Behind His Eyes: Truth

When the police saw the 2013 video, they theorized that Claire left of her own free will. If that were true, wouldn’t she have taken more belongings? Wouldn’t she have taken more money? She had access. She had credit cards and an ATM card, yet they were all found in an Illinois hotel.

Being nearly 2:00 AM, Tony was alone in his office. The various screens displaying the estate were devoid of people. Everyone was fast asleep. Even the crickets outside his open windows knew to leave him in silence, yet with no one to hear, he spoke the question he’d been wrestling with for days, “Why, Claire? Why?” In one gulp, he downed the amber liquid from the crystal tumbler. Though the rich Glen Garioch whiskey went down smoothly, it didn’t ease the ache in his head or the pain in his chest.

Maintaining his facade for the last few days had successfully drained his strength. Tony needed sleep, but how could he sleep in their bed? He couldn’t even stand to enter their room or see the unfinished nursery. It was the not knowing that hurt the most. If he knew she were safe… If he knew she did this of her own free will… but he didn’t know. Last time—in 2012—he knew, and without a doubt, the pain he’d put her through back then added to his current torment.

How could Claire evaporate into thin air?

The BMW she’d driven was thoroughly searched by Iowa’s top CSI. Only her fingerprints, Clay’s, Eric’s, and Tony’s were discovered… no unknown clues.

For the first time in his life, Tony had dared to believe in happily-ever-after. It was a risk. At a young age he’d learned that it was unattainable; therefore, he’d never even tried… until Claire. Somehow, for a few short months, his everything was at his fingertips. The wealth, homes, and appearance of stability and sanity all meant nothing when he saw the pictures of Claire with Harry. Tony couldn’t be at that damn gala and know she was there with him. Hell, Tony hadn’t even known about their baby. He just knew, for the first time in his life, Anthony Rawlings was willing to risk public scrutiny to have what he wanted most. What mattered to him above anything else—the contents of his envelope. The problem was making her realize it.

Tony reached into his drawer and removed the envelope. It no longer brought the smile to his lips as it once had. Now, it was a blatant reminder of all he’d lost. Tossing it back into the drawer, he turned off the screens, and lay upon the soft leather sofa. His mind went back to 2011. On this very couch… on this luxurious carpet… on his desk. He smiled. There was hardly a place where they hadn’t been together. Damn, they’d been great. Despite the happy memories, the knife in his heart twisted. The things he’d done to her, the emptiness he’d given her—the regret was almost paralyzing.

Then somehow in this totally screwed-up world, when all was said and done, she’d taken him back. The happiness faded as doubts infiltrated his mind. If Claire left of her own free will, had any of the past four months been real? She’d accepted his ring. He told her every day how much he loved her. Had it all been a charade? Did she have her own agenda of revenge for his past sins? Tony didn’t want to think it was possible.

The pounding in his head brought moisture to his eyes. His words were barely audible. That was all right; they weren’t intended for anyone except the woman who wasn’t there. “I’m so sorry… for everything. Why? Why did you leave me?” As the tears coated his cheeks, he told himself, Anthony Rawlings doesn’t cry. He doesn’t apologize, and he doesn’t cry…

Perhaps there were stars falling, volcanoes erupting, or epic winds blowing. Truthfully, at that moment, the entire world could’ve been lost and neither one would have known.

—Aleatha Romig, CONVICTED

The small plane circled the island, losing altitude with each pass, until it finally came to a rest upon the calm, crystal-blue waters of the lagoon. From the air, Tony had seen the main home sprawled on a hill above the beach, as well as multiple other dwellings partially hidden by vegetation. From the lagoon, Tony looked up and saw a large patio. All he could make out were people whom he didn’t recognize. The propellers slowed as the engine died. Following Roach’s lead, Tony removed the sound-muffling ear phones.

“Are you ready?” Roach asked.

Tony had better be ready; he’d eluded the FBI and traveled halfway around the world for this. He prayed it was worth it, that Claire would, at the very least, hear him out. After all, the last time they’d spoken, he’d allowed his own disbelief and hurt to distort the meaning of her words. She’d tried to clarify, and he’d stayed true to form and been an ass. Tony hadn’t even considered what she’d been through during the past month, and when she tried to explain, he hung up on her. Steeling his shoulders, Tony replied, “I am. Do you think she’s up at the house?”

“I’m sure she heard the plane,” Roach replied. “I’d expect her to come down to greet us.”

“Us?”

“Well, there’re two of us. She doesn’t know you’re coming, but no one except me knows her location. I’d assume she’s expecting me.”

Tony nodded, as Phil stepped from the now beached plane. The hot, humid breeze filled the cabin, while white sand and palm trees brought back memories of his and Claire’s honeymoon. He wondered if Claire ever thought about that—if she thought about him. Taking a deep breath of salty air, Tony exited the plane. His shoes sunk with each step as sand covered the leather loafers. Looking up toward the greenery and flowers, Tony’s world stopped.