Beyond the Consequences Read online

Claire shook her head.

  “Have you ever worn a bathing suit in the shower?” he asked as they began to walk toward the house.

  “No, I can’t say that I have.”

  “Then it sounds as though you’ve been doing a good job following my rule.”

  Claire reached up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I know a few other things I’m good at doing.”

  He threaded his fingers through hers. “I think I may have an idea, but we’d better get upstairs and check out each one.”

  “Oh, we will. There’s no stopping mid-list. That’s my new rule,” Claire added with a grin.

  Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing, and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weakness.

  —Ann Landers

  IN MANY WAYS the Rawlings estate was like a small town: the people were close and not much went unnoticed. Though none of the staff except Shannon was required to live on the grounds, Phil had no desire to live anywhere else. His sentiments were shared by most of the other employees. At the old estate, each person had housing in the main house, now each person had his or her own apartment and all of the apartments were located in the same building. Needless to say, with the closeness of their working and living, private lives weren’t very private.

  The clock read after eleven when Phil heard the knock on his apartment door. With a grin, he threw on a pair of sweat pants and went to answer it. As he reached for the handle, he fully expected to find Taylor on the other side. Though they didn’t always spend the night at each other’s place, it did happen. In a modest attempt to keep their relationship under the radar, they would often wait until later at night to visit one another.

  Phil and Taylor’s relationship had been building since she first started working for the Rawlings family. At first Phil wondered if he was the only one who had feelings beyond that of security professional and coworker. He fought those thoughts as long as he could. Then as time passed, things became more personal. The first sign wasn’t truly sexual: it was a kinship. Phil could talk to Taylor, really talk about things that he’d never uttered to anyone else. It started the day he told her about his family and continued to grow. The night he confessed his failure to protect Claire from Patrick Chester was the night he knew that Taylor was more than a friend.

  Their conversations weren’t one-sided. Although he thought he’d learned all there was to know about Taylor Walters before he authorized her hiring, he hadn’t. Her backstory was as messed up as his. Getting shot was a pivotal point in her life. The rehab was hell and she hated working behind the scenes. Neither one of them had been married or even in a relationship in recent history. Neither one believed another person could be trusted enough to be let in, especially let in on secrets. In some way, it was when Phil realized that he fully accepted and trusted Taylor to protect the Rawlingses that he could also trust her with his own story.

  Perhaps that’s how it was meant to be, just like the saying goes: birds of a feather.

  Romantically, Taylor had been the first one to make a move. Truthfully, if it had been left up to Phil, they’d probably never have made it out of the friend/coworker stage. Thinking about last night, the blood returned to his cheeks and a smile floated across his lips. They’d definitely moved beyond.

  Reaching for the handle, Phil opened the door. His smile quickly disappeared at the sight of Eric. His friend’s somber expression spoke volumes of unuttered concerns. Finally Phil broke the silence. “Hey man, what’s happening?”

  Eric’s worried eyes met Phil’s. “Can I come in?” He paused. “I mean, you’re alone, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Phil said, stepping backward, and opening the door farther. “Come in. What’s happening? You look like someone just killed your dog, and I know for a fact you don’t have one.”

  Eric closed the door behind him. “I just pulled up your surveillance on Patricia.”

  Phil had a program that continually monitored her virtual presence in her new identity. From her work presence, to her personal interaction, any time Patricia Miles logged into the world of cyberspace, it was duly recorded and catalogued. Though the program ran continually, Phil didn’t check it every day. He’d had his eyes on it more frequently at first, but lately it had been about once a week.

  “You did. Why?”

  Eric shrugged. “I know you check it regularly. I guess, with Nichol’s birthday and the anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings’ first marriage all coming up, I had a feeling.”

  “A feeling?” Phil didn’t like the vibe he was sensing. “What did you find?”

  “Nothing.”

  Phil waited for more as he contemplated Eric’s answer. Finally, reaching for his tablet, he said, “Fuck. What do you mean nothing?”

  “I mean nothing. There’s no record of her doing anything for the last four days.”

  Since Phil’s last check had been less than a week ago, four days would make sense. Bringing the program to life, Phil asked, “Have you mentioned this to anyone else?”

  “No. I found it earlier today. I ran some tests to see if maybe it was the program. When I couldn’t get anything definitive, I waited until you were alone to see if you could learn more. I’m hoping it’s some kind of glitch or malfunction with the surveillance.”

  “Have you mentioned anything about Patricia—at all—to Rawlings?”

  “No. With the new baby coming, he’d lose it. And I sure as hell wouldn’t say something to Mrs. Rawlings without telling him first. It’s just us. I wanted to run this by you. I wasn’t even sure how you felt about Taylor knowing.”

  The two men sat across the table from one another as Phil searched his tablet, typing furiously. “Stupid bitch.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She couldn’t let it go.”

  Eric nodded toward the tablet. “Can you verify her location?”

  After a moment, Phil nodded. “The last time I checked, her virtual presence was still in London. Her login information was active from her place of employment and her home.” He continued to type. “I see here where she applied for a new credit card.” The blood drained from his face as his heartbeat intensified. “Shit. You’re right. She hasn’t logged in from work in the four days. The new credit card isn’t under the same name we gave her, but it’s here. She was dumb enough to use her work computer to complete the application.” The two men sat in silence as Phil read his screen. “Shit. Here’s an airplane ticket. She probably thought that if she bought it at the airport using the new credit card we wouldn’t know.”

  Eric’s head moved slowly from side to side as he watched Phil.

  When Phil looked up, his hazel eyes narrowed. “She’s fuck’n stupid. By tracing the card I can even see the hotel where she’s staying.”

  Eric leaned forward. “In the States?”

  “In Cedar Rapids.”

  The air in the room dissipated as the sound of their breathing echoed. Finally, Eric asked, “Can you tell the room number?”

  Phil swallowed as their eyes met. “Yes.”

  “We gave her a chance—two really.”

  Ignoring the exorbitant pressure, Phil clenched his teeth harder. “That was two too many. Don’t say a word to anyone—anyone. I’ll be back by morning.”

  “I’m going with you,” Eric declared.

  “No, you’re not. You’re staying here.” Phil didn’t wait for Eric’s response. He was in order mode. “Watch the gate, watch the monitors. There’s no guarantee she’s sitting in that hotel room. Fuck!” Phil’s voice rose. “She’s been here for three days. What if she’d—?”

  “Like you said, she’s stupid. She doesn’t know we’re on to her.”

  “She’s arrogant. She thought by using a new name on the airline and hotel reservations we wouldn’t be able to find her.” Phil leaned over his tablet and typed again. Only the sound of the clicking keys filled the air until he stood a
nd said, “She has two tickets for her return flight to London, the day after tomorrow.”

  “Two?”

  “Yes, the second ticket is for a child.”

  Eric nodded. “I’ll go to the security office right now and watch. If you need me, call. I’ll be there.”

  “If anything happens, you don’t know a damned thing about this.”

  “Are you kidding me? Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve done my homework too. You’ve got this.”

  “I do,” Phil confirmed.

  THE SKY WAS still dark as Phil drove back to the estate. Though perhaps he should feel remorse, he didn’t. Patricia planned to take Nichol back to Europe. He saw the evidence in her hotel room: the drugs to subdue her and the hair bleach to change her appearance. When it came down to his family or Patricia, the subject wasn’t open for discussion. This time he didn’t give her a chance to explain.

  As soon as Phil found the airplane reservations he knew Patricia’s plans. Not only had she used a new alias for her trip, she also had an alias for Nichol. He found their fake passports when he cleaned out the hotel room. In his opinion, Patricia’s plan was confirmation of her ingenuity as well as her stupidity. The identification she had would lead the police to no one because Charlotte Peterson didn’t exist. Besides, it was winter in Iowa. The fields were frozen and covered with snow. Digging even a shallow grave was like digging through rock, but Phil did it. Unless her body was eaten by animals, which was a possibility, the insects would begin to feast in the spring. Soon after, the farmers would be out tilling their fields. Spring and autumn were the times of year when bodies were often discovered in rural America: planting and harvest season. After all, long desolate stretches of highway with nothing more than corn and soybean fields for miles and miles made the perfect dumping grounds. It happened all the time. In an attempt to further thwart police efforts at identification, Phil was kind enough to leave her identification—or her false ID. Without it, DNA tests would be done. Phil’s plan was that with the identification, evidence would be taken at face value: a woman named Charlotte Peterson was robbed, killed, and dumped. With a number of similar cases happening all the time, it was unlikely any further research would be performed. The case would be closed and another unclaimed body would be disposed of by the state.

  At a little after 5:00 AM Phil quietly made his way to his apartment. The cooks would be up and moving about soon, and he hoped to avoid their prying eyes. It wasn’t until he closed his apartment door and turned around that he saw Taylor. She was sitting up from where she’d fallen asleep on his sofa.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  Her blue eyes scanned him up and down, obviously taking in the caked mud on his boots and jeans. When she didn’t answer, he silently walked past her into his bedroom. Looking in the mirror he tried to imagine what she saw. Not only were his jeans and boots dirty, so was his jacket. Taking it off, he looked at his shirt beneath. The wrinkled cotton stuck to his skin, wet with perspiration. Thankfully there wasn’t any blood. Pulling his shirt over his head, he threw it toward a pile of laundry. As he did, he saw Taylor leaning against the doorjamb.

  “I never thought of you as the four-wheeling type.”

  “Taylor—”

  She shook her head. “Please don’t.”

  Sighing, he sat on the end of his bed and began unlacing his boots. He didn’t want her to know what he’d done. It wasn’t because of some false sense of pride. Phil wasn’t worried about what she’d think of him. He’d told her things he’d done in his past and she’d shared things she’d done.

  No, he didn’t want her to know because he wanted to protect her. Protect her, the Rawlingses, everyone. The fewer people who knew what happened, the better. Phil hadn’t seen her move, but now the bed shifted and she was sitting beside him with her hand on his back.

  “I don’t want you to lie to me,” she said.

  “I don’t want to, but you have to understand…” He continued to look down at his now loosened boots.

  Taylor reached for his face and turned it toward hers. “I do.” She gently kissed him. “I’m taking Mrs. Rawlings and Nichol to the Simmonses’ house today for her baby shower. Shannon’s coming with us. Eric will take Mr. Rawlings to the office. I don’t think he’ll be there all day, but either way, Eric will take care of it. Get some sleep…”

  “No, I can’t sleep.” He still couldn’t look her in the eye.

  She rubbed his bare shoulders. “You can. The adrenaline will ebb and you’ll crash.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ve been there.”

  Phil nodded. “I can’t tell you.”

  She continued to rub his shoulders. “I’m not asking. Someday if you’re ready, I’m here.”

  He turned to meet her light blue gaze. Phil didn’t know what he expected to see: condemnation, suspicion, or maybe judgment. Whatever he expected was not what he saw; instead, it was understanding and acceptance. Kissing her gently, he nodded. “Why were you here? How did you—”

  “I was on my way over to see you when I saw Eric. He didn’t see me but I waited for him to leave. He did, but you left at the same time. When you didn’t return, I went back to the main house to the security office and found him.”

  “Did he…?” Phil stopped, afraid of the answer he’d receive.

  “No. I didn’t pry. I could tell he was agitated. I don’t know what went down.” She glanced at Phil’s muddy boots and jeans. “And I don’t need to know, but I think you should try to sleep.”

  Phil’s arms suddenly became heavy and his shoulders ached. Stretching his fingers in and out he groaned. He wasn’t accustomed to manual labor and the shovel work had been incredibly difficult with the frozen ground. Phil nodded. “I think a hot shower first.”

  Taylor kissed him again. “I’d join you, but I’m guessing you’re not in the mood.”

  One corner of his mouth rose as he scanned her from head to toe. Though most of her long hair was secured behind her neck in a loose ponytail, sleeping had caused a few renegade strands to dangle near her pretty face. Her soft pants were tight in all the right places, and her big t-shirt was wide at the neck and exposed one of her bare shoulders. Her deep red, shiny toenails peeked out from the wide cuffs of her pants. Phil liked that no one but he ever saw those polished toes. Reaching out he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. As he looked into her blue eyes and loving smile he mused how much he liked Taylor’s relaxed side. The softness was a stark difference from her professional demeanor.

  Tipping his forehead toward hers, he said, “I know I’m an idiot for turning that down, but you’re right. I think I’m coming down, and I should try to get some sleep.”

  “Don’t worry,” she whispered as she palmed his cheeks and kissed his lips. “Eric and I have today covered.”

  Phil nodded.

  “Besides, I’m guessing our threat level has decreased.”

  Phil closed his eyes. Damn, even his eyelids were heavy. “Taylor…”

  She stood and looked at the clock on Phil’s bedside stand. “Shit, half the staff will be up and moving about, and here I go: the walk of shame.”

  He reached for her hand. “Sorry.”

  “I’m not. I’m glad you’re back, and I trust this won’t come back to anyone here?”

  “I did my best to assure that.”

  “Nothing more we can do.”

  She bent down and kissed him again. “I’ll tell Eric you’re back.”

  “I called him, but thanks.”

  With a faint smile, Taylor stepped back into the living room. As Phil took off his boots, he heard, “Walk of shame, here I come.” Carrying the mud-covered boots to the bathroom, he decided they needed to be thoroughly cleaned and his clothes would go in the washer before he put his tired body in that shower.

  Hours later the incessant ringing of his cell phone brought Phil back to life. His entire body ached as he rolled toward the sound. What time was it? He wrestled with his orientation as the name on his
screen came into view: Rawlings.

  “Hello?” Phil managed, trying not to sound like he was asleep in the early afternoon.

  “Roach, we need to talk.”

  Phil’s mind suddenly cleared. Had someone tipped off Rawlings? He sat up in bed, convincing himself that neither Eric nor Taylor would do that. Could Patricia’s body have been found? So many thoughts flew through his head as Phil replied, “Now?”

  “Yes, now. Come to the house. I’m in the office.”

  Phil closed his eyes as the line went dead.

  “THIS PARTY’S FOR my baby brover. My party’s gonna be bigger!” Nichol exclaimed.

  Claire shook her head. “Well, I’m not sure about bigger, but it will be for you.”

  “Yep,” Nichol reached out and spoke to Claire’s enlarged midsection. “Today’s for you, baby. Maybe you could decide to be a sister?”

  “Honey, we’ve talked about that. The doctors can see your brother with a special camera and they know he’s a boy.”

  “How do they know?”

  Claire looked from Nichol to Shannon who was shaking her head with a grin. “Oh my goodness, I’m not ready to have that talk with my three-year-old daughter.”

  The other ladies at the shower all laughed.

  Nichol’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m four.”

  “Well, not quite yet,” Emily corrected.

  “Aunt Em, did the doctors see Beff and know she’s a girl?”

  “They did.”

  “Momma, did you know about me too?”

  “We didn’t. Remember, Daddy and I were on the island when you were born. When we tried to find out, you didn’t want to tell—you were teasing us.”

  “Maybe my sister’s teasing you, too.” She leaned her mouth toward Claire’s stomach. “Are you teasing in there?”

  “Mrs. Rawlings, I’d be happy to take Nichol to the other room. I brought some books and games,” Shannon offered.

  “Nichol, why don’t you go with Shannon and when we open your brother’s presents you can come help me.”