“Yes, I’ve known Mr. Rawlings for a long time. I’m sorry, but I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”
“Ms. London, I received a call from the Boston bureau of the FBI yesterday. They instructed me to not release any information until everything was confirmed. This morning, they called and informed me that the news media would soon be reporting the incident.”
Catherine’s anxiety grew with each passing second. She didn’t know what was about to be said, and the uncertainty made her inhale deeply. “Mr. Evergreen, what are you trying to say?”
“Mr. Rawlings chartered a private plane during the early hours of the morning, Sunday. That plane made an emergency landing in the Appalachian Mountains.” He quickly added, “It didn’t crash—it landed, and no one has been found.”
Unexpectedly, tears formed in Catherine’s gray eyes. Stoically, she pushed forward. “Why? How? That doesn’t make sense. He has his own plane and access to many more. Why would he charter a plane?”
“All I know is that the FBI had reason to believe Mr. Rawlings’ life was in danger.”
Catherine’s hand quickly moved to her throat. “In danger? By whom?”
“They haven’t revealed that information to me. They said they’re not making any declarations. Your employer is neither considered dead nor missing. They hope to locate him. Ms. London, if you hear from him, I’m imploring you, please contact my office immediately.”
Catherine nodded. “Yes, Mr. Evergreen, of course. So, they think he’s alive?”
“The FBI isn’t being very forthcoming. I’m sure this’ll result in all kinds of speculations.” The prosecutor stood. “I need to get back to the office. I wanted to do something and informing you seemed like the best option. I realize he was your employer; however, after so many years of devoted service, I felt you deserved to hear the information first hand.”
“Mr. Evergreen—the FBI? Does this also involve Ms. Nichols?”
“I wish I could tell you more. I wish I knew more. As of now, both Ms. Nichols and Mr. Rawlings are both officially—considered missing.”
Keeping her eyes downcast, Catherine led her visitor back toward the door. “Thank you, Mr. Evergreen. I appreciate the personal message. I’ll contact your office if I hear anything.”
“One more thing, Mr. Rawlings’ driver, Eric Hensley?”
“Yes, that’s his name.”
“Is he here?”
“Yes,” Catherine replied. “He left with Mr. Rawlings Friday evening, but returned on Saturday alone. We haven’t spoken; I’m not sure why he came home alone.”
“You haven’t spoken?”
“Mr. Evergreen, this is a large home and estate. We all have our duties and when we have the chance for some uninterrupted time, we take it.”
Marcus nodded.
It was true the prosecutor made a decent salary, but the way of life in the world of the extremely wealthy was a mystery to those who didn’t live it. Catherine believed her answer made sense, and Mr. Evergreen had no reason to doubt her.
He added, “Thank you, Ms. London. I, too, will let you know of any new developments which I am privy to share. Would you like me to be the one to inform Mr. Hensley?”
“If you feel the need to speak to him personally—by all means.”
“No, if you want to break the news to him, I won’t intrude. Once again, I’m sorry to be the one to inform you of this disturbing news.”
“Thank you, for taking the time.” Catherine closed the door and leaned against it. Taking in the grand stairs and large glistening foyer, a smile crept upon her face. She’d give this some time. Although, she wasn’t sure what that amount of time should be; nevertheless, when that acceptable mourning time was over, she’d meet with Mr. Simmons or Mr. Miller. Catherine remembered the legal documents she’d signed years ago naming her the executor of Anton’s estate. They would have been null-and-void if Anton had family—a wife or children, but he didn’t. He was divorced, and Claire was also missing, as was the child she claimed was his. That all worked together to make those documents now valid.
Catherine’s smile grew as she made her way to his office. It was so nice of Marcus Evergreen to come all the way out to the estate to speak with her personally. She couldn’t have planned this better herself!
The café was outside. After almost two weeks in Venice, Claire couldn’t stand to be held up inside their hotel suite another minute. Yes, the Hotel Danieli was stunning; nevertheless, Claire had experience at being held prisoner in beautiful places, and she needed air. If that meant more of the disguises, she’d do it. Sipping her warm tea, Claire leafed through the pictures one more time. The blue water and white sand reminded her of her honeymoon. The private island was amazing, but could it be home? She knew she needed to make a decision. Phil had been patient, but this was taking too long; even the two of them, being out in public made him uneasy. Claire knew he wanted an answer.
“I’m not sure. I mean it reminds me of Fiji, but what about my baby? Is there medical care”—she added with emphasis—“real medical care nearby?”
“Yes, we discussed this. There’s a town a mere boat ride away. In that town there’s a UK educated doctor. If more extensive medical care is necessary, the town has an air field. You can afford the necessary flight. In less than two hours you can be at a state of the art facility with specialists.”
Claire looked down. Maybe she wasn’t ready to make this move. She hadn’t checked the American news feed in a few days, honestly, she hadn’t checked anything. As the adrenaline from her escape waned, the hidden fortune and impending move seemed burdensome. Claire was tired of making wrong decisions.
Phil leaned across the small table and covered her hand with his. The care and compassion she’d seen in his eyes was slowly turning to irritation. His voice was but a whisper in the din of conversation occurring on all sides of them. “Listen, it’s your choice and your money, but if you don’t make a decision soon, at the very least we need to leave Venice. I realize traveling is difficult for you; however, this is my job, to keep you safe—whether you accept it willingly or not.” His last phrase held a bit more determination than Claire appreciated.
With the hairs on the back of her neck springing to attention, Claire’s lingering sadness at what she’d lost gave way to her new independence. Sitting straight, she removed her hand from his and said, “You’re doing your job because I’m paying you—very well—I might add. It is my decision and I’m sick and tired of making the wrong ones.”
“Yes, you’re paying me and I’ve earned less for more. The fact remains, my job is to keep you safe”—his voice lowered again—“all the damn disguises in the world won’t keep you outside the radar on a public street in Venice. Despite the fact the FBI is probably looking for you, your ex-husband’s reward makes everyone a possible threat.”
As Claire moved to stand, so did Phil.
“Stop,” she declared.
He lifted a brow.
In a hushed but determined tone, she said, “I’m going for a walk. I don’t need a babysitter. I have my phone and I need to think. I’ll be back when I get back.” This time, she leaned toward him. “If you don’t respect my privacy, I’ll find another babysitter. I need a break.”
She saw the turmoil in his eyes. She wasn’t just a job to him, he genuinely cared about her. Claire knew that; nevertheless, she needed to think. Walking helped her do that. When he didn’t respond, Claire nodded and turned away. Though the sky was clear, the temperature was brisk, especially with the breeze blowing between the buildings. Claire reasoned it had to do with impending autumn and all the water.
With the tirade of thoughts swirling through Claire’s mind, the world around her was a blur. Unconsciously, her feet moved toward St. Mark’s Square, and her eyes watched the pigeons while directing her body to avoid other pedestrians. Though surrounded in all directions, none of the historical beauty registered. Her mind was busy searching for answers. She thought about Tony. They hadn’t seen one another for almost a month. Momentarily, memories of their last encounter filled her vision. She remembered him asking her again to go to Europe. The irony of the fact that she was now where he’d wanted her—wasn’t lost. If only she’d gone with him, perhaps she’d be enjoying the sightseeing, instead of hiding for her life. Berating herself, Claire recognized—another bad decision.