Joshua hired a private investigator to tail Chandler. Then he began putting his estate in order, something he'd been meaning to do for some time. He knew better than take Chandler's threat lightly.
Having dealt with criminals throughout his career, he knew how criminal minds worked. He also knew they could be deadly foes if provoked.
Joshua's vacation time arrived, and instead of taking a cruise as previously planned, he and Angela flew to Montana to the little town where his old college chum, James Matheson, resided and managed the local bank. He set up a generous savings account for Rochelle, putting cash and necessary documents in a safety deposit box.
When he and Angela returned home, Joshua put another large sum of money in Rochelle's name at his bank, and stuffed a safety deposit box with cash, the total sum enough for her to live on comfortably for years. He made Bentley Harrison, Rochelle's godfather, executor of his estate, and then informed his daughter of the plans put in place for her.
Rochelle was amused. “That why you and mom went to Montana? Dad, I'm touched that you're thinking of my welfare, but you're being ridiculous. What makes you think I'll need all this financial assistance eventually?”
“Rochelle, I've decided it's no use to try and convince you of the kind of man Tobias Chandler is. He's a dangerous man who is capable of about any crime you can imagine, and if you ever became a threat to him, he would snuff out your life in a minute. One day you'll come to know that what I'm telling you is true. Your refusal to consider our advice leaves your mother and me desperate to protect you as best we can. We've done the only thing we know to do.
We've set aside enough money so you'll never want for anything when this mockery of a relationship turns sour, and I guarantee it will. The money will enable you sufficient funds to live on when the time comes.”
Rochelle rolled her eyes, and made a scoffing sound. “This is demoralizing. I think you and Mom are losing your minds or becoming paranoiac. I've seen nothing in Tobias's character to earn such distrust.”
More sweet delusion, Joshua thought.
“In the small town in Montana where we took you on your tenth birthday, my old friend, James Matheson, will advise you on investments when the time comes. Take these safety-deposit box keys and never, under any circumstance tell Chandler about them. Promise me, Rochelle.”
Rochelle laughed, not intending any disrespect, but it reminded Joshua of how Chandler had laughed at him while serving up taunts of contempt. He could only shake his head in exasperation at his daughter's innocent trust of one of the most ruthless and malevolent men in Miami, Florida.
“Okay, Dad, I promise you I will put the keys in a safe place and never tell Tobias about them. You've presented your case against Tobias, and I find him not guilty, so do us both a favor and drop it.”
“All I ask is that you avoid being too overly trusting, Rochelle.
It's not a good trait to have with anyone, especially with a man like Tobias Chandler. Be a little wary, sweetheart. You're still too young to understand the implications I've tried to impress upon you.”
Rochelle threw up her hands and jumped to her feet. “All right!” she screamed. “You're driving me crazy. For God's sake, Dad, what is it you want of me?”
Joshua sighed in exasperation. “I want you to be safe and happy, honey. That's all I've ever wanted.”
She scrunched up her face in puzzlement as something crossed her mind. “Has Tobias said something to upset you?”
“No,” he said, lying outright. He didn't want his daughter running interference for him. That would impose even greater danger for them.
“Rest assured, Dad, I'll do as you ask with the keys if that will make you happy.”
Joshua nodded. He had done all he knew to do. The rest was up to her. He sighed, and left her standing there while he rushed to his study to hide the pain behind his moist eyes.
JOSHUA RATHBONE BEGAN compiling what little information the private detective brought him. The stack grew thicker over time, but when Joshua reviewed it, piece by piece, not much was usable against Tobias in a court of law. It seemed the man resided behind a protective glass wall where no one could touch him.
Finally, however, he got the big break he had been waiting for.
The detective brought him pictures of Tobias having lunch with one of the local judges, and passing a thick envelope across the table to the Honorable Jackson Etheridge. Joshua felt hopeful. At least he had a name attached to the justice system that the state attorney would find worthy of investigation. Joshua made extra copies and put them in his safety deposit box. He wavered between going to the police and going directly to Tobias. He decided on the latter. His goal was to rescue his daughter before they were married. He hoped to use what he had as bargaining power.
Tobias agreed to meet with Joshua in a parking lot he suggested. Joshua went over and over his plan, but when he presented the pictures to Tobias, the man wasn't the least intimidated. Instead, he was angry as hell. He grabbed Joshua by the shirtfront and demanded he back off. He then proceeded to rip the pictures into tiny bits, watching them sail off in the wind across the parking lot.
“Rathbone, I'm not a man to waste time with fools like you. This is your only warning. Get off my fucking back!”
Then more calmly and succinctly, he stated, “I want all the negatives and all the copies you have of those photographs, along with anything else you've gathered. I also want the name of the person responsible for collecting them. If I don't get them, your beautiful daughter might step off the curb into an oncoming car, or something equally dramatic.” A contemptuous grin curved at the corners of his mouth when he saw Rathbone's expression. It reflected the bitter taste of bile and fear.
Joshua's heart stopped beating in his chest for what seemed like minutes. He never considered the possibility Rochelle might be in any immediate danger, having instead, taken Tobias's recent threat against himself as the area for concern. Now, however, the son of a bitch had struck home to the core. He had threatened Rochelle, and it was all that was necessary to defeat Joshua. This meeting became a finale to any further attempts of retribution against Chandler.
Tobias knew he had won the battle. He could smell Joshua's fear. The man was weaker than he first thought, stronger than hell as a criminal attorney, but a piece of shit when threat hung over him.
“Here's what you're going to do, Rathbone,” Tobias commanded.
“You're going to give me all the pictures and the negatives. I also want the name of your private dick.”
The next day, Joshua met Tobias in the same parking lot. He brought the pictures and negatives taken from his safe deposit box, and turned them over to Tobias, along with a manila folder of documents. Joshua refused to give him the name of the private investigator.
In the next few days that followed, Joshua sensed he was being tailed. One car in particular seemed to be close on his bumper wherever he went. Unfortunately, his discovery of the tail came after he made a trip to the investigator to cancel the investigation and warn him of possible retaliation from Tobias.
“Be careful, Simmons. I didn't give him your name, but that offers no guarantee of protection. The man is evil and dangerous. If he sees you as a threat, well…” There was no need to finish his thought.
SEVEN DAYS LATER, after Tobias discovered the name and location of the private investigator, Elton Simmons, someone found the man's body in an alley. The files in his office were dumped and scattered all over the floor, and any information bearing Tobias's name disappeared. An autopsy on Simmons showed he died of a drug overdose.
The day after the discovery of Simmons's body, Joshua and Angela Rathbone were driving to their favorite restaurant for lunch and died in a freak car accident. A huge tractor-trailer plowed into the back of their car at a stop light literally pulverizing the car and the occupants within.
The driver fled the scene. The tractor-trailer was untraceable because the license plate was missing, there was no registered owner, and no vehicle identification number found on the rig.
Accidental death was what the medical examiner wrote on Joshua and Angela's death certificates.
Their deaths would mark new directions in Rochelle's life.
ROCHELLE CAME DOWN the stairs rubbing her eyes. Her hair was tousled and disorderly. Her usual careful attendance to her personal appearance had been totally ignored after the housekeeper awakened her from a late mid-morning sleep with the announcement that the police were downstairs asking for her. Quickly pulling on a long bathrobe, she trudged tiredly downstairs trying to shake off the fatigue. She was with Tobias until after two in the morning, and could have slept until noon if left undisturbed.
“What's wrong?” she asked immediately upon seeing two policemen standing in the foyer. “Why are you here?” Then turning toward the housekeeper, she asked, “Where's Mama?”
“Why don't we go in the living room so you can sit down,” one of the officers suggested, suddenly looking larger than life to Rochelle. The first tingly fear raced along her spine.
Without saying more, she turned and went to the spacious living room, and lowered herself to the chair her father usually sat in. She did not realize it until she stuck out her hand to offer the two policemen seats that she was shaking all over. Her hand trembled badly. She pulled it back and clasped her fingers together in her lap.
The housekeeper stood inconspicuously nearby.
Both policemen sat down on the sofa across from her, staring at her much too long before they spoke. They looked terribly ill at ease. Finally, the shorter of the two leaned forward and questioned,
“Miss Rathbone, are you the daughter of Joshua and Angela Rathbone?”
Rochelle sent them a sharp questioning look. Tingly fear escalated with prickly currents all through her, and she sat up a little straighter. Her attention was on alert, completely focused now.
“Yes, I am their daughter. Why do you ask?” Her voice was shaky and her lips quivered. She felt all strength flow from her body.
Police officers did not come knocking on one's door unless something had happened. She grabbed the chair arms with her hands and braced herself.
“Miss Rathbone, we're sorry to inform you, but your parents were in an accident.”
She said anything, just looked at them, waiting, thinking they might say more, might explain. Finally, the word accident began to sink in slowly. “An accident, you say?”
She pushed herself from the chair to her feet, balancing herself by easing behind the chair and grabbing onto it for support. She stared at the men. “Where are they? Are they all right? What hospital are they in? I have to get dressed and go to them.” She started toward the door, her knees precariously unstable, and both police officers came to their feet. One reached out and took her arm.
“Miss Rathbone. They are not at the hospital. It's worse than that.”
She froze. Her face froze. Then like a piece of ice cracking from a gigantic force, her expression became a shattered reflection of pain. Her knees buckled and she collapsed.
“No…” she whispered.
One policeman shot an arm about her waist, stopping her downward plunge before she collapsed entirely upon the carpeted floor. He eased her back to the sofa where she slumped as though her bones were jelly. Her eyes pooled with moisture. Her anguish burst like a thunderstorm in loud sobs.
Grief and thoughts poured through her mind. She thought about the warnings from her father about Tobias, and the financial considerations he took on her behalf. She had laughed at him. Yet, now it occurred to her, her father had anticipated death when he made those financial provisions for her. Doubts churned involuntarily like an incomplete puzzle with missing pieces. She mentally fought against believing the nagging suspicion that her parents' deaths might be more than a mere accident.
Was Tobias responsible for her parents' deaths?
One of the policemen began explaining about the accident, mostly speculating. “The tractor trailer couldn't stop in time. The brakes might have gone out. We'll know after an inspection is made.”
The explanation should have been reassuring, even if painful, for it would seem to clear Tobias of any involvement. However, she could not let go of the remembered warnings her father gave her.
“What about the driver? Was he charged?” she muttered through her weeping.
“He left the scene of the accident and hasn't been found yet. But don't worry, we'll find him.”
The policemen prepared to leave. “Miss, is there anything we can do for you?” the tallest one asked while glancing toward the doorway where the housekeeper stood.
Rochelle was too dazed to answer, and was only vaguely aware they spoke to the housekeeper before they left.
Tears boiled up and spilled down Rochelle's face in sheets, until a kind of numbness took over. She sat staring off in space, remembering her mom and dad's faces, recalling events in their lives as she was growing up; memories that could never take their place.
They were gone, and she was alone.
The housekeeper sat with her. “Will you eat or drink something?” she asked, knowing Rochelle needed to keep up her energy for what lay ahead the next few days.
“No, I can't eat. I don't know what to do,” she cried. “What am I going to do?” She had not even considered calling Tobias thus far, put off by doubts resting in her mind like a bad seed.
“I need to call Uncle Bentley.” Blowing her nose, and then sniffing audibly, she dialed Bentley's number, held the phone to her ear as more tears strained through her lashes. “Uncle Bentley,” she said and broke into sobs.
“Rochelle, is that you?”
“Uncle Bentley, it's me. There has been an accident. Mama and Dad were in an accident.”
“Are they all right?” he asked, his voice anxious.
“They… they didn't make it.”
“Blessed saints! Rochelle, I will be there in a little while. Just be strong, honey. I'll be there in a few minutes.”
When she hung up the phone, it dawned upon her how much she needed someone to hold her, comfort her, and she thought of Tobias. Perhaps she should call him. On second thought, she decided it best to wait until her Godfather, Bentley Harrison, was not with her. Some inner voice told her to keep her relationship to Bentley a secret from Tobias. She would call him later. Right now, she needed her Uncle Bentley to help her handle things and get her through the days ahead.
It would be days later, before Rochelle learned about the absence of a registration or vehicle identification number on the tractor-trailer. The implication, of course, was an untraceable owner through vehicular records. It would prompt some real soul-searching. She would mentally explore several considerations, looking for plausible excuses to confirm Tobias's innocence rather than any involvement in her parents' deaths. Still, a niggling doubt kept touching her thoughts like random little electrical currents.
MUCH LATER THAT NIGHT, Tobias called Rochelle. She was supposed to have met him at seven o'clock that evening. When the phone rang and she looked at the clock, it was nine o'clock.
“Rochelle, are you all right?” It was the first thing that came from his mouth. His question hit Rochelle like a telltale clue. How could he possibly have learned already what had happened to her parents? His question seemed terribly suspicious. She wanted to ask him why she should not be all right just to see what he would say, but she didn't. Yet, the question was not Tobias's customary greeting when she was late for an outing with him. On previous occasions when she was late, he exuded anger, often becoming verbally abusive. There was none of that anger or abuse now.
She knew she had to get hold of herself. She was reading something, the worst perhaps, into everything Tobias said or did not say. With enough to deal with already, she decided she need not borrow trouble.
Tearfully, she told Tobias about her parents' deaths.
“I'm sorry to hear that,” he said in a monotone, not bothering to offer further condolences.
Rochelle noticed he wasn't surprised. Still, the police did say it was an accident, and every nerve inside her wanted it to be so. She loved Tobias, but how could she continue loving him if she suspected him of taking part in her parents' deaths?
TOBIAS STAYED AT ROCHELLE'S SIDE through the funeral.
He poured on compassion and understanding in huge doses. No one was more caring than he was, anticipating her needs and looking after her as though she were helpless. She felt nurtured beneath his supportive care, and the seeds of doubt that initially seized her soon faded. She grew completely dependent upon Tobias, who seemed pleased at her reliance upon him.
Bentley kept a low profile in the background throughout the funeral service. Joshua had made a point of informing him of the situation between Rochelle and Tobias Chandler, and for all practical purposes, even without evidence, he believed the man was probably responsible for Joshua and Angela's deaths. Since Bentley was the trustee of the Rathbone estate, he played the role of an old friend come to pay his respects. He wanted no introduction to, or any association with Tobias Chandler.
Five days after the funerals, using Rochelle's grief over her parents' deaths, Tobias talked her into and early marriage. They were married quietly in a civil ceremony that would require no waiting.
The marriage presented a dramatic turning point in Rochelle's life. With her parents gone, she told Bentley to liquidate her father's estate and invest the proceeds. Taking what personal items she wanted to keep, she moved into Tobias's mansion.