Convicted (Consequences) by Aleatha Romig Page B

assignments and moved on. This was the first—the only—time he’d made personal contact with anyone. Claire also knew he respected her enough to keep their friendly relationship professional— or was it, their professional relationship friendly? Either way, it was more than he’d ever had, and she was grateful for his commitment.
    “I don’t know what it was about this afternoon,” Claire said. “Something didn’t feel right. I have no reason to be suspicious of Harry. He’s never been anything but nice to me. It’s just...I mean, I know how hard you’ve worked to keep our location secret, and with the help of some California policemen , he tracked me down?”
    “See, that’s the kind of intuition that’ll keep you and that baby safe”—Phil sat straighter—“I should also tell you, I’ve known about Mr. Rawlings’ plane since it happened, or since they released the information. I thought you knew and weren’t saying anything.”
    “No, I’ve been avoiding news from the states lately. I’m so tired of hearing about Emily’s quest to find me. It makes me feel guilty”—she looked back to Phil—“If we’re confessing, I should tell you, I left something for Tony in the safety deposit box in Geneva.”
    Phil’s brows creased.
    “It wasn’t like I told him where we’re going. I hoped that after Marcus Evergreen, or the FBI, contacted him, he’d know to get away from Catherine. I assumed he’d eventually get to Geneva, to the safety deposit box. I figured after he opened it, he’d want to contact me”—she snickered—“He won’t be happy to find his money is mostly gone.”
    Incredulous, Phil asked, “You left something in the box that allows him to contact you?”
    “I promise—he’s the only one who’ll know. I have a back-up plan if someone else gets in the box.”
    “Is that why you’ve been so hesitant to leave Europe?”
    She shrugged. “It was; however, after this afternoon, I’m ready.”
    Phil patted her hand as it rested upon her knee. “Good, we’ll leave soon.” Standing once again, he asked, “And where, Ms. Nichols, are we going?”
    Claire smiled, and this time, despite the colored contacts, even her eyes joined the celebration. “You swear it’s a real medical facility?” Phil nodded. “Then, Mr. Roach, I trust you, and we”—she paused and widened her grin—“the Alexanders, are going to paradise!”

 
     
     
    I cannot say whether things will get better if we change; what I can say is they must change if they are to get better .
    —Georg C. Lichtenberg
     
     
     
    Derek listened as Sophia talked about her unusual encounter with Mr. Rawlings. Although she held all the information, her expression was that of a doe in headlights, wide-eyed with wonder. He couldn’t understand why the CEO of his parent company would travel all the way to Provincetown and visit Sophia’s small studio.
    “I agreed to meet him for dinner, but he never showed. I guess that’s when he went missing. I’ve thought about calling the authorities and letting them know he was in my studio that Saturday morning...”
    “I don’t know if that’s necessary. I asked Roger a few more questions and did a few online searches. Apparently, prior to his disappearance, he was in FBI custody. All I’ve been able to figure is that it has something to do with Claire Nichols.”
    Sophia took a sip of her wine as they watched the waves of the Pacific Ocean crest and crash along the strip of shoreline. It was one of their favorite places to visit. Sophia would bring a blanket, and Derek would bring the picnic basket with wine and food. On this autumn day, the beach was virtually empty with the exception of a few dog owners allowing their pets the rare opportunity to exert energy. Sophia assumed the weather was too cool for the Californians. For a woman from the East Coast, the warm sunshine and brisk wind were perfect; sharing it with her husband made it heavenly.
    Thoughtfully, she