Convicted - Romig Aleatha (мир книг .TXT) 📗

“No! You gave me access to the money. It’s mine—a gift.”

Catherine laughed. “I wouldn’t give a gift to a Nichols.”

Claire stood straight. “I’m also a Rawlings! Leave me alone!”

“A Nichols is all you are and will ever be—that’s all that stupid baby was too!”

Strength from an unknown source coursed through her veins. Claire lunged forward, her petite hands surrounding Catherine’s neck, pushing the front toward the back. Both women fell to the floor. “Where’s my baby?” Claire yelled.

Catherine pushed Claire away as Claire held on tightly and continued to squeeze. “With Anton.” Catherine spewed as she gasped for air.

“Where?”

Catherine’s eyes rolled back and her lids fluttered. Claire couldn’t kill her—not yet. She needed to know where Tony and the baby were. Releasing her grip, Claire asked again, “Where? Where are they?”

The gray eyes focused directly on her as her lips curved upward. “Gone. They’re all gone—you’re all alone! I’d kill you too, but...some fates are worse than death.”

The air, once again, left Claire’s lungs as Catherine’s words immobilized her. Through the haze and fog of disbelief, Claire struggled to stand.

Catherine was gone.

Claire was alone.

In the distance of the attached room, she heard the door close. It was as she opened the bathroom door that she heard the beep.

Looking toward the lanai, the sea was gone and so was their paradise. Instead, Claire’s surroundings came into focus. Golden drapes covered large windows. White woodwork and beige plush carpet surrounded her. The vibrant colors of the tropics were gone, replaced by muted, dulled tones. Claire peered beyond the drapes, past the French doors to a stark landscape. Skeletons of leafless trees and thick gray clouds were visible for miles.

Falling to her knees, Claire cried out. Her words were meant for the man who would never again hold her close and for the child she never met. “Gone! No, please God, no! Tony, Tony, Tony...” Eventually, the words faded into nothingness...

Nothingness is worse than gray—it’s nothing.

Within the confines of the living room, Phil explained to Tony what he’d learned. “It was the notes from the nurses or aides at Camp Gabriels that made me stop and think.”

Tony was interested. He wanted to know more about Nathaniel, his life in prison, and how Samuel was able to void his marriage. Perhaps a portion of Tony’s curiosity was the realization that one day he’d follow after his grandfather in that endeavor, too. Anthony Rawlings wouldn’t be incarcerated for business fraud. No, Rawlings Industries was legitimate and so were all of its holdings. Tony demanded that. He surrounded himself with people who also demanded fair business practices, people like Brent, Tom, and Tim. Of course, he made money off of others’ misfortunes and poor decisions; nonetheless, each business acquisition or closing was done legally. His sins were more personal and arguably worse. The matter could be debated—the number of victims and the extent of the reach; nevertheless, Tony, too, had sins which required restitution.

“When I accessed the prison’s inner files, I found comments about Mr. Rawls’ behavior and attitude. Nothing appeared for the first few months of his incarceration. It was after he began taking anti-depressants that there were notations about forgetfulness. Sometimes it was a small rather insignificant entry: prisoner asked what day it was, or prisoner thought it was Friday. When he learned it was only Thursday, he became belligerent. What I found interesting, were the correspondences between the prison and Samuel Rawls.”

Tony tried to concentrate. His mind continually went from Phil’s words to Claire. The mention of his father’s name snapped him back to the present conversation. “Why were they contacting my father? Shouldn’t they have been contacting Marie—I mean Catherine?”

“When Nathaniel was first incarcerated, he and Ms. London weren’t yet married. Samuel was the contact—his next of kin and power of attorney. Apparently, to change those titles to a new person required compliance by all individuals. Samuel Rawls refused to relinquish his power over his father.”

Tony stood and paced as the storm continued to threaten. Torrents of rain blanketed the windows. Seeing his reflection in the glass and unable to see beyond the prematurely dark sky, Tony said, “That’s ridiculous. My father never visited the prison. Not one time!”

Phil shook his head. “I saw that too. Ms. London visited every Friday like clockwork. Your visits coincided with long weekends and college breaks.”

“Damn!”—Tony looked at Phil with newfound admiration—“Is there anything you can’t learn?”

“Me personally”—Phil smirked—“not if I know where to look.”

“So, what did you learn in the correspondences?”

Phil explained, as Nathaniel’s dementia-like symptoms increased, the prison contacted Samuel. One of the doctors sited a concern regarding drug interaction. He stated that some reports, at that time, claimed a possible connection between anti-depressants and a vitamin deficiency which produced forgetfulness, restlessness, and agitation. The doctor requested Samuel’s permission to take Nathaniel off the anti-depressants.

“My father refused, didn’t he?”

“He did. He authorized vitamin supplements, but vehemently denied approval to change or alter Nathaniel’s anti-depressant regime.”

“When was this correspondence?” Tony asked.

“Do you want the date? Or are you more interested to learn if it was after your grandfather married Ms. London?”

“B.” Tony replied. B—the letter propelled his thoughts to Blaine—his son or daughter. Hearing about the vindictiveness of his father and the deep seeded hatred that flowed through his own family, Tony wondered why the universe was willing to entrust him with a child. The Rawls in him didn’t deserve such a monumental blessing. He never thought he deserved any blessings. Everything he’d ever acquired he’d earned, through hard work—except this child—perhaps, the Nichols down the hall, balanced out the Rawls. In a way, it was like Catherine’s threats:

Rawls—Nichols

Except, that wasn’t the correct equation—it wasn’t Rawls minus Nichols—it was Rawls plus Nichols. It was now clear—Rawls plus Nichols equaled Rawlings.

Before Phil could answer, the sound of Claire’s scream echoed through the house, only to be drowned out by the rumbling of thunder. At first, Tony considered he might have imagined his wife’s plea, but when he saw the look on Phil’s face, Tony knew it was real.

“Did you just hear?” Tony asked as Claire’s scream rang from the other side of the house. Both men ran for the master bedroom suite. They reached the door at the same time as Madeline. Tony’s heart beat frantically as he reached for the door knob, pushed the door wide, and declared, “I’m going in alone. Then, I’ll let you know.”

Madeline and Phil both nodded.

Claire lay still near the center of their bed with her back toward the door. The fullness of pillows surrounding her body brought a momentary smile to Tony’s worried expression. Lately, she’d brought more and more pillows to bed. He’d teased her, saying a wall of pillows couldn’t keep him out, but Tony knew the pillows helped Claire to be more comfortable. He didn’t care if she slept in a bed of pillows.

His smile quickly faded when he realized she hadn’t turned toward the sound of the opening door. Quickly, he walked to the far side of their bed and stepped closer. Despite her damp hair pressed to her face, Tony thought she looked beautiful. When he spoke, he expected to see her beautiful emerald eyes. “Claire, are you all right?”