Free Truth by Aleatha Romig

waiting to drive him to the hotel.
    “ They’re pulling out all
the stops. I really think they want you,” Sophia said.
    “ We‘ll see what they
say.”
    “ Derek?”
    “ Yes?”
    “ I know we haven’t talked
about it. But, I know this may mean moving. I don’t care, as long
as I’m with you.” Sophia heard her husband exhale.
    “ You don’t know how much
that means. I won’t do anything without calling, I promise. I need
to go. I love you, and I can’t wait to see my something special .”
    “ I love you too.” They
hung-up.
     

 
     
    Things do not change. We
change.
- Henry David Thoreau
     
    Chapter 5
     
    Phillip Roach, Private Investigator,
contemplated his information; by triangulating cellphone towers
near a Palo Alto, California, street he narrowed the origination of
calls from a disposable cellphone making multiple calls to Emily
Vandersol, Claire Nichols’ sister. The area contained restaurants,
cafés, and residences; Phil didn’t know for sure it was Claire
Nichols or if she called from one of the businesses or a residence.
Nonetheless, his intuition told him, he was close.
    Phillip had useful
associates possessing resources he didn’t. Undoubtedly, he’d be
asked to fulfill favors in the future -- Quid pro quo. It was the way of his profession. With a client like
Anthony Rawlings, there was no deal Phil wasn’t willing to make.
Hell, he’d shake hands with the devil to continue this
alliance.
    Forwarding the telephone
number of the track phone and narrowing Ms. Nichols location to
Palo Alto would momentarily pacify Mr. Rawlings. Phil composed his
findings into a text message and promised more information in the
future. He hit SEND .
     
    *****
     
    Claire’s GPS directed her to the heart of
San Francisco’s financial district. Although the tall buildings and
steep streets created a maze, the computerized voice navigated her
to the two hundred block of California Street. “You have reached
your destination.”
    Goosebumps, incited by the late March wind,
rubbed against her smooth silk blouse as Claire walked from the
parking garage toward her goal. Just south of Chinatown, the
streets bustled with patrons. Yet, it wasn’t the people which
momentarily held her attention but the picturesque scene. Down from
the hills, a thick white blanket of fog covered the bay, penetrated
only by the pillars of the Golden Gate Bridge. Since her release
from prison, every view, every scene held wonder and awe. Claire
vowed never again to take freedom for granted.
    Over the last two weeks
she’d contemplated her presence. Although seemingly unimportant,
one question she’d pondered was her clothing style. Her attire
before her life with Tony --and during -- were worlds apart.
Shopping for herself, her desires, wants, needs, and choices proved
more difficult than she’d anticipated. Eventually, she concluded
her taste fell somewhere in between. Shopping alone and with her
money brought back the elation of finding great deals. Now, she
enjoyed Mrs. Rawlings quality clothing at reasonable prices – she even perused
sales racks. There was no question; intimate apparel was her
favorite purchase. Claire now owned more pretty panty and bra
combinations than one woman should have. She justified it as
overdue, well-deserved, and three years’ worth.
    Today, personifying the professional, Claire
donned wool slacks, a silk blouse, a complementary jacket, and
heels (with white lace panties and bra no one would see – but made
her happy).
    Although, the suite number
was the only outward sign, Mr. Pulvara’s office was easy to find.
Claire double checked Harry’s note; yes
this was the right one . Once inside, she
entered a small waiting area with a receptionist behind a glassed
partition. It reminded her of a doctor’s office. She confidently
approached the gray haired woman behind the window.
    “ Hello, my name is Claire
Nichols. I have an eleven o’clock appointment with Mr.
Pulvara.”
    “ Yes, Ms.