Beyond the Consequences: Book 5 of the Consequences Series (Volume 5) (9 page)

Decision is the courageous facing of issues, knowing that if they are not faced, problems will remain forever unanswered.

—Wilfred A. Peterson

ONCE WITHIN THE
hallway, Phil and Taylor moved silently away from the Rawlingses’ office toward the security hub for the estate. As they approached their destination, Phil’s gaze narrowed toward his new associate. Finally he voiced the question he’d been burning to ask, “What the hell did you almost say in there?”

Taylor’s neck straightened. “I was going to mention the possible location of Mr. Rawlings’ past assistant, Patricia Miles. She’s the prime suspect, and in their last report the FBI said that she was recently suspected to reside in a small town in Minnesota under an alias.”

“I didn’t share that information with you. How do you know that?”

Taylor’s hands found her hips as her voice dropped an octave. “I’m part of this team.” She motioned down the corridor toward the closed office doors. “Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings have accepted me. Eric has accepted my role. Maybe it’s time you eased up on your one-man crusade and accept that I’m here to help.”

“I never said you weren’t here to help. Helping doesn’t include scaring Claire or upsetting Rawlings with unsubstantiated information.”

“What’s unsubstantiated? I read the report. Patricia Miles is believed to be living as Melissa Garrison and working for a small law practice in Olivia, Minnesota. More definitive results are due back in a matter of weeks.”

Phil bristled. “There are some things that are better left unsaid.”

“Team, Mr. Roach, that’s how this works. Teams talk; they share.”

Phil reached out to grab Taylor’s elbow. “You want to talk about it? Fine, talk to me. Talk to Eric. Do not take this to either Rawlings or Claire until we have definitive answers. Even then, talk to me first. Security for this family is
my
detail.”

Taylor pulled her elbow free. “Excuse me, who was there when Rudolf came out of the stall? Who figured out the connection with Sophie?”

“I’m not saying that your assistance hasn’t been valued. What you did in New York was, well, it was more than I could’ve done, but you don’t understand all that they’ve been through, especially her.”

“Her? Your employer? Mr. Rawlings’s wife?”

Phil took a step back, assessing the meaning of Taylor’s question. “Yes, her. Her last few years have been difficult. She doesn’t need additional stress.”

As Taylor began to speak, Phil’s mind flashed with memories—snapshots in time—beginning when he received the call from Brent Simmons: the first time he’d heard the name
Claire Nichols
. At the time, it seemed simple enough. Phil had done investigative work for Simmons in the past. This time he was asked if he could locate a lost woman and work temporary surveillance. That was almost four years ago. Four years. Phil hadn’t spent four consecutive years with anyone since he left his parents’ home and joined the military. Four years was a lifetime: more than Nichol’s lifetime.

Not hearing Taylor’s response, Phil went on, “She’s all of those things. I’ve been with this family longer than anyone here, besides Eric. You don’t understand all that’s transpired.”

“Really?” she asked, snapping her neck so that her blue eyes blazed toward Phil. “Do you think that poorly of my investigative skills that I’d walk into a job with a family like the Rawlingses with no information about them? Why the hell did you support my hiring if you’d assume such ignorance?”

Phil briefly closed his eyes. He had no desire to get into this with anyone, especially his new associate. “Did I ever say that I supported your hiring?”

“Mrs. Rawlings said that you did. Perhaps I shouldn’t believe my employer?”

Damn. Claire always did talk too much, to everyone. “You had an impressive resume. I was particularly interested in your independent work since leaving the bureau.”

Yes, Phil had done his research too. He would never allow someone open access to
his
family without it. Taylor Walters had all the right schooling, a double major in psychology and criminology. She worked local law enforcement for seven years before joining the FBI. Six years at the bureau had her working hostage negotiation. There’s no doubt she had a way with diplomacy. Taylor excelled in her chosen field until she was shot in the line of duty. After rehab she was reassigned to a desk job: cybercrime. It only took a year of sitting behind the scenes until she left the FBI and pursued independent jobs, many not unlike some that Phil himself had done.

Taylor’s eyes widened. “I don’t recall that information being on my resume.”

“Now whose turn is it to be offended? Do you think I’d support, as Claire informed you, a hire that I hadn’t fully investigated? And if you think you learned all there is to know about this family by reading a book, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“I never said what research I did. Yes, the book was part of it; however, a very small part. I’m aware of more than you know. Since I’ve been here, I’ve also made it a point to know all I can about my coworkers.”

Phil shook his head. “I’m not trying to have a pissing contest with you. You’re here. I’m fine with that. Just don’t give either of them information on this particular subject without first running it by me. And I can tell you right now, I’m not going to approve sharing.”

“The FBI is already involved. They’re zeroing in on Ms. Miles. If you think you’re going to go in and remove the subject under their noses, you’re mistaken.”

“Am I now?”

Taylor leaned closer. “You want to keep the Rawlingses safe? Then don’t do something stupid so that you’re in prison and not here.”

“I appreciate the warning, Ms. Walters.”

Phil turned, leaving Taylor in the grand hall as he made his way toward the security office in the lower level. He half expected her to follow and equally as much didn’t. He didn’t really care. Women had always been unpredictable, even women as well trained as Taylor Walters. She’d proven herself under pressure, yet she couldn’t hide the fact she was missing a damn Y chromosome. He knew he should think of her like a partner, yet when they’d be sitting side by side going through footage or researching theories, he’d notice the sweet scent of perfume. It was different than Claire’s, lighter. Yet even as he entered the security office, he sensed it lingering in the air, accentuating her absence.

Sighing, Phil sat at his desk. He’d never meant to think of Taylor in a personal way. Doing so was an insult to her professionalism. She was qualified to be part of this detail. Phil closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He needed to get his head on straight. Why had Taylor questioned his protectiveness of Claire? It was his job. Obviously, he was nothing more to her than an employee. That wasn’t true. He and Claire were also friends.

Phil recalled the first time he saw Claire, his assignment, through the window in the Palo Alto condominium. A slight grin came to his lips as he remembered her smug expression in San Antonio when she knew she’d duped him. He still felt the heaviness in his chest as he ran toward her Palo Alto condominium, knowing that her life was in danger. Phil’s fascination and sense of duty involving Claire Nichols should have ended then and there. After all, Rawlings fired him. Whenever Phil remembered that terrible day, the firing was the least of his concerns. It was his failure to protect. If he’d done his job, he would’ve known about Patrick Chester. Instead he’d been lulled into a sense of the mundane, and it was Claire who’d paid the price.

When Catherine London called and asked Phil to help Claire disappear, he could’ve said no; however, he’d thought of it as his opportunity to atone for his error in judgment. Ms. London explained that Claire wanted to get away from Rawlings. It made sense. Phil had witnessed Rawlings’ intensity. Phil had failed to protect her from Chester; he wouldn’t fail to protect her from her ex-husband. Though once again, things weren’t as he’d been led to believe. Nothing with Claire ever was.

Phil remembered their time in Europe, running from Ms. London and outwitting the FBI. Scenes with historic backdrops replayed in the recesses of his mind. The woman who had been broken and mending in California was stronger than he’d ever imagined in Europe. No longer oppressed, as he’d later read about in her memoirs,
Mrs. Alexander
was determined to make a life for herself and her baby. Though it took many favors and promises, Phil secured the island for her. Nothing was too much to make her dream come true. However, it didn’t take long for Phil to realize that Ms. London had lied about Claire’s goal. She didn’t want to be separated from Rawlings. Without coming out and saying it, Phil knew she wanted the opposite. He couldn’t stand to see her sad—not in paradise. Therefore, instead of protecting her from Rawlings, Phil did what he needed to do to make Claire happy: he brought Rawlings to her.

That temporary surveillance job became something Phil had never known, ever. It became his life, his family. Though keeping Claire safe and happy was still his top priority, his sense of responsibility grew the evening he felt Nichol move within her mother. Nichol was an extension of Claire. Part of him wanted to hate the beautiful, brown-eyed girl for what she’d done to her mother upon her arrival. Never in all of his years of service had he felt so impotent. But once again, Claire’s strength showed through, and Phil adored the child as much as he did her mother. How could he not? Nichol was the only baby he’d ever held.

The sense of family somehow over time even transferred to Rawlings himself. The egotistical, narcissistic, hothead who’d originally hired him had morphed into a kindred spirit. Despite the Rawlingses’ past history, Phil and Rawlings had a shared interest in keeping this family safe. On the tragic day at the estate, when faced with the inevitable, Rawlings looked into Phil’s eyes and placed his infant daughter in his arms. Trust. After failing them in Palo Alto, Phil had earned it back.

Phil remembered holding Nichol inside of his jacket to keep her warm and protect her from the cold water of the sprinklers and the bitter Iowa spring temperature. However, after receiving the greatest gift he could imagine from Rawlings, Phil once again failed to protect Claire and all of their lives spiraled out of control.

During the next two years he could’ve walked away. No one would’ve blamed him. Hell, Brent Simmons told him to leave, for his own good. Phil didn’t care about
his
own good. He never had. One doesn’t do what he’d done throughout his life while being concerned about his own well-being. There had always been another reason.

Did his infatuation start that day in March of 2013 when he saw Claire through the fourth-floor window, or perhaps in San Antonio? Phil couldn’t say. He’d foolishly shown his cards in San Diego when he sent Claire the note with her room service. No matter the time it began, Phil’s sense of duty was too ingrained. The Rawlingses were his responsibility. He’d failed them before and he wouldn’t do it now.

No matter how mixed up Phil’s feelings were about Taylor, she’d saved Claire and Nichol from Rudolf. He should welcome her knowledge and assistance. However, that one act didn’t give her the ability to share unsubstantiated information. Phil was still the go-to man on this
team
, as she called it. And he would do anything to keep Claire away from the dark place where she was unreachable, the place she’d been for two long years. It wasn’t as simple as keeping her physically safe. It was keeping her mentally stable. The way he saw it, a sense of unwavering security was a strong component of that mental health.

Keeping his employers uninformed didn’t only apply to Claire. From Phil’s perspective, Rawlings didn’t need the responsibility. Phil had plans for the sender of those gifts and cards. If things didn’t go as he intended, the Rawlingses could honestly claim ignorance. Neither one of them needed a public and lengthy legal battle. They’d both had their share.

CLAIRE SIPPED HER
warm coffee as Courtney’s excitement bubbled forth with each word. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but I feel like I might burst! Brent and I are so excited about Caleb’s call. Can you believe it? Can you honestly believe it?” She raised her chin and turned her profile to the left. “Come on, tell me the truth. Do I look like a grandmother?”

Claire giggled as she shook her head. “No, but if you stop going to those every-three-week salon appointments, you might.”

“Nonsense. I don’t need to be a white-haired, frail little thing to be a grandmother. I’m going to be the hottest grandma this side of the Mississippi.”

Claire’s laugh filled the restaurant. “Yes, Cort, you are! How’s Julia feeling?”

“She’s having morning sickness, or as Caleb said, morning, noon, and night sickness.”

Claire scrunched her nose. “Poor thing. I remember that with Nichol. Mine didn’t last too long, but even one bout is too many.”

“I told her that it doesn’t usually last past the first trimester. I mean, look at Emily. She’s feeling well. Isn’t she?”

Claire nodded, swallowing a bite of her salad. “She is. She’s just starting the dreaded third trimester. You know, when you’re ready to be done. I remember sleeping a lot. Em can’t do that, not with Michael. I guess she can with Becca helping her, but it’s still hard. She seems tired most of the time.”