August 1993 – Southampton, The Clarke Beach House
The distressing howls rang in Victoria's ears long after the F.B.I. agent hauled Amanda from the beach house. If only David had confided the truth of Kara before Conrad had cruelly revealed it...
Like her life depended on it, she had dashed to the beach house and fought Conrad's attempt to restrain her, as the mass of F.B.I. agents stampeded into David's home and hauled him to the floor. The downing of flight 197 had been declared a national tragedy just hours after its fatal descent. In the immediate aftermath of the terrorist attack, she had allied herself with Conrad and secured the paper trail. Slowly, but surely, it led authorities to the conclusion that the blood of 246 innocent civilians had been on David's hands – a brutal massacre of human life for sheer financial profit. Whatever rationalisation she formed in her brain, she would never forgive herself for the ruthless act of self-preservation she had committed. The life of her son had been in jeopardy, preyed upon by the very people responsible for the predicament, but the knowledge that Daniel would sleep safe and sound didn't make the moment any more bearable. "David?" In a whim, the swarm of F.B.I. agents bundled David from the beach house and the confusion etched into his features haunted Victoria, almost as much as the helplessness that had befallen Amanda, ripped from her home in the same manner.
Anchoring her back into reality, Conrad's voice drowned out the echo of David's relentless protest. "Victoria?" Those blue eyes widened with concern, as Victoria became drenched with sweat, her eyes distantly vacant. His hand grasped at her arm, in a powerful attempt to prevent her fall.
Her heart pounded within her chest, as if it were bound to burst out of it. "I –" The pain intensified with each rapid breath Victoria struggled to regulate and the words escaped her. "I can't –" Any other victim would assume it to be a heart attack, as her chest tightened to the point that her lungs threatened collapse, but Victoria knew the sensation all too well. "I –." She hadn't suffered a panic attack in years, certainly not since she had been married to Conrad, but it was the culmination after weeks of anxiety. "Conrad –"
"It's alright," he reassuringly stated, all the while knowing, for a fact, it was anything but.
"Is she going to be alright, doctor?" Behind the closed bedroom door, Conrad's hushed murmurs could be heard and Victoria wrapped the fern green cardigan further around her waist.
"Physically, she's just fine." The private physician confirmed, his tone strictly professional. "Emotionally, though... I'm sure it was rather traumatic to be witness to Mr Clarke's arrest." In spite of the late hour, the news of David's arrest for the downing of flight 197 had already been shared worldwide via various media outlets. "She refused the sedative I offered her so she may be restless." Automatically, Victoria planted her hand on her abdomen. The nausea remained but there was more than one cause for that, as she had discovered earlier that morning. "I understand that the authorities are keen for both Mrs Grayson and yourself to provide a statement but I would strongly advise against it, at least for tonight, and I'll be certain to make my recommendation known to whoever's heading up this investigation."
Relieved, for he pondered how Victoria would possibly provide the accurate statement they had rehearsed in her state of mind, Conrad shook the man's hand. "Thank you, doctor." As he gestured for the doctor to exit, Conrad signaled to Frank, who stood nearby, his hands pinned behind his back. After the jumbo-jet had failed to safely reach its destination of Newark Liberty Airport from London Heathrow, Conrad had contacted the former F.B.I. agent and elicited him to help construct the ultimate cover-up.
Once Conrad and the doctor retreated downstairs, Frank gently knocked on the bedroom and entered the room. Without a word, Frank approached the bar and poured a generous glassful, which Victoria refused with the shake of her head. Instead, he devoured the drink himself. "Are you alright?"
She shrugged her shoulders, as if already knew the answer to his question. In the few weeks Frank had embedded himself into Grayson Manor, he had already become acquainted with more of Victoria's skeletons than even Conrad knew existed. Under pressure from Americon Initiative, Conrad had been blind to yet another ordeal Victoria had been forced to endure when she received cautious communication from someone who believed himself to be her first-born son. The timing couldn't have been worse and, as Victoria wrestled to contain the situation, Frank had the gumption to intervene before she formally responded. At his suggestion, she rebuffed any advances Patrick made to assume himself into her family and, instead, provided ample financial compensation for the defeat. Nevertheless, in spite of the loyalty Frank had shown both herself and Conrad, she maintained a level of discomfort in his presence. "Where's Conrad?"
"He's with the detectives. It's important that he shows an interest in how the investigation progresses," Frank automatically replied.
The nature of his attitude only sought to worsen the sickening pit in Victoria's stomach. It was business as usual. The crime they had committed would have little effect on how Frank slept at night. "How much longer are they going to be there?" Sat on the edge of the bed, Victoria could see the spotlights flashing in every which direction, as the F.B.I. ravaged the once peaceful beach house for further evidence to secure conviction.
"They'll probably be there for the remainder of the night," he predicted. "You'll need to provide your statement in the morning. You should get some rest." As she wandered to the cupola, disobeying his advice to observe the scene below, Frank heavily exhaled and retreated away from the master bedroom. The fragile emotional state she displayed had become a major concern for Frank. Though he made it a point to remain unattached from those who hired him, he worried for her wellbeing, and remained terrified that it would be the one deficit in their plot. If it weren't for the not-so-small fortune the Wall Street tycoon had offered him, he certainly would have walked away by now, if only to save his own skin.
Discretely, Victoria escaped from Conrad's arms and ensured her husband remained undisturbed, before she wandered out onto the cupola. The sky had become streaked with honey and amber shades of dawn, a cool chill in the air as the night reluctantly slipped away, and Victoria viewed the beach house below. The presence of the authorities remained by the red-tape surrounding David's home but, for all intents and purposes, it had never felt emptier and neither had Victoria. Her eyes lowered to her abdomen; it wasn't the way any expectant mother was supposed to feel. Her emotions were more conflicted than they were for the nine months she had carried Patrick.
"Victoria?" Her husband beckoned her, reluctantly tearing back the sheets from his body and greeting the morning they both dreaded. She had been restless, they both had. Insomnia lingered like an unforgettable foe but his soul had been soothed somewhat, by having her back in his arms again. It had been the first night they had spent together as husband and wife – physically, and emotionally – in three months and Conrad hoped it would be the start of a resolution for the disaster their marriage threatened to become.
His arms curled around her waist and Victoria sharply inhaled, petrified he would somehow become conscious of her condition and her sacrifice would have been an unnecessary one. In spite of the tenderness shown, Victoria had gritted her teeth and forced herself not to shudder at his touch. What they had done left her ridden with guilt but Conrad appeared completely unaffected by the 'necessary' sacrifice of both David and Amanda, and for that, she despised him, almost as much as she despised herself. "We have to give our statements to the authorities." She blurted out, an excuse for conversation and to distance herself from him. "I'm going to take a shower."
She ripped her hand from his and Conrad wistfully watched her shut him out. The day would be difficult, perhaps the most difficult they had ever endured but Conrad would rather gamble an eternity of remorse than the loss of his only child. "Victoria?" He followed her and knocked on the locked door. On the other side of it, Victoria leaned her back against it, shutting her eyes tight, as they watered. "I love you."
The tears streamed relentlessly down her cheeks; he had said those three words so many times throughout their marriage but Victoria had almost refused to believe it. He had said them to her when she relented and agreed to help him mastermind the framing of David, to alleviate the unspoken threat against their son. He had said them to her breathlessly, his body on top of hers, as she sacrificed herself to protect her unborn child that he would soon believe to be his own. After seven years of marriage, Victoria finally believed it.