Claire opened another page on her laptop and Googled Meredith Banks, independent correspondent based out of Long Beach, California. The website contained her email and phone number. After a quick check of Google Maps, Claire learned Long Beach was a six and a half hour drive from her current location. She pondered that information. With Tony’s current state of mind, perhaps a 400 mile drive wasn’t a bad plan.
Claire considered her new option. She could contact Meredith. She could promise an exclusive interview. But, what was she willing to reveal? If she couldn’t look Amber and Harry in the eye and talk about her life as Mrs. Rawlings, was she ready to do it with Meredith?
Off the dining room were two sets of sliding glass doors leading to a courtyard with a small outdoor sitting area and hot tub. Claire eased her way out into the yard and into a chair. Holding her mug of warm French Vanilla latte, she looked up toward the sky. The clouds had parted revealing patches of blue. She knew the entire disclosure process needed to be well thought-out. Claire reminded herself not to act impulsively or without forethought. Perhaps, as stunning as it seemed, Meredith may be the answer she’d been seeking. Yet, before she attempted to make contact, Claire needed to be sure of what she intended to share. Her article years ago with Vanity Fair taught her that every question must be thoroughly reviewed and dissected. Each impromptu answer must go through the same scrutiny.
If she planned on informing the world the truth, she needed to be sure it came across the way she intended. The question looming in Claire’s mind -- could she trust Meredith Banks to write that article? Claire truly didn’t know the answer.
White filmy wisps of condensation moved ever so gently across the sky as beams of sunshine continued to win their battle. Tilting her face toward the sun, Claire closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh spring air. The warm rays and warm coffee reminded Claire that no matter her decision, the reality remained, it was her decision.
Suddenly an old question resurfaced, how did he do it? How did he make her disappear, without anyone questioning her sudden departure? This information seemed incredibly important. She needed to be sure, history would not repeat itself.
Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions,
false memories, false naming of real events.
-Adrienne Rich
Chapter 8
Claire gripped the phone tighter, “What texts and emails are you talking about?”
“It must’ve been in March, if I remember right. March of the year you left Atlanta.”
“That is what I’ve been saying, Emily. Tony took me away in March, March 17, 2010, and I was at his house on the 20th. I never sent emails or texts.”
“Yes, you did. You sent out emails telling about a new job possibility. They said how excited you were about it.” Although Emily couldn’t see, Claire shook her head. “Actually you also sent out emails via Facebook. I remember thinking, you must really be excited.”
“I never sent those. Did you respond?”
“I did and you replied. Then about a week later you sent a text saying you’d be getting a new phone number and would call. As you know, you didn’t call for months, and your old number no longer worked.”
Claire pondered this new information, “I wonder if messages went out to other people?”
“I know John received the same emails and texts – you know, like you did a mass send? And when we didn’t hear from you again for a while, I called your apartment complex. They said you’d moved out and paid to break the lease. They also said something about a new job opportunity but couldn’t remember any details.”
“Why didn’t you ever mention this?”
At first Emily remained silent. When she spoke it was with a recent reoccurring sharpness to her tone, “And when do you suppose I should’ve done that? Maybe while your every word was scrutinized or perhaps while my every word was overheard?” Those details, about their conversations during Claire’s marriage, were just recently revealed by Claire. Obviously Emily still found them upsetting.
“No, Emily. I’m sorry. I know you couldn’t have said anything then, but now?”
“Well, perhaps I’ve been busy trying to get to know my sister again and oh yeah – my husband. Details of your disappearance three years ago, when I thought you just didn’t want me in your life, well, they haven’t been high on my priority list.”
Claire inhaled deeply and exhaled. Emily’s anger was justified. “I want you to know I did not, and would not, just email or text you or John out of my life. If it happens again, please know it isn’t me.”
Emily’s end of the line went silent. She finally responded, with distress not resentment, “Why? Are you seriously afraid it could happen again?”
Claire didn’t hesitate. She no longer wanted to delude her sister. “Yes.”
“I promise, if I can’t get ahold of you, or I get those kinds of messages – I’ll have the police break down Anthony Rawlings’ door.”
Claire smiled. “Thanks, Sis. Hopefully, that’ll never be necessary. Right now I’m learning what I can about how he did it last time.”
The two spoke for a while longer. During her time in Iowa, her calls were not only monitored but time restricted. The two sisters relished their new lengthy soul revealing conversations. Emily informed Claire she’d be going to New York the first week of April to bring John home. With his sentence complete, the condition of his probation required regular interaction with a probationary officer. As long as he did that, he could travel, or live, anywhere within the continental United States.
Due to the charges of fraudulent billing, The New York State Bar Association suspended John’s admission to the bar, disabling him from practicing law. For any chance at redemption, an appeal must be made to the governing body’s disciplinary committee. Emily wasn’t sure what he’d do. She was just happy they’d be together.
Claire wanted to ask to join Emily in New York. However, instinctively she believed her presence was currently unwelcome. She hoped it was only momentary, besides Emily and John needed private time.
Amber arrived home to find her dining room table covered in piles of disheveled papers. It was the information Claire saved from Tony’s box, along with new information Amber and Harry helped accumulate. Harry’s connection to the Bureau of Investigation and Intelligence was definitely advantageous.
From the box, Claire saved pictures. Looking through the stack, she placed them in chronological order. The first series was from her parent’s funeral. If she hadn’t stared at them for hours, in her cell in Iowa, the subject would be upsetting. Instead, the circumstance of their existence dominated her thoughts. The photo in her hand was of the grave site. She saw the vibrant autumn trees surrounding the double plot and a seemingly appropriate gray sky. The faraway shot showed Emily with John on one side and Claire on the other. There were many people behind them. The next one caused Claire’s stomach to churn. It showed a close-up of her, alone -- her name handwritten on the back. She recognized the distinguishable writing. She’d seen that same script on many notes throughout her two years with Tony.