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Authors: Aleatha Romig

Tags: #Contemporary

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Phil nodded as he opened the door and allowed the hotel employee to enter.


Signore, Signora
,” Although the predominant language of Geneva was French, the
Alexanders
were thought to be Italian, as such, even the staff addressed them in their
native
language. Truthfully, most residents of the metropolitan city spoke fluent French, Italian, or German, or a combination.

Claire silently reached for her purse as her husband instructed the staff regarding their luggage. Standing patiently, Phil placed his arm casually around his wife’s waist and led her toward the elevator. Their performance remained flawless as they sat within the confines of the taxi.

The streets filled with people blurred as Claire contemplated her future. “Are our reservations set?” Claire asked in a whisper.

Phil leaned closer. “Yes,
my dear
, let’s discuss it further in private.”

Claire sat straight, gazed toward the driver, and nodded. No one could be trusted. She reminded herself to be mindful of listening ears. Disappearing into the night was Phil’s specialty. Doing that with a pregnant wife and multiple pieces of luggage was a new test of his clandestine skills.

As the early morning streets of Geneva passed by the windows, Claire reflected on her last piece of business. She’d made one last visit to the financial institution, the one that only a few days ago made her an incredibly wealthy woman. If the bank employees were surprised to have
Marie Rawls
visit for a second time, they didn’t show it; instead, they willingly took her to the safety deposit box where she completed her business. Claire couldn’t be one hundred percent certain, but her intuition told her that—when push came to shove—Tony would make his way to this hidden fortune. She decided his pot-of-gold shouldn’t be totally empty. She also knew the contents she left wouldn’t make him happy; nevertheless, this time, it was
her
game—she was the one holding the cards. He’d follow her rules, or he wouldn’t. She had no intentions of trapping him. No, she knew what that was like. In their figurative game of chess, she had him in check. If she’d taken the conversation with Marcus Evergreen another direction then it could have been check-mate. Watching the sidewalks fill with people, Claire wondered if Tony deserved the opportunity she was providing.

Truthfully, she couldn’t answer that question. She could only say that she
wanted
him to have the opportunity. With that said, what he did with the opportunity was his choice.

Phil gently squeezed her hand. “You seem far away. Are you going to be all right?”

Claire shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess time will tell.” She wondered how she and Phil had come this far, how their interaction had become so casual. Given their initial meeting in San Antonio, it seemed unlikely. Sighing, Claire turned back toward the window as the car slowed. It seemed very few of the relationships in her life could boast normal beginnings. Placing her hand gingerly over her midsection, she prayed for a normal ending.

Their reservations on
Air France
had them leaving Geneva early in the afternoon and flying directly to Rome. They both knew they’d miss their flight. Phil had a private plane waiting to whisk them away from Switzerland and take them directly to Venice. Claire’s new-found wealth allowed him the luxury of creating a rather tangled web of trails. She wasn’t sure if anyone would seriously try to unravel their trail, but if they did, she agreed Phil was making it difficult.

Once they arrived in Venice, their identities would again change. Sometimes Claire felt as though she needed a name tag to help her answer to the correct name. She really didn’t care what name she used as long as she could forgo the wigs and colored contacts.

Unfortunately, her sister, Emily, was working overtime to keep Claire’s name and face in the news. The last information Claire read online said she was still missing and speculations were centered on Anthony Rawlings. It reassured Claire to know that her call to Evergreen cleared Tony’s name.

If Claire could make one more call, it would be to Emily. As she and Phil rode toward the airport, she remembered how it felt to have her communication restricted by Tony. Ironically, she recognized she was once again in the same situation. This time, Claire didn’t know who to blame.
Was it Catherine’s fault?
After all, she was the reason Claire fled.
Or was it Tony’s?
If he’d never taken her—Claire couldn’t even imagine that scenario. Her life was so different than anything she’d foreseen in her youth; nevertheless, she reminded herself if Tony had never taken her then she wouldn’t be having his child. Tears threatened to permeate her colored contacts as Claire accepted the truth. Her current state, current deception of friends and family was self-imposed. She couldn’t place blame anywhere but on the woman in the mirror, no matter who she looked like at any given moment. Once again, her impulsivity played into her opponent’s hand. When the cards were dealt, Claire should’ve demanded a re-deal. She should’ve stayed true to the agreement she’d made with Tony, and she should’ve trusted him; instead, she wagered with fear and went full in.

The payoff, the safety of her child, was too important. Claire needed to see the game through until the end—folding wasn’t an option.

Mr. Evergreen explained that the FBI would soon be involved and instructed Claire to check in periodically. Evergreen warned that the FBI would more than likely want direct contact; however, Claire wasn’t willing to give the prosecutor anything more than Geneva as her current location. She’d lived through too many lies to trust anyone.

Claire agreed to Evergreen’s terms in that she’d remain hidden and safe. During her conversation with Marcus, she didn’t mention she had assistance. The information didn’t seem relevant. In this high stakes poker game, Phil was her ace in the hole.

Claire appreciated Phil’s concern. His desires toward her had been acknowledged. She knew that she was more than a job to him. If circumstances were different, she might entertain the idea of reciprocation; however, he understood her stance. Her acceptance of his platonic affection was purely for her and her child’s safety. She’d promised Marcus Evergreen she’d remain temporarily under the radar, and in return, he’d keep Tony safe. Phil helped her fulfill her side of that agreement.

 

 

Ten days later…

 

Harry looked at the screen of his phone and his eyes grew wide. Glancing around the room, he saw Amber’s expression. No doubt, by his sudden change in demeanor, she knew something was up. He steadied his expression and nodded.

“Who is it?” Amber asked in a hushed tone as the rest of the room continued chatting.

Harry didn’t respond; instead, he stepped quickly from Amber’s kitchen and the collective ears present. Before he knew it, Harry was standing in Claire’s old bedroom and answering his phone, “Hello, this is Agent Baldwin.”

The call was not only a surprise, but an overwhelming relief. He listened carefully as Agent Williams, Special Agent in Charge of San Francisco FBI, explained the new turn of events: Claire Nichols was alive, safe, and hiding overseas. She’d personally contacted the Iowa City prosecutor who immediately informed the FBI. Even more interesting was the tale of deception Ms. Nichols spun to Mr. Evergreen. She claimed that though she’d left town because she feared for her safety, she now had reason to fear for the safety of Anthony Rawlings, and she emphasized—under no circumstances was she implicating her ex-husband of any wrongdoing.

With each word, the muscles in Harry’s shoulders relaxed. Up until that moment, he’d fooled himself into believing he wasn’t worried about Claire. From the second Harry hung up the telephone after the bizarre call from Anthony Rawlings, asking him if he knew where Claire had gone, he told himself,
Claire made her own decisions
. She’d put herself willingly in Rawlings’ sphere of influence and deserved to reap the consequences. Rawlings was responsible for her disappearance, either from his own doing or as a by-product of his wealth. Either way, it was no longer Harry’s concern. Besides, she was pregnant with Rawlings’ child.

Then, without warning, he’d remember her voice. For a split second, that time when the conscious mind wasn’t fast enough to stop the unconscious thoughts, he’d wonder what would’ve happened if the child was his. He’d see Claire’s picture flash across the television screen or hear Emily’s worried voice and the concern, he’d told himself Claire didn’t deserve, would flood his chest.

Listening to his supervisor, that concern now seeped out. Standing in Claire’s room, hearing that she was indeed safe and alive gave birth to tears of relief which trickled down his cheeks. Of course, Harry couldn’t let that emotion infiltrate his voice—hell, his attachment to his assignment was part of the reason he’d been relieved of his duties: their connection truly severed.

It was after Patrick Chester’s attack and after the news of possible fatherhood that SAC Williams personally placed Agent Harrison Baldwin on temporary leave. Williams claimed the publicity over Chester’s attack threatened to expose their long time operation. Permanent termination from the bureau was threatened during more than one conversation.

None of that mattered anymore, as Harry listened and the SAC briefed him on the new developments. When Williams emphasized Rawlings’ innocence, Harry could no longer hold his tongue. “I know what that bastard did to her in the past. Maybe she’s speaking under duress?”

SAC Williams replied, “I haven’t spoken to her directly, but Evergreen believes her.”

“Sure he does. This time, her testimony helps Rawlings. Evergreen’s a Rawlings pawn. When she had something to say against him, the damn prosecutor wouldn’t listen and spun everything against her.”

“Listen Baldwin, if the Deputy Director hadn’t specifically asked for you to be back on this case, it wouldn’t be happening. If you’re going to make this work, then you need to get your head straight.”

Harry nodded. Williams was right. If he were to help again and learn more about the secrets involving the Rawls’ vendetta, then he needed to think like an agent—not a boyfriend. “Yes, sir, I understand. I’m grateful to be allowed back on this case.”

“Be at our office tomorrow at 9:00 AM. You’re taking a trip.”

His chest burst with excitement. This was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss. “Sir, what about Rawlings? Where’s he?”

“He’s currently in FBI custody; although, I don’t anticipate that being the situation for long. We’ll discuss this more when you arrive.”

“I understand.” Harry continued, “Special Agent, if there is questioning of Rawlings to be done, I request to be involved.”

“I believe you were told Ms. Nichols cleared Mr. Rawlings of anything to do with her disappearance.”

Harry leaned against the wall and took in the empty room. Claire hadn’t lived there in almost three months. Her things had been packed and shipped, yet if he closed his eyes, he could see her face and hear her laugh. The scent of her favorite perfume lingered in the recesses of the room and lofted into his senses. He shook his head and tried to focus. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Agent, this goes without saying; however, I realize you’ve became close to Ms. Nichols’ family. This information is classified—no one else can know.”

Harry thought about the people in the kitchen:
Amber, Keaton, John, Emily, and Liz. How could he possibly walk out there and not tell Claire’s sister that Claire was alive?

Harry swallowed hard. “Yes, sir, I understand. Thank you, Special Agent, for this opportunity.”

“Don’t blow it, Agent Baldwin. It may be your last chance.”

“I won’t, sir.”

After Harry disconnected the call, he walked into the attached bathroom. Looking at his reflection, he worked to subdue the smile that begged to fill his face. Finally, he gave in to the relief. Tears flooded his eyes, and his grin emerged as he whispered, “Thank you God. Thank you for keeping her safe. Just help me nail that son-of-a-bitch once and for all!”

 

 

 

I regret those times when I've chosen the dark side. I've wasted enough time not being happy.

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