Truth (44 page)

As Phil watched, Claire
walked back to her chair. He considered her words and thought to
himself,
bodyguard -- that does sound
better than paid voyeur
.

After her time by the pool, Claire went back
to her suite and made some calls. A lot had happened with Tony
since she’d last spoken with Courtney. Claire told her all about
Meredith and the agreement she hoped to secure with her tonight.
She also told Courtney about Tony’s surprise appearance the night
before.

Courtney filled Claire in on the progress of
Caleb and Julia’s wedding. With it less than a month away, Courtney
was trying to be as helpful as possible. Claire smiled, listening
to her friend go on and on about dresses, rehearsal dinner, and
tuxedos. Claire told her how much she’d like to help. They both
knew that wouldn’t happen. Nevertheless, Courtney promised lots and
lots of pictures.

Just before they hung-up,
Claire mentioned her other late night visitor. Claire couldn’t tell
Amber about what they did. It was refreshing to have a friend with
whom she could talk to about Harry. Courtney didn’t judge; she
listened. When Claire said Harry
did
make her smile, Courtney said
she couldn’t wait to meet him. Her last comment on the subject
caught Claire off guard. Courtney remarked, “Can you imagine if
Tony realized his visit was the push to advance your relationship
with Harry?” Claire hadn’t thought of it like that. She remembered
Harry’s question. If Courtney’s observation was right, was she
pushing Tony out, instead of letting Harry in?

Harry returned to the suite later in the
afternoon looking delicious in new jeans and a new black t-shirt.
Since he hadn’t planned on staying in San Diego, he was forced to
do some shopping. With a boyish smirk, he handed Claire a plastic
bag containing a box. She looked into the bag and returned his
smile from under her mascaraed lashes. It seemed silly to feel shy
about the box of condoms. However, when she noticed the number on
the side of the box she exhaled. She didn’t know they were sold by
the dozen.

Her thoughts went back to Palo Alto. Did his
bulk purchase mean he intended this arrangement to continue back at
the condominium? She wasn’t opposed. It would just be different.
This get-a-way was more like a holiday. Another issue requiring
more thought.

Just before seven o’clock, Harry asked
Claire, “I was thinking, instead of flying back to Palo Alto
tomorrow, maybe you’d be interested in driving?”

“
Driving? How long of a
drive is it?”

“
About eight
hours.”

Claire stared in disbelief. “Eight hours?!
Why do you want to do that?”

“
Because, Santa Monica is
about two and a half hours from here. And a friend of mine, known
for his amazing research, tracked down Patrick Chester.”

Claire contemplated for a moment, “Chester?
The neighbor of the Rawls? The man whose house Tony went to, to
make the 911 call?”

“
Yes, one and the same. If
you want to visit, I’ll call him this evening and see if we can
arrange a meeting.”

Her mind spun. That wasn’t
something she’d even considered. Claire thought
if Tony was upset about me visiting with Meredith, this would
throw him over the edge.
But then again,
she did have a reservation to fly back to Palo Alto at nine in the
morning. If she didn’t cancel, Phillip would once again lose track
of her, at least temporarily.

A knock came on the door of Claire’s suite
interrupting their conversation. Looking through the peep hole, she
saw Meredith. Just before opening the door, she turned to Harry and
replied, “If he’s willing to meet, let’s do it.”

Harry leaned down and kissed her. His voice
sounded huskier than before, “I’ll be back after your meeting. Have
a nice dinner.”

His smile made her pulse increase and her
stomach clench. She replied, “You, too. Sorry you’re eating
alone.”

“
I’ll survive.”

With that, Claire opened the door and
Meredith entered. Claire made quick introductions, “Meredith this
is Harrison Baldwin. Harry this is Meredith Banks.” The two shook
hands and made quick pleasantries. Harry excused himself and
left.

When the door shut, Meredith’s eyebrows shot
up, “Is he the man I’ve seen you with in the magazines.”

“
Are we off the
record?”

Meredith smiled, “Yes.”

Claire returned her smile, a little more
shyly, “Yes.”

“
My Claire, you certainly
know how to attract the good looking men. If I weren’t married, I’d
ask your secret.”

Their easy banter quickly disappeared as
Claire explained the loss of Meredith’s blog.

Meredith stared in disbelief, “I thought
there was a problem with the server due to the excessive number of
hits. I never dreamt it could be due to Mr. Rawlings.” She sat in
silence for a moment and added, “So, is this an example of what he
can do?”

Claire nodded. “It is. Are you sure you want
to do this. He was here last night, and I can promise he isn’t
supportive.”

“
He was here? So you two
are still talking, after everything... the prison thing and
all?”

Claire nodded, “Honestly, I don’t know if
I’d call it conversation. I’m speaking, he’s speaking... well you
get the picture.”

Meredith nodded affirmatively.

“
He set some boundaries.”
Claire explained briefly, “At this time I’m inclined to respect
them. It’s a quid pro quo thing.”

Meredith laid her purse on the table, pulled
a small laptop from her bag and turned it on. “All right then, lay
it on me. What are the rules?”

Claire snickered, “Oh, you have no
idea.”

She and Meredith discussed
the new rules: They would continue to meet, Claire would tell her
story, it could be written, but it would only be published
if
Tony failed to keep
Claire and her close friends safe. During the conversation, Claire
realized Meredith needed compensation for
lack of publication
. Claire could
help with some of that, but decided if Tony wanted to keep this
quiet, he could help float the bill.

After dinner, Claire gave Meredith a small
sample of what she could expect. It began with the story of a
twenty-five year old woman working at a local news affiliate in
Atlanta, Georgia. After ten, Claire decided she was done talking
for the night. Their story ended with that same woman waking in an
unknown room. Claire didn’t begin to describe the woman’s physical
condition, just the terror of a lost day and the unknown.

Meredith typed feverishly and conceded, “I
want this story. I’m willing to do anything and follow any rules to
be the one to write it.”

They agreed to meet again in a week. This
time Meredith would travel to Palo Alto.

Claire’s airline reservation required her to
leave the hotel early. Even though she wouldn’t board the flight,
Harry and Claire chose to stay on schedule. It would help their
illusion with Phillip Roach. Their night hadn’t been as late as the
night before. Nonetheless, Harry’s trip to the drug store wasn’t
for naught.

When Harry and Claire arrived at the
airport, they traded Claire’s Mazda 3, for a Mustang Convertible.
As Harry lowered the roof on the bright blue muscle car, Claire
secured her hair in a ponytail. She smiled and chose not to respond
to Harry’s comments as he put Claire’s luggage in the car. He
mumbled something under his breath about how happy he was he didn’t
have luggage. Claire’s suitcases seemed to fill most of the trunk.
Shaking his head he repeated, “It was only a three day trip.”

The ocean breeze helped disperse the clouds
and create bright blue patches high above, matching the paint of
the Mustang. Harry eased the rental car into the light Sunday
traffic of I-5N. Claire laid her head against the seat and enjoyed
the sun and wind on her face.

She didn’t often allow herself to think
about prison. It was easier to keep it compartmentalized away.
Nevertheless, sometimes the isolation and incarceration came
rushing back. The memories of days, weeks, and months with limited
interaction, fresh air or sunshine would infiltrate an otherwise
happy day. It happened as she listened to Led Zeplin sing about a
stairway to heaven. Closing her eyes behind the Oliver Peoples
sunglasses she relished the warmth and tingling on her cheeks. It
was all such a contrast to those dark months. Claire didn’t even
realize she was lingering on her own sad memories until she felt
the tears slip from her eyes. Harry reached for her hand and
squeezed, offering comfort.

He turned down the music and leaned toward
her, “Are you all right? If you don’t want to do this, I
understand. Amber told me the police reports upset you.”

Claire took a tissue from her purse. “It
isn’t that. I really haven’t given this whole meeting a lot of
thought.”

“
What is it?”

She exhaled. “I just love the sun and
wind.”

Harry smiled and squeezed her hand again.
“Well, if it makes you cry, maybe we should avoid things you
love.”

Claire grinned through her tears, “How about
I try not to cry, and we enjoy lots of sun and wind.”

“
You don’t need to
try
anything.”

A few minutes later, Claire volunteered
softly, “Sometimes I remember what it was like to only see the sun
for an hour a day.”

Harry exhaled. His grip intensified upon the
steering wheel, “I forget about your time in prison. You never talk
about it.” She shook her head. His eyes screamed compassion as his
blonde unruly hair blew in the wind. “You can cry, laugh or scream,
anything that helps. Go for it.”

She squeezed his hand, laid her head against
the head rest, closed her eyes, opened her mouth and screamed! It
was like nothing she’d ever done before. She didn’t look at Harry;
her eyes stayed closed tight. They were traveling at approximately
seventy miles per hour, with the wind blowing wisps of her tied
back hair and the sun bathing her cheeks.

Although her first attempt was weak, Claire
didn’t quit. She pictured her cell, the cement block walls, and
sparse furnishings. She tried again. This time she felt the sound
begin in her diaphragm, travel up her throat, and explode through
her lips.

Without thinking she felt the smile creep
onto her face. Despite the memories, the outlet filled her with
hope. When had she last screamed? Really screamed? There were
plenty of opportunities, but she’d never done it.

Feeling the release, from her toes to her
eyebrows, Claire scrunched her eyes tighter and gave the scream one
more try. This one lasted longer, going on and on. Her eventual
silence came only due to the deflation of her lungs. Nevertheless,
once they inflated again, the sound morphed to a giggle, starting
as a lonely chuckle and propagating. By the time she opened her
eyes, tears leaked from her lids, not from sadness, but from the
rush of release.

Harry tried to maintain his focus on the
highway. There were other cars as well as big trucks. The lack of
roof made the rush of wind and sound so much louder than it’d be
normally. However, the woman beside him filled him with awe. When
he’d said to scream, he never expected her to take him up on it.
But there she was head back, emerald eyes hidden behind lids and
sunglasses, with her mouth open wide.

His peripheral vision refused to release her
image, even for one second. The second scream was louder. The third
was beyond belief. For a moment he thought about Claire in a prison
cell. In that instant his chest filled with angst for her plight.
Yet, that thought was but a flash. Claire started to laugh. Yes,
Harry couldn’t believe his ears. Her chuckle grew becoming
infectious. His expression of disbelief changed, as if his lips
started at below zero and within seconds became zero and soon
forty-five degrees. When she finally opened her eyes, he couldn’t
contain his own laughter.

Never could he remember feeling the
admiration for someone he currently felt for Claire Nichols. How
could anyone let her go?

At that second, Harry realized, no one
could. Anthony Rawlings would never let her go. If Claire were to
be part of his life, so would Anthony Rawlings. He forced a smile
and glanced toward her hidden eyes.

Claire’s voice transcended the rush of air,
“Thank you. I really do like the car and the drive.”

“
You’re very welcome,
anytime.”

With her cheeks still raised and her lips
turned upward, she moved her glance to the right. He thought about
the woman who arrived at Amber’s apartment; would that woman have
screamed at the top of her lungs, on highway 5-N? Would she have
joined him in their activities over the last two days? Harry wasn’t
sure. He knew the petite brunette at his side was a mass of
contrary emotions and actions. Beyond anything, he longed to
explore every one of them.

Claire glanced back at Harry as he
suggested, “I know this great place in Oceanside for Sunday brunch.
Are you up for stopping on our way to Santa Monica?”

“
Yes, it sounds
great.”

All secrets are deep. All
secrets become dark.
That’s in the nature of secrets.
-
Cory Doctorow

Chapter 28

With the wind in her hair, Claire’s thoughts
disappeared into the ribbon of white sand and rolling waves. She
watched as a few lone souls, in wetsuits, walked the shore carrying
surfboards in search of the perfect wave. The table she shared with
Harry at the Beach Break Cafe was covered by a blue umbrella. Under
that same table, Claire’s sandaled feet rested upon a carpet of
sand. Inhaling the salty surf she relished the perfect atmosphere
for Sunday brunch and sipped her coffee.