While the slender heels of her Luciano Padovan sling-back platform pumps clicked along the sidewalk toward Lake Geneva, Claire’s self-absorbed thoughts filled every fiber of her being. How many times had she told Tony his money didn’t matter? How many times had she shunned the idea of wealth? Nevertheless, she’d just done the unthinkable. If it weren’t for the uncomfortable gray contacts, she’d surrender to the tears threatening to flow. She fought the impulse. Isabelle Alexander needed to be strong, just as Marie Rawls had been moments earlier.
The documents inside her purse were the key to over $200,000,000. More than anything, she longed to throw them in the nearest gutter. The only thing stopping the growing compulsion was the child moving inside of her. Never in Claire’s entire life had she hated herself as much as she did at this moment. Thankfully, her love for her baby overpowered her self-loathing.
Claire’s common sense demanded she go directly to her hotel and secure the documents inside a locked safe. Nevertheless, she was tired of listening to her mind. She needed to know what was happening in the USA, in Iowa, and at Tony’s estate. She had so many questions. And over the past week she’d formed many more: First and foremost... who was the real Marie Rawls? Tony admitted to seeing her since she killed his parents. Catherine admitted to being with the Rawls family when Nathaniel married Marie. This woman existed. Why hadn’t she turned up in any of their research?
The vibrant sky and tall limestone buildings disappeared beyond the sea of sidewalk tables and happy tourists. Isabelle politely intermingled and scanned the landscape. Slipping into an internet cafe, she ordered a tall tea. No question, her Italian was improving with each passing day. She settled into an available swivel chair next to a computer, logged onto the Wi-Fi, and transcended the ocean in search of information.
Information began to materialize: Parrott Press Wins Battle Against Rawlings Industries - Representative Promises Claire Nichols’ Rawlings Memoirs Published By October First. Claire’s heart sank... was there any way to stop this mess? Next story: Palo Alto Police Question Iowa City Police Regarding Lack of Cooperation with Anthony Rawlings. As of yet, no charges had been filed or restrictions placed on Mr. Rawlings’ travel. Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol have requested his passport be seized. Marcus Evergreen, Iowa City Prosecutor, was quoted as saying, “Mr. Rawlings is an upstanding law abiding citizen. Until we are convinced otherwise, he is free to live his life. He has a home and multibillion dollar business empire. We have no reason to assume he is a flight risk.”
Claire exited the current stories and began searching New Jersey records -- nothing on Marie Rawls. She remembered Nathaniel was incarcerated in 1987. Claire wasn’t sure when he married Marie. However, if he married her while in prison, that would have been in New York. Claire entered Marie Rawls into the data base of Marriage Licenses - New York State. She narrowed the search to 1986 – 1989.
Claire held her breath as the small sentence surfaced:
February 25, 1988, Nathaniel Rawlings and Catherine Marie London- license of marriage.
Claire stared at the screen... Catherine Marie London.
She wasn’t sure how long she stared; a minute, an hour, a day, maybe ten? Claire’s world once again swayed from its axis. Catherine is Marie! Marie is Catherine! What does that mean?
She closed her eyes and reviewed. The nausea from her early pregnancy returned. The stress at the bank was nothing compared to the mayhem in her mind. It meant Catherine killed Samuel and Amanda Rawls. It meant Tony paid Patrick Chester yearly for Catherine’s freedom. It meant Catherine loved Nathaniel. According to Tony, Nathaniel loved her, too.
Despite the damn gray contacts, Claire’s tears of fear, rage, and sadness swelled behind the pigmented disks. She didn’t want to believe the thoughts and theories flooding her mind. She loved Catherine. The woman sustained her during the time of Tony’s domination. Claire reassured herself: Catherine is protecting me again.
However, she had to wonder, was this truly protection?
Catherine knew Claire’s greatest fear -- her biggest terror. She knew it was isolation. Catherine provided money – lots of money. However, suddenly Claire questioned -- how was this kinder than thirteen days sequestered in her suite? She and her baby would have every need met. Yet, when all was said and done, Claire’s need for love and companionship would remain unsatisfied for the rest of her life.
She laid ten Swiss Francs on the counter and stepped out into the bustling cosmopolitan city. Her hotel was only blocks away.
Claire, no Isabelle, entered the Hotel d'Angleterre in a mental fog. Her mind whirled with new and old information. The concierge’s greeting caught her off guard. “Buon pomeriggio, Seniora Alexander. Senior Alexander è qui, ti aspetta.” (Good afternoon Mrs. Alexander, Mr. Alexander is waiting for you.)
Mr. Alexander? She thought. “Grazie, dove?” (Thank you, where?)
“Egli è nella vostra suite, seniora.” (In your suite, ma’am)
Claire nodded and tried to smile. Panic from years before bubbled from the depths of her soul. The past few months with Tony held no hint of domination, yet she knew it existed. And now, if he were upstairs in her suite, what did that mean? Did he think she’d left him for his money? Did Catherine tell him? Was this all just a set-up, a test? Had she just failed? Claire decided company would be beneficial, “Mi sembra di aver smarrito la mia chiave, potreste aiutarmi?” (I seem to have misplaced my key, could you help me?)
“Si, seniora.” The concierge accompanied Seniora Alexander to the third floor suite. As they rode the elevator in silence, Claire’s mind spun with questions. When the doors opened, anticipation prevailed. She prayed, Please let Tony be here, and let us work this out.
The documents inside her purse were the key to over $200,000,000. More than anything, she longed to throw them in the nearest gutter. The only thing stopping the growing compulsion was the child moving inside of her. Never in Claire’s entire life had she hated herself as much as she did at this moment. Thankfully, her love for her baby overpowered her self-loathing.
Claire’s common sense demanded she go directly to her hotel and secure the documents inside a locked safe. Nevertheless, she was tired of listening to her mind. She needed to know what was happening in the USA, in Iowa, and at Tony’s estate. She had so many questions. And over the past week she’d formed many more: First and foremost... who was the real Marie Rawls? Tony admitted to seeing her since she killed his parents. Catherine admitted to being with the Rawls family when Nathaniel married Marie. This woman existed. Why hadn’t she turned up in any of their research?
The vibrant sky and tall limestone buildings disappeared beyond the sea of sidewalk tables and happy tourists. Isabelle politely intermingled and scanned the landscape. Slipping into an internet cafe, she ordered a tall tea. No question, her Italian was improving with each passing day. She settled into an available swivel chair next to a computer, logged onto the Wi-Fi, and transcended the ocean in search of information.
Information began to materialize: Parrott Press Wins Battle Against Rawlings Industries - Representative Promises Claire Nichols’ Rawlings Memoirs Published By October First. Claire’s heart sank... was there any way to stop this mess? Next story: Palo Alto Police Question Iowa City Police Regarding Lack of Cooperation with Anthony Rawlings. As of yet, no charges had been filed or restrictions placed on Mr. Rawlings’ travel. Mr. and Mrs. Vandersol have requested his passport be seized. Marcus Evergreen, Iowa City Prosecutor, was quoted as saying, “Mr. Rawlings is an upstanding law abiding citizen. Until we are convinced otherwise, he is free to live his life. He has a home and multibillion dollar business empire. We have no reason to assume he is a flight risk.”
Claire exited the current stories and began searching New Jersey records -- nothing on Marie Rawls. She remembered Nathaniel was incarcerated in 1987. Claire wasn’t sure when he married Marie. However, if he married her while in prison, that would have been in New York. Claire entered Marie Rawls into the data base of Marriage Licenses - New York State. She narrowed the search to 1986 – 1989.
Claire held her breath as the small sentence surfaced:
February 25, 1988, Nathaniel Rawlings and Catherine Marie London- license of marriage.
Claire stared at the screen... Catherine Marie London.
She wasn’t sure how long she stared; a minute, an hour, a day, maybe ten? Claire’s world once again swayed from its axis. Catherine is Marie! Marie is Catherine! What does that mean?
She closed her eyes and reviewed. The nausea from her early pregnancy returned. The stress at the bank was nothing compared to the mayhem in her mind. It meant Catherine killed Samuel and Amanda Rawls. It meant Tony paid Patrick Chester yearly for Catherine’s freedom. It meant Catherine loved Nathaniel. According to Tony, Nathaniel loved her, too.
Despite the damn gray contacts, Claire’s tears of fear, rage, and sadness swelled behind the pigmented disks. She didn’t want to believe the thoughts and theories flooding her mind. She loved Catherine. The woman sustained her during the time of Tony’s domination. Claire reassured herself: Catherine is protecting me again.
However, she had to wonder, was this truly protection?
Catherine knew Claire’s greatest fear -- her biggest terror. She knew it was isolation. Catherine provided money – lots of money. However, suddenly Claire questioned -- how was this kinder than thirteen days sequestered in her suite? She and her baby would have every need met. Yet, when all was said and done, Claire’s need for love and companionship would remain unsatisfied for the rest of her life.
She laid ten Swiss Francs on the counter and stepped out into the bustling cosmopolitan city. Her hotel was only blocks away.
Claire, no Isabelle, entered the Hotel d'Angleterre in a mental fog. Her mind whirled with new and old information. The concierge’s greeting caught her off guard. “Buon pomeriggio, Seniora Alexander. Senior Alexander è qui, ti aspetta.” (Good afternoon Mrs. Alexander, Mr. Alexander is waiting for you.)
Mr. Alexander? She thought. “Grazie, dove?” (Thank you, where?)
“Egli è nella vostra suite, seniora.” (In your suite, ma’am)
Claire nodded and tried to smile. Panic from years before bubbled from the depths of her soul. The past few months with Tony held no hint of domination, yet she knew it existed. And now, if he were upstairs in her suite, what did that mean? Did he think she’d left him for his money? Did Catherine tell him? Was this all just a set-up, a test? Had she just failed? Claire decided company would be beneficial, “Mi sembra di aver smarrito la mia chiave, potreste aiutarmi?” (I seem to have misplaced my key, could you help me?)
“Si, seniora.” The concierge accompanied Seniora Alexander to the third floor suite. As they rode the elevator in silence, Claire’s mind spun with questions. When the doors opened, anticipation prevailed. She prayed, Please let Tony be here, and let us work this out.
