun, Claire closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh spring air. The warm rays and warm coffee reminded Claire that no matter her decision, the reality remained, it was her decision.
Suddenly an old question resurfaced, how did he do it? How did he make her disappear, without anyone questioning her sudden departure? This information seemed incredibly important. She needed to be sure, history would not repeat itself.
Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, false naming of real events.
—Adrienne Rich
Chapter 8
Claire gripped the phone tighter, “What texts and emails are you talking about?”
“It must’ve been in March, if I remember right. March of the year you left Atlanta.”
“That is what I’ve been saying, Emily. Tony took me away in March, March 17, 2010, and I was at his house on the 20th. I never sent emails or texts.”
“Yes, you did. You sent out emails telling about a new job possibility. They said how excited you were about it.” Although Emily couldn’t see, Claire shook her head. “Actually you also sent out emails via Facebook. I remember thinking, you must really be excited.”
“I never sent those. Did you respond?”
“I did and you replied. Then about a week later you sent a text saying you’d be getting a new phone number and would call. As you know, you didn’t call for months, and your old number no longer worked.”
Claire pondered this new information, “I wonder if messages went out to other people?”
“I know John received the same emails and texts – you know, like you did a mass send? And when we didn’t hear from you again for a while, I called your apartment complex. They said you’d moved out and paid to break the lease. They also said something about a new job opportunity but couldn’t remember any details.”
“Why didn’t you ever mention this?”
At first Emily remained silent. When she spoke it was with a recent reoccurring sharpness to her tone, “And when do you suppose I should’ve done that? Maybe while your every word was scrutinized or perhaps while my every word was overheard?” Those details, about their conversations during Claire’s marriage, were just recently revealed by Claire. Obviously Emily still found them upsetting.
“No, Emily. I’m sorry. I know you couldn’t have said anything then, but now?”