“Mommy did that. We have matching shoes, too. See.” Nichol lifted her shoes near the doll’s feet.
“I don’t think I’ve asked you: how did you come up with that pretty name?”
“I named her for the lady who painted the pretty picture of Momma, the one of Momma in her beautiful princess dress.”
“You did?” Claire asked.
“Yep,” Nichol said. “I like her name, and she painted good. You look pretty in that picture.”
Claire’s eyes met Tony’s, seeing a hint of sadness swirl below the surface. “You’re right, princess,” he said. “She did do a good job, and your mommy looked even prettier in real life than she does in that painting.”
The theater darkened and the music began. It wasn’t until Tony had had the chance to speak with Phil during intermission that Claire noticed his change in demeanor. When he looked her way, she silently questioned him. He only shook his head and mouthed, “Later.”
Once they were back in the limousine after the show, the pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place. As Nichol snuggled against Claire’s side and watched the lights through the window, Tony said, “We’re going home tomorrow morning.”
Lowering her voice, Claire replied, “Why? What happened?”
Shaking his head, he looked down at Nichol.
“But something happened, didn’t it?” she whispered.
Tony pulled out his phone and opened up the camera application. Silently, he handed it to his wife. Adjusting her eyes to the small screen, Claire looked down at the image. The picture was of a plastic bag with an envelope with the name Nichol Rawlings printed on the outside. Claire’s forehead furrowed.
“Swipe the screen,” Tony commanded. Claire did. The next was a picture of a similar bag containing a similar envelope with the name Claire Rawlings on the outside.
“Where were these?” Claire asked, keeping her tone low.
“On our seats in the private box.”
“On our seats?” she questioned, trying unsuccessfully to speak quietly. “But we just made these reservations.”
“Roach is running leads. The reservations weren’t in our name.”
Claire looked closer at the screen and enlarged the image. “They’re different, more like the recent I’ll save you messages. The names are handwritten and it says Rawlings, not Rawls.”
Tony nodded. “Roach contacted the FBI. They’ve taken the envelopes and will call as soon as they know anything. The fact that they’re different worries me more than if they were the same.”
Claire glanced at Nichol who appeared unfazed as she stared out the window, her little eyelids growing heavy as she struggled to watch all the sights just beyond her reach. “How could anyone know where we were?” With the light from the street and line of lights within, Claire saw Tony’s jaw clench and unclench.
“I don’t know,” her husband replied. “That isn’t all. There was another one, addressed to you, waiting at the restaurant.”
Claire’s stomach fell. “The restaurant? Where we just ate? It was waiting for me?”
Tony reached for her hand. “I’m not trying to scare you, but this is serious.”
“I agree. What did they say?”
“We don’t know. The FBI told us not to open anything. Once they do, we’ll know more.”
“Tony…” Claire peered down at Nichol, who, despite the chaos around her, had fallen asleep with her forehead against the window. “…I’m scared.”
He scooted near and pulled her closer. “I’d feel better if we were home. I have a few early meetings, but then we’re heading back to Iowa.”