Behind His Eyes - Consequences

by Aleatha Romig

  “Once our questioning is complete, we’ll be glad to share with you. First, we want to know what you remember.”

  “I remember being with my wife the night before the morning in question. I remember a lot about that night and none of that would hint toward hostility. I’d share more, but out of respect for my wife, I won’t. I remember talking with her on multiple occasions during the morning and making plans for later in the day. I remember booking a surprise vacation for the two of us. We’re supposed to be in the Grand Caymans right now. I remember asking her for a cup of coffee and her bringing it. Tell me now, why you believe the woman I share my name and my bed with is being suspected of this crime.”

  Agent Hart nodded toward the young officer who’d been asking questions and taking notes. The younger man gathered his things and left the room. Once alone, Agent Hart swung the officer’s chair around and straddled the seat. Leaning forward on the chair’s back, he spoke quietly. “Mr. Rawlings, your wife was found yesterday driving near St. Louis.”

  He appeared genuinely shocked. Eric hadn’t told him her destination. “St. Louis? Why?”

  “Yes, Mr. Rawlings, why? Why would your wife leave your home in such a rush as to not take a coat? It is, after all, January in Iowa. Why would she leave without a purse, without her ID, and without any cash or credit cards?”

  Tony couldn’t respond if he’d wanted to. St. Louis! She’d really left him. She’d taken the car and driven as far as she could. Finally, he asked, “How did you find her?”

  “Her car has built-in GPS. Your driver was kind enough to share the information, and we were able to track the vehicle.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She hasn’t said much. She’s denied harming you, vehemently.”

  Tony closed his eyes. “Where is she? I want to talk to her.”

  “She’s on her way back to Iowa.” Agent Hart looked at his watch. “She may be back. The Iowa City prosecutor has secured a warrant for her arrest, and she’s being arraigned this afternoon.”

  Shaking his head, Tony worked to contain the swirl of emotion: disappointment, betrayal, anger, hurt. It was a potent mixture. “I believe I need to speak with my legal team.”

  “Yes, Mr. Rawlings, I believe you do.” Agent Hart stood. “I’ll ask your driver to come back, if you’d like?”

  “Agent?” Tony’s voice hardened. “I don’t want to believe any of this.”

  “I understand.”

  “I doubt you do. No matter what, find out who did this, and I want that person to pay. There has to be consequences for this. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir, that I can assure you, I understand.”

  Once Agent Hart was gone and Eric was back, Tony began making calls. His first was to Tom. Tom and Brent headed up Tony’s and Rawlings Corporation’s legal team. Tony told Tom that under no circumstance would any of his legal team be used to defend Mrs. Rawlings.

  Tony said, “If she did this to me, I don’t intend to throw her a lifeline—she sure as hell didn’t throw one to me!”

  When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him.

  —Euripides

  With each day that passed and Tony wasted in the hospital, his disappointment grew and festered. Every hour of work lost, every time someone entered his private room and performed some duty that was not to his liking, every time his personal space was invaded or the police came with more questions—every minute of each day was a reminder of how Claire had failed. Her failure didn’t only affect her—no, Tony suffered as well.

  He suffered physical pain as the toxins exited his body. Every time Tony took a deep breath or moved, he suffered piercing pain from the repercussions of the CPR. Two of his ribs were broken along with excessive damage to the cartilage in his chest. Then, there was the psychological suffering as he endured the humiliation of test after examination after test. Never had he been so exposed to so many people. Even his money couldn’t save him from the prying eyes and hands of doctor after doctor.

  After he regained his strength, Tony convinced the Iowa City Police Department and the FBI that he was safe with the help of his own security team. He explained that it was senseless for the people of Iowa to be burdened with the financial responsibility of his protection. The powers that be agreed, and Tony was at least free of the twenty-four-seven prying eyes of law enforcement.

  The Simmonses cut their vacation short and hurried to Tony’s bedside. Although he was happy to see them, they entered his hospital room right after Tony had finished another round of examinations and blood draws. His demeanor was not pleasant.

  Their expressions were a mix of sadness and exhaustion. The trip from Fiji to Iowa had been long. Courtney was the first to speak as she rushed to Tony and swallowed him in a hug. He flinched at the discomfort. With tears in her eyes she said, “Oh, Tony, thank God! We’ve been so worried about you.”

  Brent gently slapped Tony’s shoulder. “Hey, we rushed home because you’re supposed to be at death’s door. You look good to me.”

  “You missed the good part,” Tony replied. “Apparently, I was more than at death’s door—I passed the threshold. The doctors said they had to restart my heart.”

  Tears flowed from Courtney’s eyes as she hugged him again. “Oh! I can’t believe this. What happened? With all the traveling, we’ve only heard small snippets.”

  Brent cleared his throat. “We heard that Claire’s been arrested. Man, tell us that isn’t true.”

  Tony sat straighter and watched his best friends. “It is.”

  “No!” Courtney stood. “Claire wouldn’t do this! There has to be some mistake.”

  “Do I look like there’s a mistake?”

  Using the voice Tony had heard in courtrooms and conference negotiations, Brent said, “Courtney, let’s hear what happened before jumping to any conclusions.”

  “She poisoned me!” Tony lowered his volume. “In front of a live web conference, I took a drink of coffee that Claire brought to me and I died! My damn heart stopped. Last I heard that’s the definition of death. The police have reviewed all of my in-house surveillance and everything points to her. Marcus Evergreen has been here a couple of times. They have Claire locked up.” When neither of his friends commented, Tony added, “She’s being held on charges of attempted murder. Apparently, even though my heart stopped, the fact it restarted gets her out of a murder rap.”

  Brent wrapped Courtney in his arms as she hugged her midsection and her shoulders shuddered. Finally, she broke free and asked, “Why? Why would she do this? What happened? What did you do?”

  Tony stared as red seeped into his peripheral vision. First, there were the damn doctors who poked and prodded, and now Courtney had the audacity to accuse him! It was all he could do to keep his lips pressed together in a tight line. When he looked away from Courtney, his eyes met Brent’s. By his friend’s expression, Tony believed that Brent knew what he was thinking. Tony didn’t intend to say too much in front of Courtney, but he sure as hell would tell Brent.

  Taking a deep breath, Tony winced and said, “I’ve spoken with Tom. No Rawlings money will be used for her defense. That means personal or corporate. No members of the Rawlings legal team will assist her, and that includes you,” he looked to Brent, “and your wife.”

  Courtney shook her head and turned away.

  Tony went on. “I personally hope that a trial can be avoided. I hardly want the world to know that I married a psycho who wanted me dead … nevertheless, the evidence is straightforward. I believe we should start thinking about a divorce.”

  “Tony, please,” Courtney pleaded. “Please think about this. Please don’t make decisions that you’ll regret.”

  “Brent, I’d like to speak with you privately.” Tony had never treated Courtney with anything other than respect. He didn’t want to start now. To facilitate that—to avoid a possible confrontation, Tony needed her to leave. “Courtney, I’ve had nothing to do for the last few days
but lie in this bed and think. I’ve thought this out multiple different ways. You two have been traveling and are obviously exhausted. I promise this was not a rushed decision. Now, I’d like to speak to Brent for a moment.”

  Brent nodded to Courtney as she picked up her coat and purse and headed toward the door. Just before she reached the handle, she said, “Tony, I’m really glad you’re all right. You know how much we care about you, but you were the one who brought Claire into our lives. I don’t abandon friends. Don’t ask me to do that.”

  “I’m not. I’m asking you to support me.”

  Her shoulders lifted and dropped before she looked down and left the room.

  Trying to keep his voice in check, Tony glared at Brent and waited for the door to shut. Once they were alone, he said, “Control your wife! That’s not a recommendation nor a suggestion—I’m fuck’n serious. Claire did this to me. Neither you nor Courtney will visit or help her in any way!”

  Brent nodded. “I hear you. Let me talk with Cort.”

  “Talk to her, do whatever you need to do, but I’m not backing down on this!”

  Brent feigned a smile. “I guess we don’t need to worry about you anymore. You’re obviously feeling better.”

  Tony nodded. “Check in with Tom and get up-to-date. Evergreen seems to have everything under control, but I don’t want a trial. I’m willing to do anything to avoid that. You know what I think about the damn press—they’re already having a field day. I don’t want to give them any more ammunition. I have no idea what my wife was thinking or why she did this. She’d been acting strangely since that old friend of hers died. Then, after she heard about John, she must have snapped.”

  “John?” Brent swallowed hard. “Did the shit hit the fan?”

  “Yeah, a few days ago. His firm pressed charges.”

  Brent closed his eyes and shook his head. “Damn, I didn’t know it would happen so soon.”

  “Focus! This isn’t about him or even her. I’m getting out of here soon. Find out exactly what Evergreen’s planning. He just trips over himself whenever I talk to him, with all his damn yes sirs and no sirs.”

  “I’ll find out what’s happening. Would you drop the charges to avoid a trial?”

  “That’s just it. I never pressed charges—the state of Iowa did. I fuck’n lost control of this, and I want you to get it back for me—yesterday.”

  Brent nodded and looked at his watch. “I’ll see what I can do. Do you have your cell?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll call you later tonight. When are they letting you out?”

  “If I had my way it would’ve been yesterday. My doctor’s this little five-foot firecracker who refuses to release me until some damn numbers drop in my blood.”

  Brent smiled. “So the administrators don’t give a damn about your donations?”

  “They do, and they’re making sure I get the best. Apparently, that’s her and she’s not interested in my donations or cash on the side—I’ve tried. Maybe I should pay off the damn lab techs. I’ll pay for the fuck’n numbers to go down.”

  “Jesus, Tony! Listen to the damn doctor. I’d bet they want you out of here as much as you want to be out.”

  Tony couldn’t help but smile. “You’re probably right, but I might look into the lab tech angle.”

  Brent walked toward the door. “I’m leaving. I’ll call you after I talk with Evergreen.”

  “Brent.” Tony’s tone lowered. “Do what I said. Control your wife. Don’t disappoint me.”

  Brent nodded as he stepped through the door. Tony saw members of his security staff standing just beyond the open frame. Closing his eyes, he remembered Catherine’s words: Claire and Mrs. Simmons were getting close? Memories of Courtney’s question increased his discomfort. Close—how close? Had Claire said anything to Courtney that would cause her to suspect him of pushing Claire to the extreme of attempted murder? Shit—he needed to feel that out. Could it be that Claire had disappointed him without him even realizing it? He opened his eyes. The monitor near his bed was beeping faster and faster as new red flooded the empty room.

  The damn numbers finally confirmed Tony’s health. That didn’t mean the pain was gone. His ribs hurt every time he breathed, and the cardiologist warned that Tony could have long-term effects. His heart would require further monitoring, but the signs for his long-range recovery were positive.

  Riding up the drive of his estate, Tony pushed his emotions away. With Claire gone, his house seemed so empty. He’d spoken with Catherine on multiple occasions and, thankfully, she’d never boasted about Claire’s failure. As a matter of fact, she was genuinely saddened by the outcome and worried about Tony’s well-being. Whenever Tony mentioned Claire, Catherine would steer the subject to him and his recovery. He reassured her that he would get well, and he never doubted that he would.

  Focusing on his responsibilities at Rawlings, which Tim had been assuming for too long, Tony entered his front door determined to ignore the obvious emptiness. His staff fell over themselves as they fulfilled his every need. It wasn’t until he’d been home for a few hours that he wandered into the sitting room. He didn’t mean to look above the fireplace—but he did. Tony wasn’t looking for the green eyes; however, when he saw the large mirror that had hung there for years, fury overtook his being.

  “Where the hell is the wedding portrait?”

  There was no one near; the house was as empty as it felt. When he screamed his question again, Cindy came running. “Mr. Rawlings, are you all right? Can I help you?”

  “No! I’m not all right! Where is Mrs. Rawlings’ portrait?” He’d paid a fortune to have that portrait commissioned. He’d purposely had it painted by Sophia Rossi. No, not Rossi—Burke, and now it was gone!

  “Sir, Catherine had it removed. She believed that you wouldn’t—”

  “I don’t care what she believed! Where is it?”

  “Sir, I-I don’t know?”

  “Where is Catherine?”

  Suddenly, Catherine appeared, hurrying in from the hall. “Cindy, I’ll help Mr. Rawlings. Thank you.”

  Cindy looked to Tony and waited. When he nodded, she turned away.

  Catherine’s voice tried to reassure. “Mr. Rawlings, you are supposed to rest.”

  He waited until Cindy left the room. “Where the fuck is the picture?”

  “I thought that you—”

  He glared. “I didn’t ask you what you thought. I don’t care what you think! Tell me where the fuck the painting is!”

  Catherine’s shoulders squared. “It’s in her suite.”

  Tony closed his eyes and exhaled. Reestablishing his glare, he spoke slowly. “Don’t you fuck’n touch any of her things. Don’t make any damn assumptions about what I want and what I don’t want. This isn’t negotiable. Her things belong to me. Only I will decide what happens to them. I don’t want to have this conversation again—ever. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” He heard the contempt in Catherine’s voice, and at that moment Tony didn’t give a damn.

  “Have the portrait moved to my suite and hung over my fireplace. It’ll stay there until I decide. Clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” He turned on his heel and stepped deliberately from the sitting room. Fighting the urge to go up to Claire’s suite, Tony went to his office and contemplated his most recent revelation. If the state of Iowa wouldn’t allow him to decide Claire’s fate, then his most recent idea could. He called Brent.

  Brent picked up on the third ring. “Yes, Tony?”

  “What if she’s insane?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I told you that she’d been acting more and more detached since Johnson died. What if she lost it?”

  Brent waited and then he said, “Evergreen said she’s been very quiet, not saying much of anything.”

  Tony smiled. This could work! “If she pleads insanity, what could happen? Can we avoid the trial?”

  “Let me look into it,” Brent replied. “Do you want
the state to sentence her to an institution?”

  “No!” Tony’s answer came too fast. “I want to pay for it. There’s no sense having the people of Iowa pay her expenses.”

  “And when … if … she gets better?” Brent asked.

  “We’ll cross that bridge, but if I’m paying, it should be my decision.” Everything about her had been his decision, even before she knew his name. He wasn’t losing that control now.

  “Tony, I’ll investigate and get back to you. Evergreen said there’s a preexamination scheduled for the day after tomorrow.”

  “I should be there.”

  “That isn’t the customary practice.”

  “I don’t give a shit what’s customary. You investigate the insanity plea and I’ll call Evergreen.”

  Tony didn’t wait for Brent’s answer before he hit: DISCONNECT.

  Tony had Judge Reynolds’ written decision in the breast pocket of his jacket. He didn’t care if Evergreen didn’t want him at this preexamination. Tony wanted Claire to plead insanity, and he needed to tell her. Honestly, he didn’t expect any resistance from her or her counsel. Evergreen had said she received court-appointed attorneys, and apparently her draw hadn’t been the best. Paul Task was fresh out of law school, had recently passed the bar, and was still wet behind the ears. His co-counsel was Jane Allyson. She’d spent a few years in the defender’s office before and during law school. Evergreen said she was tenacious, but unestablished and unknown.

  As Tony entered the hallway of conference rooms in the courthouse complex attached to the Iowa City jail, he was met by multiple law-enforcement officers. No one questioned his presence or commented about his wife’s behavior. Everyone greeted him as if he were a long-lost friend. “Hello, Mr. Rawlings.” “It’s nice to see you, Mr. Rawlings.” “Can I help you, Mr. Rawlings?”

  It didn’t take him long to find the conference room occupied by Evergreen and his team, as well as Claire and her legal team. There was a small window in the door. As soon as he looked in, he saw her. She looked so small and frail sitting at the cluttered table flanked by her incompetent counsel. Taking a deep breath, and remembering the pain of his broken ribs, he opened the door. The room, which had been full of murmuring, went silent. It was Marcus who finally stood and approached. “Mr. Rawlings, I thought we discussed this, and you weren’t to attend this conference.”