Convicted
Page 23
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.”
“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.”
