Behind His Eyes - Truth (2 page)

He acknowledged her words with his infamous grin, yet he had no idea why she’d commented on his attire. Apparently, she noticed his confusion, because she giggled and said, “You know—because it’s Saint Patrick’s Day.”

After weeks and months of consciously
not thinking
about his ex-wife, an invisible dam broke. In the presence of hundreds of donors, at a $10,000-a-plate dinner, memories flooded his mind. He carried on for the rest of the evening, shook hands, and made small talk, but his thoughts were three years in the past, at an Italian restaurant in Atlanta, Georgia.

Over the course of the next week, Tony tried diligently to push the memories away. When he’d wake in the middle of the night with his healthy heart beating erratically and his body covered in perspiration, Tony would stare toward the portrait veiled in darkness and remind himself that it was Ms. Nichols who’d failed her test. She was the one who chose to drive away and leave him. Before they were married, he’d promised her consequences if she ever left him, and being a man of his word, he delivered. Well, actually, the state of Iowa delivered; nevertheless, her absence and consequences were the result of
her
actions, not his.

When Tony stepped through the door to his home, Cindy stood ready. “Mr. Rawlings, may I take your coat?”

As he handed it to her, she said, “Dinner can be ready as soon as you like. Sir, are you going to eat in your office again, or would you like to eat in the dining room this evening?”

Tony squared his shoulders. “The dining room. I’ll be there in half an hour. First, I have business in my office.”

Cindy acknowledged him and walked away as he headed for his office. Despite the number of staff that Tony employed, silence loomed omnipresent, allowing the sound of his footsteps to echo through the vacant corridor. Once inside his office, Tony poured a finger—or two—of bourbon into the crystal tumbler. The decanter was waiting for him on the highboy, as much of a welcome to his home as his staff—safe and dependable. Tony despised eating alone, especially in the dining room. That was why he often chose to take his meals in his office or in his suite, but he was tired of hiding from the memories. The only way to stop them was to meet them head on. Swallowing the liquid courage, he relished the burn as the amber liquid soothed his nerves. He’d eat the
damn
dinner in the
damn
dining room and then spend the rest of the night going through a stack of new proposals. If nothing else, his renewed dedication to work had been beneficial to Rawlings Industries. At least something in his life was thriving.

After one more tumbler, Tony proclaimed that he’d shut the door on his memories. He’d done it before and would do it again. Leaning back in his leather chair, he removed his jacket and extracted his phone. The blinking light alerted him, reminding him that there were always people trying to reach him—calls, text messages, or emails. A quick brush of the screen told him that besides the plethora of emails, he had two missed calls with voice mails. The first telephone number was the governor’s office. Tony didn’t know why Preston, the new governor, would call, unless he was looking for a favor. Tony had fulfilled more than a few of those, especially for Marcus Evergreen, Iowa City’s prosecutor. As much as it irritated Tony to be at the man’s beck and call, the prosecutor had done his part to help Tony by ridding the world of Ms. Nichols’ accusations.
Quid pro quo
. The missed calls grated on Tony, reminding him that some debts may never truly be repaid; nevertheless, if keeping the new governor happy would one day benefit Tony, he would endure the imposition.

Being after 7:00 PM, the Iowa state offices were obviously closed until tomorrow. There was no need to bother with the voice mail now. Tony made a mental note to call Governor Preston in the morning. As he was about to check the second message, a bit of news on his computer screen caught his eye, and he mindlessly laid his phone on his desk, his thoughts overtaken with the information on his home screen. A subsidiary of Rawlings Industries had a substantial jump in stock price. The attached article stated that the upswing was due to the proposed quarterly revenue reports; the actual revenue reports wouldn’t be released until early next month. Wondering if the reports would support the assumptions, Tony began accessing data. Within seconds, everything else was forgotten. Even dinner slipped his mind until Catherine knocked on the door.

After he ate, Tony turned off his private line and told his staff that unless the house was burning, he did not want to be interrupted. Minutes turned to hours, and the March Iowa sky darkened, as Tony continued to work, read, and make notations. The memories that plagued him earlier found themselves successfully locked behind a wall of figures and reports. It wasn’t until nearly midnight that he noticed his phone. With the ringer muted, he’d forgotten about the voice mails and texts. Illuminating the screen, he saw that the alerts from before had multiplied. Scanning the list of numbers, Brent Simmons was the most recently missed call. He’d also sent the last received text.

“GOVERNOR PRESTON HAS CALLED ME SEVERAL TIMES TRYING TO REACH YOU. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE WANTS. HE SAID HE MUST TALK TO YOU TONIGHT. I’VE CALLED AND TEXTED. ARE YOU OUT? PRESTON SAID TO CALL HIM NO MATTER THE TIME.”

Tony shook his head and accessed the voice mail from the unknown number.

“Mr. Rawlings, er, Anthony, this is Sheldon Preston. I hope you get this message. I must discuss something with you tonight. I don’t care how late it is. Please call me. This is my personal cell. You can reach me here at any hour.”

Tony sighed, wondering what possible favor was so damn important. Scrolling the list of missed calls, he saw Sheldon’s private number repeatedly, as well as Brent’s. Fine, if the governor wanted to speak to him so damn bad, he’d call him at this ungodly hour.

Governor Sheldon Preston answered on the first ring. “Mr. Rawlings, thank you for returning my call.”

“It’s late, Governor. What do you need?”

“I wanted to tell you—before you saw the news tomorrow—Claire Nichols is out of prison.”

Tony leaned forward, his mouth gaped in disbelief.
How could she be out of prison? She had only served fourteen months of her seven-year sentence.
“What in the hell do you mean she’s
out
of prison
? Did she escape? What kind of facility is this state operating?”

“N-no, Mr. Rawlings, she didn’t escape,” Preston stuttered.

“Then what happened? She had over five years left on her sentence.”

“Yes, she
did
.”

“Did?” Tony asked.

“Well, you see, Governor Bosley pardoned her.”

Tony’s pale world seeped with crimson. “What the hell?”

“Er—”

Tony didn’t let the man speak. “Bosley resigned before I left for Europe. How did he grant her a pardon—
now
?”

“That’s the thing. Governor Bosley granted her a pardon two weeks ago. Somehow her name escaped the newspapers. I wasn’t informed until today. I’m not sure where the mix-up occurred; however, I intend to find out. Mr. Rawlings, please know that I’m very sorry. You should’ve been notified immediately. You should know that my entire office has been in an uproar. I’m very upset about this. I promise I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Tony listened as his hand clenched the small phone. He couldn’t contain the fury in his voice. “Two weeks ago! Two weeks! The woman who tried to kill me has been out of prison for two fuck’n weeks and I’m just now learning about it!”

“I’m very sorry. That’s why I wanted to speak with you before the story hit the media tomorrow. I’ve been informed that there’s a news blitz coming out first thing in the morning about how her name escaped the earlier press release. They’re insinuating a cover-up. You can understand how as a new governor—”

“You think you’re upset? What about me?”

“Yes, I’m sure you…”

Sheldon’s words faded as Tony tried to think rationally.
Damage control.
There must be damage control.
“My publicist should be involved in this news blitz. Who’s running it?”

“The Des Moines Register had the initial story, but I believe the AP picked it up this evening. It’ll be everywhere by tomorrow morning.”

Shit!
“I don’t like this at all.” There were so many thoughts. Tony struggled to keep them all straight. “Governor, where is she? She
is
in Iowa,” his baritone voice lowered another octave, as he added, “isn’t she?”

“Mr. Rawlings, a pardon is different than a parole. With a pardon the entire crime is erased—expunged. It officially never happened, the arrest, the sentencing—none of it. We don’t know where Ms. Nichols went. She doesn’t need to check-in or be accountable to anyone.”

Tony reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out an old key ring. Unconsciously, he threaded the relic through his fingers and steadied his voice. “This is completely unacceptable. I want details. How did this happen and who petitioned for her pardon?”

“I don’t have all of the details. At this time, all I know is that Jane Allyson, formally Ms. Ni—”

“I’m well aware of who she is.”

“Yes, well, she submitted the petition to Bosley’s office. Apparently, she also was the one who went to the penitentiary and sought Ms. Nichols’ release. Again Mr. Rawlings, I’m very sorry—”

Tony interrupted again, “Yes, Governor, I’m sure you are. I’m sure there will be other people who are
sorry
when I’m done with them.” Tony hit the
DISCONNECT
button.
Free.
How in the hell could she be free? And not only that—missing!
Tony needed answers.
Fourteen months! Expunged!
Tossing the old key ring, Tony hit Brent’s number.

As the phone began to ring, energy surged through Tony’s body, forcing him to his feet. He paced the confines of his office as he waited for Brent to answer. Tony didn’t care that it was the middle of the night or that Brent or Courtney may be sleeping. This was a damn emergency. Claire was missing! As the phone continued to ring, he thought back.
When was the last time he hadn’t known her whereabouts?
Years. He’d known where she was before she knew him, and now suddenly she’d walked away—no, not suddenly, two weeks ago!

Brent answered with a hushed tone. “What is it, Tony?”

“She’s gone! She’s fuck’n gone!”

“Who? Who’s gone?”

“Claire! Bosley pardoned her—two weeks ago!” Tony’s knees gave way as his tired body collapsed on the sofa. He’d thought about her. He’d received updates on her, but until that moment, he hadn’t said her first name—not since he learned of her allegations. Her blatant violation of his most basic rule relegated her back to the world of
Ms. Nichols
. Whenever she was mentioned in his presence, he required that she be discussed as Ms. Nichols, even before their divorce; however, tonight everything changed—
his Claire
was gone!

Brent stuttered, “T-Tony, I don’t know what to say? I mean, I read the names of the people Bosley pardoned. That list didn’t contain Ms. Nichols’ name.”

“That’s what Preston wanted to tell me. Somehow her name wasn’t disclosed, but now the press has it. Tomorrow the whole damn world will know that she’s been pardoned.”

“Where is she?”

Tony ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. Shit—Preston doesn’t know. Jane Allyson did this. I want her in my office first thing tomorrow morning, and I want Claire found.”

Brent sighed. “Because…”

“Because…” Tony stammered. He couldn’t tell Brent the truth—that he’d never lost track of her in ten years. “Because, she tried to kill me. What if I’m in danger?”

“Of course. Have you notified your security team?”

No, he hadn’t. He hadn’t done anything. “I called you first. How long will it take for you to hire a private investigator from your list and track her down?”

Brent replied. “I’ll get on it first thing in the morning—”

“Now!” Tony yelled. “I want her found by morning!” He heard Courtney’s concerned voice in the background.

“Okay, Tony,” Brent reassured. “I’ll get right on it. I’ll also call Patricia and have her get a hold of Jane Allyson.”

“There has to be some legal recourse, right? I mean, you can fight this—legally?”

Brent hesitated. “I’ll need to see the paperwork. If Jane made any mistakes in her petition, maybe—”

Tony shook his head.
If? Maybe?
“That’s unacceptable! I want something done immediately. This injustice needs to be rectified.”

“Tony, Courtney wants to know if you’re all right?”

“Tell her that I’m fuck’n great.” The energy that had momentarily fueled Tony’s rage faded into the black night. Holding his head, Tony sighed. “The damn press will have a field day.”

“Patricia will contact Shelly. She’ll do all she can.”

Tony nodded. He had a great team. His people would rally around him. “Give me an update in the morning.” Not having the strength to wait for a response, Tony hit
DISCONNECT
.
Two weeks—where in the hell was she?
His mind searched for possibilities: people, places, anything.

“Indiana?”

Tony looked up at the sound of Catherine’s voice. His dark eyes glared, daring her to say another word as she eased her way through the partially open door. “What in the hell are you doing in my office?”

“I heard you yelling, and, well, you’ve been acting strangely lately. I wanted to be sure you’re all right. Are you?”

He forced an unnatural laugh. “That seems to be the question of the day. No, no, I’m not. I’m also not prepared to talk about it, especially with you.”

Catherine relaxed her stance and sat on a chair near the sofa. “Why not me? You can talk to me. I’m the only person you can talk to about
her
, and besides, I’d like to know more.”

Tony’s darkening eyes burned toward her. “How do you know this is about
her
?”

“Like I said, I heard you yelling. You said her name.”

Tony ran his hands over his stubbly face and exhaled. “Not tonight, Catherine. I don’t even fuck’n know what to say.” He stood and walked to his desk. Turning back around, his tone regained its earlier intensity. “Claire is gone, but since you just offered a possible location, you probably already knew that. When did you find out?”