Convicted (67 page)

Initially, Tony didn’t recognize the voice. “I’m sorry, if I’m bothering you, I just finished the movie. If you’re still busy, I was thinking I may go for a walk—your gardens are lovely, even this early in the Spring.”

Catherine opened the door wider and ushered Sophia into the office. “No, Sophia, you aren’t bothering us”—leaning her head toward Tony, she said—“I’m sure you recognize Mr. Rawlings.”

Surprised by Catherine’s candid introduction, Tony worked to keep his external calm.

Sophia stopped and stared. “But I thought you were—”

Catherine interrupted, “We all did—it’s a miracle. He just came back moments ago.”

Tony stepped forward and offered his hand in greeting. “Mrs. Burke, I apologize for my abrupt departure a few months ago. I so wish we could’ve continued our conversation—I believe it would’ve been very enlightening.”

Before Sophia could respond, Catherine interjected, “Sophia, my dear, please have a seat. I’m afraid I have some terrible news to share.”

Tony’s back straightened, the muscles of his neck twitched, and the hairs stood to attention. Suddenly, he knew exactly what Catherine was about to say.

“My dear”—Catherine sat on the sofa next to Sophia. Taking Sophia’s hand in hers, she began—“We just received a call. I don’t know any way to say this, except quickly.”

Sophia eyed Catherine suspiciously. “What? Did something happen?”

“The Rawlings plane your husband was on—was on its way back to Iowa—and it went down.”

Sophia stared in disbelief.

Catherine continued, “The FAA is investigating.”

Shaking her head, Sophia found her voice, “Down? No—no—it isn’t true. There’s been some kind of mistake.”

Tony watched in horror as Sophia’s world crumbled around her. The display was both heartbreaking and educational—Tony was too late to save Derek. As Sophia’s tears fell, he also witnessed the previously unrecognized emotional toll of Nathaniel’s vendetta. Obviously, Catherine’s plans were in motion; suddenly, Tony’s mind swirled with possibilities—ways to stop further tragedies. As the whirlwind of thoughts cascaded, he heard another familiar name. Instantaneously, Tony felt the pain he’d just witnessed.

“...others on board...Rawlings’ employees...and...Brent Simmons.”

Before he could register his movements, Tony was standing in front of both women and his tone was harsh, “Catherine, we need to speak in private—now!”

Sophia sobbed quietly while Catherine stood and faced Tony. “I’ll get her settled, and
then,
I’ll return”—she straightened her shoulders—“Your concerns can wait. We both know,
accidents
happen—a few more minutes won’t change the past.”

Tony stepped backward, displaying restraint, solely for Sophia’s benefit. At this moment, he wanted to harm Catherine, more than he’d ever wanted to harm anyone. His reply came through clinched teeth, “Return
quickly
, this
will
end today.”

With that, Catherine led Sophia out of the office. Tony heard her say, “My dear, let me get you something to calm your nerves...”

Her voice trailed away, leaving Tony alone to reel with the news. Pacing the length of the office, he contemplated his best friend—the man with whom he’d finally been honest—the man who had a wife and children. Nausea erupted in Tony’s stomach as he thought about Courtney, Caleb, and Maryn.
Did Courtney know? Had she received a similar call?
His pocket vibrated.

The text was from Phil:

“
LONDON’S TAKING BURKE TO SECOND FLOOR. VANDERSOLS ARE IN THE ROOM LABELED ‘S.E. SUITE’
.”

Tony immediately texted back:

“
CLAIRE’S OLD SUITE. ARE THEY OK?
”

Response:

“
NO SIGN OF DISTRESS
”

Tony:

“
KEEP THE MONITORS ON THEM. TELL ME IF ANY THING CHANGES
.”

Phil:

“
CAMERAS IN OFFICE WERE DISABLED—THEY’RE NOW ONLINE.”

Tony sat at the desk and accessed the computer. He didn’t know if he was more upset that Catherine hadn’t changed the passwords or that she knew his. Either way, he now knew exactly how his grandfather felt. Despite Tony’s best efforts—he too had trusted the wrong person. Accessing Catherine’s email, he found her correspondence with Emily. The Vandersols had come as a result of Catherine’s invitation. He wondered what exactly she had planned. Before he could give it more thought, he turned toward the opening door.

By the time she closed the door, he was half way across the room. “You bitch! You arranged for that plane to go down, didn’t you?”

Sounding somewhat apologetic, she explained, “I never intended for Brent Simmons to be on board. He wasn’t on the original manifest.”

“So, you’re admitting it?”

“I’m saying that when Claire felt she had no one else—she needed me. I thought it would be the same when she came back, but it wasn’t. You let her walk all over you! You were too blind to see how she manipulated you! Now we know why—it was only for your money.”

With the mention of his wife’s name and each step toward her, the crimson hue of the room darkened.

Catherine continued, “Sophia doesn’t need money, you saw to that, but with her husband gone, she’ll be alone—now she’ll need
me
.” Seemingly unaware of Tony’s rage, Catherine added, “Besides, her husband was a
Burke
.”

“Don’t you see how out of hand this has become?”

“Really”—Catherine explained—“Mrs. Simmons should consider it a gift.”

Tony stared in disbelief. “Sick! You’re not only crazy—you’re sick!”

“Mr. Rawlings, you’re dead wrong.” Smirking, she added, “I’ve waited a long time to say that.” Before he could respond, she continued, “You see, in your absence, your friend has been well—forgetful”—Catherine stepped closer—“You probably don’t remember how your grandmother suffered”—she laughed—“Of course, everyone says that. They say it’s the patient that suffers, but in reality, it isn’t. Oh, don’t get me wrong Sharron was a sweet, loving woman; however, the one who really suffered was Nathaniel. Every day, he sat with her, talked to her, held her, even when she couldn’t respond. It was tragic.” Catherine shook her head, lost in her own thoughts. “No one should ever have to deal with that. So you see, with Brent heading that direction, because
forgetfulness
is how it starts—Courtney has received the gift of not having to witness her husband suffer.”

Tony listened in disbelief to Catherine justifying her actions.
Had Brent been forgetful? Or was he just walking an invisible tight rope when with Catherine, keeping his knowledge hidden?
Tony wanted her to stop. He wanted to release the crimson that wouldn’t go away. Without thinking, Tony slapped her cheek. “Shut up! There’s no justification for what you’ve done.”

The action was supposed to help him; however, instead of making him feel better, memories of slapping Claire came rushing back. The crimson continued to infiltrate. Turning toward the desk, he saw the vase of flowers. In one swift movement, he hurled it against the wall. Shards of crystal, water, and flowers littered the carpet as the vase shattered.

“You will
never
be the man your grandfather was!” Catherine screamed. “He never would’ve struck someone he loved.”

Tony turned maliciously, his eyes meeting hers. “If you’re referring to me—at this moment—neither did I! And as for my grandfather—he did. I saw him!”

“You’re lying.”

Tony’s face burned as he remembered the scene. “I watched from the doorway”—he pointed toward the doors—“He slapped my father.”

Catherine shrugged. “
He
probably deserved it.”

“So do you! You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies! Brent had a wife and kids!”

“I loved your grandfather, but even I realized that I couldn’t watch him take the same path as Sharron.”

Tony tried to process her words.
Same path
?

“With each visit to the prison, he became more and more forgetful. He’d ask me the same questions over and over. Some days, he’d talk about someone, and then tell me the same story again. Mostly, he’d talk about the past.”

Tony seized her shoulders. “My grandfather had a vitamin deficiency. That, combined with the anti-depressants the prison prescribed can create
dementia-like
side effects. I found documentation that the prison contacted my father about it. My father refused to allow them to take him off the medication. I assumed it was to help his case—giving him validation to void your marriage.”

Catherine’s eyes blazed. “No! He
was
losing it. I was there—not you. He trusted me—I had to take care of him.”

“Take care of him?”

“It was very simple. My mother believed in herbal cures. When I was a teenager, she thought she could cure my uncle’s drug use with herbs and plant extracts. She taught me about plants—those that heal—and those that kill. It’s actually very ingenious. The natural extracts don’t register on normal toxicology screens. Oh, it can be found, but only with specific tests.”

Tony collapsed onto the leather sofa and studied the woman he’d known most of his life. He could scarcely form the words to his question, “You poisoned my grandfather?”

Catherine stood taller and shook her head. “Don’t you dare make it sound bad! I did—what I did—to save him, from himself. You know, like how you planned to have Claire take the insanity plea—to save her from you.”

His volume rose with each word. Tony suddenly feared the reason the Vandersols hadn’t heard their argument or exited the suite. “Who else? Who else have you poisoned?”

She shrugged. “Well, after I knew it worked, I tried it with Sherman Nichols.”

Tony couldn’t believe his ears. “No! He died of natural causes, years before we started any plans.”

“Years before
you
started any plans. I was tired of waiting. His death sustained me until you were man enough to get involved.”

“But I paid for
accidents
.”

Smiling, she beamed. “And quite a bit too. It’s made a wonderful nest egg, thank you very much. The poisoning resembles a heart attack, as you probably remember from Nathaniel’s cause of death; therefore, the only difficulty is determining the perfect time of ingestion, for example, before someone gets into their car to drive, or goes on a dangerous hike—it works amazingly well and is rarely questioned. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to administer it, just a little in a drink or on their food. Finding a willing executioner wasn’t difficult. It also wasn’t as expensive as
accidents
.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because I deserve recognition—everyone thought you were so wonderful, and I was just the
stupid housekeeper
. None of what I’m saying can be proven. Months ago, I had the cameras in this office turned off, and after I took Sophia upstairs, I called the police. They should be here any minute. I told them that you just arrived and how afraid I was of what you might do. No one will believe your story. I’m just the quiet housekeeper. I wasn’t even in California when your parents died”—her eyes lit up—“You know the best part?”—She didn’t wait for him to answer—“I poisoned
you
with the same plant extract. Oh, I debated about the amount. I knew our plan was for you to only go unconscious. At first, I planned to use sleeping pills, but the irony was too beautiful to pass up.”

Tony walked toward her. “This
is
done. Why are the Vandersols here?”

“H—How—” she stammered. “How do you know about them?”

“Why are they here?”

She smirked. “I couldn’t have planned it better myself. The police will think you hurt them after all they’ve done to ruin your name. Did you know she was pregnant? Of course you did—that’s why you came here—to stop another Nichols from entering this world.”

His voice lowered as he walked closer. “Tell me if you’ve hurt them.”

“It depends.”

Tony glared.

“I don’t know,” she confessed.

“What the hell do you mean—you don’t know?”

Catherine shrugged. “We could check the video. I don’t know if they’ve decided to drink any of the water in the refrigerator. The room is quite warm and packing Claire’s things can be thirsty work.”

“Fuck’n sick! The police will take you away! You killed my grandfather for having
a reaction to medication
. He could’ve gotten out of jail and none of this would have ever happened. My father was right—in not trusting you! He was wrong too—my grandfather wasn’t crazy—you are!”

This time, Catherine attacked. Tony’s face stung as her open palm assaulted his cheek. Before he could form words, she was gone. He rushed after her, seeing her disappear behind a door in the corridor of his and Claire’s suite. Reaching for the handle, it didn’t move. He pounded on the wooden barrier and screamed her name. Within seconds, members of the shocked staff began to surround him.

“Mr. Rawlings!”

“Mr. Rawlings?”

Their surprised and questioning voices filled his hearing. Tony hoped Eric or Phil heard Catherine’s plan and were rescuing Emily and John. He continued screaming. Suddenly, smoke wafted from the opening below Catherine’s door.

Tony yelled, “Get out of the house and call the fire department!” At first, the staff didn’t move; finally, he yelled, “Now! Get out! Call for help!”

Everyone scattered.

His thoughts went from Catherine—to Sophia—to the Vandersols. He’d saved Catherine’s life, on more than one occasion—he wasn’t doing it again. As smoke billowed from below the door filling the corridor, Tony raced toward the backstairs.

Running toward the S.E Corridor, he went directly to Claire’s old suite. The lever wouldn’t budge. Cupping his hands against the door, he yelled, “Emily? John? Are you in there?”

Despite the commotion below, he heard nothing through the door. His heart sank until he heard a faint pounding against the door. He’d forgotten the room was soundproofed. There was a time that had been necessary. Reaching for the electronic release, Tony prayed it still worked. What seemed like an eternity later, he heard the once familiar
beep
. Grasping the lever once again, he pushed the door open to find his brother and sister-in-law laying upon the ground.