“Yes, this is Ms. London.” “I see.” “When did this happen?” The menacing smile from earlier reappeared as she replied, “That is terrible.” Walking around to the other side of his desk, Catherine sat and reached for a paper and pen. “Can you please give me that information one more time?” He couldn’t see the words as she scribbled on the blank page. “Thank you, for the information. I’ll pass it on to Mrs. Burke. Please, keep me informed.” “Goodbye.” When she hung up, she leaned back against the soft leather and shook her head. “Tisk, tisk—It’s such a shame.”
Her words, combined with her expression, sent shivers down his spine; nonetheless, Anthony Rawlings had never backed away from a challenge—today wouldn’t be an exception.
“I believe you’re in my seat.” Ice dripped from his words.
“I believe I am”—she stood and motioned toward it—“Please, enjoy it while you can. I believe it would be better for you to hear this news while seated.”
He didn’t move forward; instead, he stood taller, towering over her with every bit of his six and a half foot build. “Why? What have you done?”
“Yes, it’s always me, isn’t it? Mr. Anthony Rawlings never got his hands dirty! We all know how important it was to appear innocent.”
“Catherine?”
She lowered herself once again to his chair and explained, “As executor of your estate, I’m kept abreast of pertinent Rawlings Industries information.”
He nodded.
“It seems as though one of Rawlings’ private jets has gone down.”
Tony’s knees buckled as he fought to remain standing. “Down?”
“There was a distress call, and shortly after, the plane disappeared from radar. The FAA is investigating—it’s assumed the plane has crashed. There’s no information regarding survivors—none are expected.”
“Why, Catherine? Who’s on that plane?”
Before Catherine could answer, they heard a knock at the door. Turning toward the sound, they both stared in silence. The second knock echoed as they waited. Finally, deliberately, Catherine walked to the door and opened it—at first, only she could see the person on the other side.
Initially, Tony didn’t recognize the voice. “I’m sorry, if I’m bothering you, I just finished the movie. If you’re still busy, I was thinking I may go for a walk—your gardens are lovely, even this early in the Spring.”
Catherine opened the door wider and ushered Sophia into the office. “No, Sophia, you aren’t bothering us”—leaning her head toward Tony, she said—“I’m sure you recognize Mr. Rawlings.”
Surprised by Catherine’s candid introduction, Tony worked to keep his external calm.
Sophia stopped and stared. “But I thought you were—”
Catherine interrupted, “We all did—it’s a miracle. He just came back moments ago.”
Tony stepped forward and offered his hand in greeting. “Mrs. Burke, I apologize for my abrupt departure a few months ago. I so wish we could’ve continued our conversation—I believe it would’ve been very enlightening.”
Before Sophia could respond, Catherine interjected, “Sophia, my dear, please have a seat. I’m afraid I have some terrible news to share.”
Tony’s back straightened, the muscles of his neck twitched, and the hairs stood to attention. Suddenly, he knew exactly what Catherine was about to say.
“My dear”—Catherine sat on the sofa next to Sophia. Taking Sophia’s hand in hers, she began—“We just received a call. I don’t know any way to say this, except quickly.”
Sophia eyed Catherine suspiciously. “What? Did something happen?”
“The Rawlings plane your husband was on—was on its way back to Iowa—and it went down.”
Sophia stared in disbelief.
Catherine continued, “The FAA is investigating.”
Shaking her head, Sophia found her voice, “Down? No—no—it isn’t true. There’s been some kind of mistake.”
Tony watched in horror as Sophia’s world crumbled around her. The display was both heartbreaking and educational—Tony was too late to save Derek. As Sophia’s tears fell, he also witnessed the previously unrecognized emotional toll of Nathaniel’s vendetta. Obviously, Catherine’s plans were in motion; suddenly, Tony’s mind swirled with possibilities—ways to stop further tragedies. As the whirlwind of thoughts cascaded, he heard another familiar name. Instantaneously, Tony felt the pain he’d just witnessed.
“...others on board...Rawlings’ employees...and...Brent Simmons.”
Before he could register his movements, Tony was standing in front of both women and his tone was harsh, “Catherine, we need to speak in private—now!”
Sophia sobbed quietly while Catherine stood and faced Tony. “I’ll get her settled, and then, I’ll return”—she straightened her shoulders—“Your concerns can wait. We both know, accidents happen—a few more minutes won’t change the past.”
Tony stepped backward, displaying restraint, solely for Sophia’s benefit. At this moment, he wanted to harm Catherine, more than he’d ever wanted to harm anyone. His reply came through clinched teeth, “Return quickly, this will end today.”
With that, Catherine led Sophia out of the office. Tony heard her say, “My dear, let me get you something to calm your nerves...”
Her voice trailed away, leaving Tony alone to reel with the news. Pacing the length of the office, he contemplated his best friend—the man with whom he’d finally been honest—the man who had a wife and children. Nausea erupted in Tony’s stomach as he thought about Courtney, Caleb, and Maryn. Did Courtney know? Had she received a similar call? His pocket vibrated.
The text was from Phil:
“LONDON’S TAKING BURKE TO SECOND FLOOR. VANDERSOLS ARE IN THE ROOM LABELED ‘S.E. SUITE’.”
Tony immediately texted back:
“CLAIRE’S OLD SUITE. ARE THEY OK?”
Response:
“NO SIGN OF DISTRESS”
Tony:
“KEEP THE MONITORS ON THEM. TELL ME IF ANY THING CHANGES.”
Phil:
“CAMERAS IN OFFICE WERE DISABLED—THEY’RE NOW ONLINE.”
Tony sat at the desk and accessed the computer. He didn’t know if he was more upset that Catherine hadn’t changed the passwords or that she knew his. Either way, he now knew exactly how his grandfather felt. Despite Tony’s best efforts—he too had trusted the wrong person. Accessing Catherine’s email, he found her correspondence with Emily. The Vandersols had come as a result of Catherine’s invitation. He wondered what exactly she had planned. Before he could give it more thought, he turned toward the opening door.
By the time she closed the door, he was half way across the room. “You bitch! You arranged for that plane to go down, didn’t you?”
Sounding somewhat apologetic, she explained, “I never intended for Brent Simmons to be on board. He wasn’t on the original manifest.”
“So, you’re admitting it?”
“I’m saying that when Claire felt she had no one else—she needed me. I thought it would be the same when she came back, but it wasn’t. You let her walk all over you! You were too blind to see how she manipulated you! Now we know why—it was only for your money.”
With the mention of his wife’s name and each step toward her, the crimson hue of the room darkened.
Catherine continued, “Sophia doesn’t need money, you saw to that, but with her husband gone, she’ll be alone—now she’ll need me.” Seemingly unaware of Tony’s rage, Catherine added, “Besides, her husband was a Burke.”
“Don’t you see how out of hand this has become?”
“Really”—Catherine explained—“Mrs. Simmons should consider it a gift.”
Tony stared in disbelief. “Sick! You’re not only crazy—you’re sick!”
“Mr. Rawlings, you’re dead wrong.” Smirking, she added, “I’ve waited a long time to say that.” Before he could respond, she continued, “You see, in your absence, your friend has been well—forgetful”—Catherine stepped closer—“You probably don’t remember how your grandmother suffered”—she laughed—“Of course, everyone says that. They say it’s the patient that suffers, but in reality, it isn’t. Oh, don’t get me wrong Sharron was a sweet, loving woman; however, the one who really suffered was Nathaniel. Every day, he sat with her, talked to her, held her, even when she couldn’t respond. It was tragic.” Catherine shook her head, lost in her own thoughts. “No one should ever have to deal with that. So you see, with Brent heading that direction, because forgetfulness is how it starts—Courtney has received the gift of not having to witness her husband suffer.”
