Reaching for his arm, Claire looked up into his dark eyes. “Tony, what is it? What’s the matter?”
“I need to tell you something”—his tone matched his gaze, strong and demanding—“but first, I want you to promise that you’ll do as I say.”
Claire stood a little taller. “I love you—I promise that. What I’m going to do has yet to be determined.” The muscles under her fingertips tensed. Softening her pitch, she implored, “Tony, please tell me what happened. You’re scaring me.”
Turning, he clutched her shoulders as his stare bore down from above. Undaunted, she waited for his explanation. Behind his eyes, where she used to see only darkness, Claire now saw fury, indecision, and love. The sound of the surf filled the void while Tony wrestled to organize his words. Finally, his warm breath hit her cheeks and he implored, “Don’t you understand? I need to know that you and Nichol are safe.”
“We are safe. We’re all safe. What’s this about?”
Squaring his stance, he relayed the information emotionlessly, as if addressing a board of directors, “I just got off the phone with Eric. I’m going back to Iowa.”
Claire pulled herself free and took a few steps backward in disbelief. “No! No you’re not! We talked about this. Catherine can wait. Nichol needs you.” Reaching for his hand, she continued, “I need you.”
“Let me finish.”
Claire nodded. “Fine, finish, but you know what Agent Jackson said. There are charges and a case against you. You helped hide Catherine’s crimes and ran from the FBI. When you step foot on U.S. soil, they’ll take you into custody.” Tears trickled from her eyes. She’d begged for less. Begging to keep her husband safe, with her in paradise, came without hesitation. “Please, Tony. Please remember, we said one year. Let Nichol celebrate her first birthday with us, all of us, here—together.”
“Damn it, you’re killing me,” he said as he wiped the tears from his wife’s cheeks. Gently taking her hand, he led her out onto the lanai, to a shaded chaise lounge. Sitting, he directed, “Look at this view.”
She turned toward the horizon. It was the same view she’d seen each day for months. Some days, she could stare at it for hours, but now she wanted answers.
Tugging softly on her chin, Tony pulled her gaze toward him and kissed her lips. Claire’s heart ached at the sadness she saw. He continued, “I need to know you two are here—safe and sound. I won’t inform the FBI I’m back in the States.” As Claire’s rebuttal began, Tony shook his head in an effort to keep her quiet. Obediently swallowing her protest, she nodded and he went on, “Then—then, I’ll be back. I’ve contacted Phil. With his help, we can finish our objective sooner rather than later.”
Phil had returned to the States after the first of the year. He stayed in constant contact, and Claire hadn’t seen any worrisome emails. “Why?” Her voice quivered as she tried to voice her multitude of concerns all at once. “Why would you take that risk? What’s so important that it can’t wait a year? And how did you talk to Eric? Both the FBI and Phil told you not to contact anyone who doesn’t know our location. What if he told Catherine?”
“He won’t. If there’s one person in this world I trust explicitly besides you—it’s Eric. He’s proven himself over and over.”
“Yeah, you used to say the same thing about—” Although Claire stopped herself before she completed the sentence, it was too late. In the pools of black staring at her, she saw the pain she’d just inflicted.
Tony’s volume rose. “You don’t think I know? You don’t think I’ve berated myself over and over for trusting her and putting you and Nichol in harm’s way.” Claire reached out, but when the tips of her fingers neared his arm, he pulled away. His response was as much a confession as a wish, “I thought the estate was a haven—hell, you were probably safer in California with—”
Claire wouldn’t let Tony go there, she interrupted, “I’m sorry. I know you trust Eric. I also know you thought you were protecting us. We can’t rewrite history. If we could, our pen would probably run out of ink”—this time, as she touched his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, he didn’t stop her—“Please tell me what’s happening.”
“I have to go back and be sure everyone is safe. It’s a responsibility I can’t avoid.”
“Is this about Sophia—Catherine’s daughter? Do you really think Catherine would do anything to her own daughter? Besides, not to sound selfish, but I don’t think she’s worth you leaving us and taking the risk.”
“I need to tell you something”—his tone matched his gaze, strong and demanding—“but first, I want you to promise that you’ll do as I say.”
Claire stood a little taller. “I love you—I promise that. What I’m going to do has yet to be determined.” The muscles under her fingertips tensed. Softening her pitch, she implored, “Tony, please tell me what happened. You’re scaring me.”
Turning, he clutched her shoulders as his stare bore down from above. Undaunted, she waited for his explanation. Behind his eyes, where she used to see only darkness, Claire now saw fury, indecision, and love. The sound of the surf filled the void while Tony wrestled to organize his words. Finally, his warm breath hit her cheeks and he implored, “Don’t you understand? I need to know that you and Nichol are safe.”
“We are safe. We’re all safe. What’s this about?”
Squaring his stance, he relayed the information emotionlessly, as if addressing a board of directors, “I just got off the phone with Eric. I’m going back to Iowa.”
Claire pulled herself free and took a few steps backward in disbelief. “No! No you’re not! We talked about this. Catherine can wait. Nichol needs you.” Reaching for his hand, she continued, “I need you.”
“Let me finish.”
Claire nodded. “Fine, finish, but you know what Agent Jackson said. There are charges and a case against you. You helped hide Catherine’s crimes and ran from the FBI. When you step foot on U.S. soil, they’ll take you into custody.” Tears trickled from her eyes. She’d begged for less. Begging to keep her husband safe, with her in paradise, came without hesitation. “Please, Tony. Please remember, we said one year. Let Nichol celebrate her first birthday with us, all of us, here—together.”
“Damn it, you’re killing me,” he said as he wiped the tears from his wife’s cheeks. Gently taking her hand, he led her out onto the lanai, to a shaded chaise lounge. Sitting, he directed, “Look at this view.”
She turned toward the horizon. It was the same view she’d seen each day for months. Some days, she could stare at it for hours, but now she wanted answers.
Tugging softly on her chin, Tony pulled her gaze toward him and kissed her lips. Claire’s heart ached at the sadness she saw. He continued, “I need to know you two are here—safe and sound. I won’t inform the FBI I’m back in the States.” As Claire’s rebuttal began, Tony shook his head in an effort to keep her quiet. Obediently swallowing her protest, she nodded and he went on, “Then—then, I’ll be back. I’ve contacted Phil. With his help, we can finish our objective sooner rather than later.”
Phil had returned to the States after the first of the year. He stayed in constant contact, and Claire hadn’t seen any worrisome emails. “Why?” Her voice quivered as she tried to voice her multitude of concerns all at once. “Why would you take that risk? What’s so important that it can’t wait a year? And how did you talk to Eric? Both the FBI and Phil told you not to contact anyone who doesn’t know our location. What if he told Catherine?”
“He won’t. If there’s one person in this world I trust explicitly besides you—it’s Eric. He’s proven himself over and over.”
“Yeah, you used to say the same thing about—” Although Claire stopped herself before she completed the sentence, it was too late. In the pools of black staring at her, she saw the pain she’d just inflicted.
Tony’s volume rose. “You don’t think I know? You don’t think I’ve berated myself over and over for trusting her and putting you and Nichol in harm’s way.” Claire reached out, but when the tips of her fingers neared his arm, he pulled away. His response was as much a confession as a wish, “I thought the estate was a haven—hell, you were probably safer in California with—”
Claire wouldn’t let Tony go there, she interrupted, “I’m sorry. I know you trust Eric. I also know you thought you were protecting us. We can’t rewrite history. If we could, our pen would probably run out of ink”—this time, as she touched his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, he didn’t stop her—“Please tell me what’s happening.”
“I have to go back and be sure everyone is safe. It’s a responsibility I can’t avoid.”
“Is this about Sophia—Catherine’s daughter? Do you really think Catherine would do anything to her own daughter? Besides, not to sound selfish, but I don’t think she’s worth you leaving us and taking the risk.”
