How had he been so wrong for so long? Had Samuel seen something in Catherine all those years ago that she’d somehow hidden from Nathaniel and Tony?

The door opened and Officer Hastings entered, bringing Tony’s thoughts back to the present. “Mr. Rawlings, we have a couple more questions for you.”

“Where are my attorneys?”

“They called and are on their way.”

Tony sat taller. “I believe I’ll wait. It’s in my best interest to postpone your questions until their arrival.”

“Mr. Rawlings, you aren’t calling the shots here. We want to know where you’ve been for the last six months?”

Tony’s jaw clenched in defiance as he silently stared at Officer Hastings.

“Perhaps you’d like to know about Ms. Nichols?” the officer baited.

“Mrs. Rawlings.” Tony glared. “Where is she?”

“Do you have proof of your marriage to Ms. Nichols?” Hastings clarified, “Your second marriage.”

Tony looked down at his left hand. Shit, he didn’t even have a wedding band, but Claire did. Their marriage was legal. After the ceremony on the beach, they’d gone to the city with Francis and completed the necessary legal documents. In an effort to remain hidden, they’d decided to not forward that information on to the United States government. That may make verifying their marriage more difficult; however, it didn’t nullify the legality of it. People married in different countries all the time.

Hastings taunted, “Without proof of your marriage, you have no claims or rights to information regarding Ms. Nichols.”

The thin veneer of control Tony had held on his decorum, splintered as his fist hit the metal table. The otherwise still room exploded with the echoing vibrations as his determined voice rose above the clatter. “Rawlings! Mrs. Claire Rawlings,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “Do not make me correct you again. And, no, I don’t have our marriage license in my damn pocket, but I can get proof. We remarried on October 27, 2013. Ask Claire.”

The doors once again opened and Tom Miller, the co-lead attorney at Rawlings Industries and Tony’s personal friend entered. Without a word, he stopped Tony’s rebuttal, silently warning him to say no more. Laying his briefcase on the table he turned to Hastings and politely asked, “Officer, I’m sure you’re not questioning my client after he’s asked for legal counsel, are you?”

“I’m not questioning him about the case. We need preliminary information.”

Tom leaned forward and slowed his speech. “His name is Anthony Rawlings. He is the CEO of Rawlings Industries. Unless you charge him with a crime, I will be taking him out of here today.” He lifted his brows. “What other preliminary information do you require, Officer?”

“Mr. Miller, at the very least, we need answers. Your client has been missing for the last six months. He needs to explain—”

“My client is a wealthy man,” Tom interrupted. “As such, he took an opportunity to travel and relax. I’m sure many people would like that ability. However, my client also oversees a billion-dollar company and therefore was never completely inaccessible.”

Tony spoke over the terse exchange, “Now that my counsel is here, I want to speak with him privately.” Tony suddenly worried that Tom’s speculations could further compromise his agreement with the FBI since he’d promised the feds he’d be completely inaccessible. After all, it was a very tangled web, one that would take days of explanations to unravel.

Biting back his rebuttal, Hastings glared toward Tony and replied, “This isn’t done. I’ll be back.” With that, he stood, knocked on the door, and left.

Once they were alone, Tony’s eyes widened. “Tom? Do you know about Brent?”

Tom nodded. “Yeah, this has been the day from hell. Bev went over to Courtney’s. She’s the one who told me that you and Claire were back, and then I got the call saying to come here. Where the hell have you been?”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “It’s a long story. Let me just start out by saying that Claire and I remarried. We have a daughter, Nichol. I’m going crazy here. I need to know that Claire and Nichol are all right.”

“I don’t know anything about your daughter. I’ve sent Stephens to the hospital to serve as Claire’s counsel. The last message I received before I turned over my phone was that she’s still unconscious.” Before Tony could reply, Tom asked, “What the hell happened?”

“I need to get to her, Tom. I don’t want anyone to make assumptions and hold anyone else responsible for my actions. I’ve been in contact with the FBI. There’s an agent—his name is Jackson—in Boston. If you contact him, he’ll corroborate my story and hopefully talk to the Iowa City police.” Unable to stay seated any longer, Tony stood and paced the length of the room and back. “Today was a train wreck. I came back, we came back,” he corrected, “because we were worried about John and Emily. We learned that they’d be at the estate, and we didn’t trust Catherine.”

Tom shook his head. “What? Wait. John and Emily? As in your ex-brother and sister-in-law, the same people who’ve told anyone and everyone that you were on the run after possibly killing Claire?”

“Yes, only no longer ex. I know what they’ve been saying. I also knew that if we contacted them they would stop. It doesn’t make sense, but I hoped that if they continued their allegations, it would keep them safe.”