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?”
“Just moments ago.” Her eyes opened wide. “Like I said, I heard you speaking to Mr. Simmons.”
“You don’t seem too concerned.”
She shrugged. “I am. I’m concerned about you, about the fact that you still have her picture hanging in your suite, and that you look more worried than upset.”
Tony glared. “Then looks can be deceiving, because I’m definitely upset—no, I’m outraged!” His volume increased. “Richard Bosley screwed me over. He pardoned her two weeks ago and hid it all.”
“Pardoned?”
“Yes! Did you miss that little bit of information during your eavesdropping endeavor? She was pardoned. Her crime, plea, and sentence are gone! It’s like it never happened. Like suddenly I was never lying in a hospital bed fighting for my life.”
Catherine bristled slightly in her chair. They’d had more than a few words over his condition following the poisoning. “Anton,” she said, softly, “what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to find her!”
“Remember, she left you. You offered her an alternative, and she dismissed it. Do you think she wants to be found? And even if you find her, what will you do then?”
With his jaw tightly clenched, Tony poured another drink. Silence enveloped the regal office as Catherine’s gray eyes stared, and Tony contemplated his answer. Did Claire want to be found? Obviously not, or he would know her location. What was he going to do after he found her? Tony didn’t know the answer to that, either. Closing his eyes, he fought the bombardment of emotions. There were too many, coming too fast and too conflicting. Rage, uncertainty, worry, anger, hurt—the list could go on and on. Tony couldn’t identify what he was feeling, much less discuss it.
After he swallowed the alcohol, Tony slammed the helpless tumbler on his desk and glared. “If I remember correctly, I told you that I didn’t want to discuss this—with anyone. That includes you.”
Catherine pressed her lips into a straight line, stood, and walked toward the door. As she reached for the handle, she looked back. “In case you don’t know… the answer is no. But you could change that.”
His brows knitted together. “What answer?”
“Does she want to be found?” Catherine answered.
“I said that I didn’t—”
Catherine interrupted, “I asked you if Claire wanted to be found. The answer is no, but she’s good for you. Despite the fact that she’s a Nichols and she left you… at one time, she was good for you.”
Tony collapsed into his chair. The emotions and liquor were taking hold. “Good for me? What about me? Was I good for her?”
Catherine diverted her gaze to the floor. When she resumed eye contact, she shrugged. “In some ways, but you could be better for each other. I know you could. You just have to show her that.”
He closed his eyes. He and Claire could be good together. Tony knew that—they had been. When he opened his eyes, Catherine was gone.