Consequences(8)

Still towering over her, he straightened his suit jacket and smoothed his tie. “I have decided that it would be better if you do not leave your suite for a while. Don’t worry. We have plenty of time, 215 thousand dollars—worth of time.” With that, he turned to leave the suite, the sound of broken crystal echoing from under his Gucci loafers. His controlled, imposing tone terrified Claire more than his words. He spoke with such authority it left her powerless to move or speak.

“I’ll inform the staff that you may have your breakfast, after you clean up this crystal.” He disappeared behind the large white door.

Claire heard the beep and the lock as she allowed herself to reach up and touch her stinging cheek. The total silence returned as she looked at the mess before her. Though it was a small, insignificant protest, she heard herself say, “I’d rather starve than clean this up.”

A while later, with tears in her eyes and the sound of sniffles, she found herself crawling around the floor retrieving pieces of crystal. She had most of the large pieces picked up when she noticed the blood on her robe. After investigating, Claire determined that it came from a cut on her hand. The blurriness of her vision made the task difficult as she tried unsuccessfully to remove the sliver of crystal from her palm. Suddenly, the too-familiar beep made her turn toward the door—terrified of Anthony’s return.

Catherine entered, looked around, and shook her head. “Ms. Claire, let me clean that. You’ll end up cutting yourself.”

“I believe I already have.” Claire held out her hand. Very tenderly, Catherine led Claire into the bathroom and removed the crystal. She then cleaned and bandaged her hand. When they returned to the suite, the evidence of the previous night was gone. The suite was clean, no overturned lamps, no scarves, and the vase was gone. Sitting on the table was a tray of food.

Claire walked to the table and obediently ate her breakfast—alone. An overwhelming feeling of desperation filled her chest. She was trapped, alone, and didn’t know what to do.

Grandma always said a new perspective was helpful. Claire decided to take a shower again, and then hopefully, she would think of something.





The trust of the innocent is the liar’s most useful tool.



—Stephen King





Chapter Two


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—Five Days Earlier—


The day filled with meetings served its purpose. First, he met with the station manager, then endless hours with the sales team listening to budget reports followed by proposals. Truthfully, these meetings didn’t usually warrant the attendance of the parent corporation’s CEO. Judging by the way WKPZ’s executives fell over themselves to justify every expense and augment every proposal—they demonstrated that they at least, recognized this visit as extraordinary. Truth be known, Anthony Rawlings didn’t give a damn about the two-bit television station. It already served its purpose. If he closed it tomorrow, he wouldn’t lose sleep; however, the meetings revealed that the station was turning a profit, and given the current state of economy, profitable was good. When he returned to the main office, he would assign a team to investigate an impending sale. Wouldn’t it be great if this acquired station could reap both personal and monetary benefits?

After the conclusion of the meetings, he agreed to a social outing with the new station personnel director and his assistant. If they knew anything about him, they would realize that this was completely out of character. Totally self-serving, his acceptance of their invitation came with one stipulation—they must go to the Red Wing. He told them, he’d heard it had the best fried green tomatoes in Atlanta, Georgia.