Truth (13 page)

Claire was lost in her thoughts of the
photos when Amber entered the condominium. Claire looked up at her
roommate and said, “Hi, I didn’t expect you this early.”

“
The day is too nice to
spend cooped up in my office. What’re you doing in
here?”

Claire explained her less than conventional
pile system. First, she had the stack of Rawls information. She was
surprised how easy it was to obtain supporting documentation that
Nathanial Rawls not only existed, but was married to a woman named
Sharron, had one son named Samuel. Samuel married a woman named
Amanda and they had one son, Anton. The information was all
available through public records from New Jersey. She’d even been
able to access the appropriate websites online while in prison. The
birth records confirmed Anton Rawls was born February 12, 1965, not
surprisingly, the same day as Anthony Rawlings. His change of name
didn’t include a change of birthdate. Claire wondered why he didn’t
change that too. It seemed like a serious piece of evidence to
overlook. He must not have deemed it necessary. Claire doubted he
ever considered his identity would be discovered. Truthfully,
without his box of secrets, it would have remained hidden.

As Claire and Amber discussed some of the
information, Claire picked up a police report from Santa Monica
Police Department. Claire asked, “How did Harry get these reports
about Samuel and Amanda’s deaths?”

“
Since it occurred in
California, I think he called in a few favors from some
investigators he used to work with.”

Claire scanned the report, “I haven’t seen
this before. It tells all about the scene and even has statements
from neighbors and…” flipping another page, “oh my, here’s the
statement from their son.” Claire pulled out a chair and sat. She
imagined a young Tony finding his parents dead in their Santa
Monica bungalow. Being only twenty-four, she shuttered at his
endured horror. Imagining wasn’t difficult; the report gave a very
detailed description of the crime scene. Thankfully there weren’t
pictures.

Claire’s parents’ death at
only twenty-one was tragic, but she wasn’t the one to find them.
Suddenly thoughts triggered. Could
Tony
be responsible for the death of
her parents? Could
he
be responsible for the death of his own parents?

In the information she
read about Nathanial Rawls’ trial there were actually
three
people responsible
for Nathanial’s conviction. Besides the security officer and FBI
agent, there was Samuel Rawls, Tony’s father. He testified for the
state. The articles said his testimony played a significant role in
the conviction. After all, being the son of the defendant and
present during most of the business dealings, he knew details.
Samuel testified he was against the avenues his father pursued to
increase their income. And although he voiced his objections, his
father was very strong willed. Claire recognized that familiar
trait.

As she learned more and more about Nathaniel
Rawls, Claire felt as though she knew him. She knew someone who
took after him in more ways than just dark eyes.

Claire checked the dates… Samuel and Amanda
were found by their son in September of 1989. Nathanial died while
incarcerated May of 1989. She continued to read the police
report:

Anton Rawls recalled entering the home, via
an unlocked door at approximately 8:30 PM. He stated the television
was on, and he called for his parents. When they didn’t answer he
walked in and found his mother on the floor of the kitchen. He ran
to her. She was unresponsive. He noticed blood and yelled for his
father. He found his father lying on the bed in the master bedroom.
The suspected weapon, a Weston revolver, was found beside Mr.
Rawls’ body. After discovering his father, Anton left the house and
used the neighbor’s phone to call the police.

Patrick Chester, neighbor, stated he heard
loud voices at the Rawls’ home earlier in the day in question. Mr.
Chester saw a small blue Honda but not the license plate. He
believed the car belonged to Samuel’s sister whom he’d seen once
before. He recalled Mrs. Rawls saying the woman was Samuel’s
sister. He didn’t know her name.

Claire quit reading and went back to her
computer. The website she accessed months before was entered into
the search engine. She used the web address from the bottom of the
printed pages holding the information regarding Nathanial and
Sharron’s records. While she waited for the site to load she went
back to the police report.

Mr. Chester stated the sister left during
the afternoon. He remembered, because he was outside working in his
yard and saw her leave. He heard voices from within the Rawls’
bungalow after she left. He was unable to confirm if the voices
were of the Rawls or the television. He didn’t see Anton Rawls
until he knocked on his door to call the police.

While scanning the computer screen, Claire
called to Amber, “Did you read this police report?”

Amber came through the archway from the
kitchen. “I did. It didn’t mean a lot to me. Why? Do you see
something interesting?”

“
I didn’t remember
Nathanial having two children. Yet, there’s a statement about
Samuel’s
sister
.”
Claire typed the necessary information into the New Jersey public
record’s website. “I’m trying to see if I can find any record of
her under Nathanial’s information.”

Amber stood behind Claire
as she typed. The information popped up:
Children: 01. Samuel Rawls
. Claire
tried another avenue; she typed in Sharron Rawls and waited. The
screen read:
Children: 01. Samuel
Rawls.
She looked up at Amber and shook
her head.

Amber exhaled, “Is there a name listed?”

“
No, not on this report.”
She scanned the pages. “I wonder if they pursued this angle. The
article I read before, said the crime scene
looked
like murder – suicide. Why
would they decide that, if someone else was there?” She hoped Tony
wasn’t truly responsible for his parents’ death. Maybe he included
the article because he felt their deaths were
a product of
the work of the
securities officer and FBI agent who testified at Nathanial’s
trial.

“
I don’t know. Maybe they
decided that person wasn’t connected.” Amber offered.

Claire shrugged and went back to the report.
It contained the dialogue of the 911 call. She read, thinking of
Tony calling about his own parents. No doubt, this kind of trauma
would have long lasting effects. His grandfather died and then only
months later his parents. She knew she shouldn’t, but Claire’s
heart ached for the young dark-eyed man. No wonder he had issues
with relationships and control.

Amber went back to the kitchen as Claire
settled into the high backed dining room chair. The dialogue on the
printed page incited goose bumps on her arms. She read:

21:02:36: Caller: I’m at 7208 Mongolia
Drive. Please send the police. I just found my parents and I think
they’re dead.

21:02:39: Operator: I will send the
authorities immediately. Please tell me your name.

21:03:02: Caller: My name -- my name is
Anton Rawls.

21:03:09: Operator: Anton, are you in the
house?

21:03:47: Caller: No. I’m next door.

21:04:07: Operator: Good. Don’t reenter the
residence until the police arrive. Did you see anyone else?

21:05:02: Caller: No. Send someone fast.

21:05:27: Operator: The Santa Monica Police
are on their way. They’ll be there in three minutes. Please stay on
the line with me. (silence) Anton? Are you there?

21:06:18: Caller: Yes -- I’m—I’m --
here.

21:06:49: Operator: Good. Did you see a
weapon?

21:07:13: Caller: I don’t remember.

21:07:42: Operator: Are you sure they’re
dead?

21:08:29: Caller: My mother is. I checked
her when I found her on the floor. (Gasp)Oh! There’s blood on my
hands, I didn’t even realize…

21:09:42: Operator: Did you say there’s
blood? (Voices in background) Anton? – Anton?

21:10:52: Caller: This is Patrick Chester.
Anton is sitting down. The cord doesn’t each that far. Are the
police on their way?

21:11:03: Operator: Yes, Patrick. Who are
you?

21:11:28: Caller: I’m the neighbor of the
Rawls. Anton called from my phone. Oh, I hear the sirens. Can I
hang up now?

21:12:01: Operator: Just another minute. Let
me please speak to one of the officers when they arrive.

21:13:12: Caller: All right, let me go
answer the door. (Silence – voices) This is Officer Griffiths – ten
four. (Line disconnected: 21:14:03).

Claire stared at the report and felt
moisture coat her cheeks. Yes, she hated her ex-husband for the
things he’d done to her, but no one should have to experience what
she just read. She placed the pages on the shiny polished table and
pushed back the tall upholstered chair with her feet. Dabbing her
eyes, she tried to focus on the melting stacks of pages before her.
It was too much. They were acquiring evidence to prove Tony’s
guilt, but at this moment Claire didn’t feel vengeance. She felt
pity for the man she’d loved.

Unconsciously, she used her sleeve to wipe
her eyes and massaged her throbbing temples. She couldn’t stop the
awful images of Tony’s parents that floated through her mind.
Trying desperately to think of something else, she remembered Amber
saying it was a nice day. She’d spent most of it inside. Claire
needed a break from all this information.

As she put the report on a
stack of pages, another title caught her attention:
Santa Monica Coroner’s Report.
Her stomach lurched. Claire didn’t want to read
more; she was on overload. Closing her eyes she contemplated the
unread information. Would it tell the estimated time of death? If
it did, would it condemn her ex-husband, or absolve him? Did she
want to know the evidence? Or could ignorance allow her
peace?

Opening her eyes she looked at the clutter.
The pounding in her head and twisting of her stomach told her to
walk away. She placed the coroner’s reports in a manila folder,
closed the folder, and allowed her hand to linger on the smooth
cardstock. The information wouldn’t go away. She could read it
another time. In more of a dream state, she continued to fight the
visualization of Amanda Rawls lying on her kitchen floor, a dark
red puddle of thick liquid surrounding her form.

By the time she and Emily were asked to
identify the bodies of her parents, they were cleaned, laid on cold
silver tables, and covered with clean white sheets. The coroner
reported they both died instantly; their deaths were quick and
painless.

Claire often hung to that information.
Losing people you love is difficult. It wasn’t a conscious thought
process, but those who remain often contemplate the final moments
of their loved ones lives. Claire imagined her parents driving down
the dark country road, talking jovially, laughing about some story
her mother was undoubtedly telling about one of her students. Her
mother often dominated the conversations. Claire’s father didn’t
mind, actually he seemed to enjoy the sound of his wife’s voice.
The endless chatting created a melody which sang continually
throughout Claire’s childhood.

The wet roads combined with wet leaves made
the road slippery. As physics would prove, their tires lost their
grip. The moisture and wet leaves widened the separation. Within an
instant, the car slid and the automobile connected a royal hundred
year old oak. Due to force and speed, her parents didn’t have time
to regret their drive or worry about their children. They just
transcended from a loving, happy discussion, directly to a heavenly
sleep. Many times in the months and years that followed, this
story, this fantasy, gave Claire peace. She never shared this
account with anyone, even Emily. Truthfully, she’d
compartmentalized the entire momentous event away. Nonetheless, it
occasionally decompartmentalized.

Groggily, she got up and walked into the
warm kitchen. Amber stood near the counter cutting vegetables. When
she looked up from the bright red, yellow, and green peppers, she
saw Claire’s tears. “What’s the matter?”

“
I just read the 911 call
from Samuel and Amanda’s crime scene. I feel bad for
Tony.”

At first Amber stood silently scanning
Claire’s face and expression, finally she spoke, “Do you remember
saying you thought I might have a halo?”

Claire nodded.

“
Well, I think you’d be a
better candidate.” Amber rinsed the vegetable juices from her hands
and dried them on a towel. Empathy no longer evident in her voice,
“I find it very difficult to feel compassion for the man who’s
caused you so much distress and could -- according to your theories
-- be responsible for my fiancé’s death.”

Claire walked to the kitchen table and
looked out at the street. Long shadows from the trees covered the
ground as the setting sun neared the western horizon. Watching the
pedestrians four stories below, she saw people wearing only light
jackets. It appeared the temperature had indeed risen. Maybe she
needed air.

“
I think I’m going to go
for a walk.”

Amber exhaled, “Claire, I wish you’d talk to
me. Tell me why I should feel compassion? I don’t get it?”

To be honest, Claire
didn’t
get it
either. Nonetheless, she was mad. Involuntarily, her neck
stiffened and shoulders squared. Intellectually she knew this was
ridiculous. Why would she be mad at Amber? Why did she feel the
need to suddenly defend Tony? “I think I’ll get something to eat at
one of the cafés. I’m sorry if you’re cooking me dinner.” Claire
turned to leave the kitchen.