Her thoughts quickly changed to the beautiful cars as she entered the garages. Tony definitely liked his cars. Claire knew they had multiple new ones since her arrival. It was too bad she didn’t drive. Sighing, she thought, It has been almost two years.
Light filtered from under the apartment door as Claire knocked. Eric immediately answered. What she could see of his apartment looked like a nicely decorated living room with a dining area attached. “Yes, Mrs. Rawlings, may I help you?”
“Eric, Mr. Rawlings said there are some contracts at his Iowa City office that he must have by one o’clock. If you go immediately you will be back in time.” As Claire spoke, Eric grabbed his coat and hat. He unlocked a cabinet on the wall that contained keys to all the cars, took out the keys to the BMW 7 Series, and shut the cabinet.
Hurriedly Eric looked at his watch. “Ma’am, tell Mr. Rawlings I will be back before twelve thirty.” He got into the car.
“I will, drive safely.” Claire figured it could wait until she saw him at noon. As Eric pulled out of the garage Claire noticed the key cabinet. It did not shut properly, revealing the keys to multiple cars. Suddenly nervous, Claire contemplated the keys. She should shut the cabinet. Then she could go out to the backyard for air. Or she could take a set of keys and drive to as much air as she wanted. She wasn’t thinking air for a lifetime, only enough air to breathe.
The decision took only seconds yet it seemed like an eternity. She reached in and grabbed the first set she touched and hit the clicker. The lights on the Mercedes Benz flashed. In the midst of unpredictability she did her best to be stable and obedient. This sudden impulsiveness filled her with excitement and fear. Before she could talk herself out of it, she sat in the car, smelled the new car aroma, felt the leather steering wheel, and turned the key.
Her motivation was not to leave Tony forever. It was just that she felt smothered. The constant monitoring, censoring, and controlling added to her sense of psychological instability. And the different Tonys added another dimension to her suffocation. A brief reprieve or a momentary freedom would help her sanity. Besides, she told him a year ago she liked to drive. That is all she wanted to do, drive.
Do not bite at the bait of pleasure,
till you know there is no hook beneath it.
—Thomas Jefferson
Chapter 47
The dashboard in front of her looked more like something from a helicopter, dials and lights coming to life. She tried to remain calm. Driving hadn’t changed in twenty-two months. She just needed to put the car in gear and push the accelerator. Trembling at the prospect of the simplistic task, she almost ran into the garage door. However, she remembered to push the button, wait for the door to lift, and concentrate on breathing—slowly inhaling and exhaling. The door opened, and cautiously, she proceeded down the driveway. Claire prayed that if anyone saw the car, they would assume it was Eric. At the gates, she again pushed a button, the one she’d seen Eric push many times. At first, they seemed to hesitate, but then the gates swung wide.
She drove toward I-80 and inhaled. It was the sweetest air she’d smelled in almost two years. The clock on the dashboard read 11:16. In forty-four minutes, Tony would expect her in his office. She reasoned that perhaps the web conference would go long, and he wouldn’t notice her absence. Or maybe the phone calls would start, and he would be preoccupied. She knew the truth: Tony could do ten things at once. Come twelve and one second he’d be irritated, by twelve fifteen he’d be fuming. Feeling her heart rate intensify, she wondered what would happen when they reunited. What kind of punishment would he decide is appropriate for this behavior? Feeling her wet palms slide on the leather steering wheel, she chose to not linger on the possibilities. The Mercedes was now heading east on I-80. Her mind searched for possible destinations. Courtney—no, she is out of town. Emily—no, that is the first place Tony would check.
Utilizing her therapy skills she convinced herself this was a deserved break. She also instructed herself to relish the overpowering sensation of freedom, a feeling she hadn’t known in twenty-two months. Slowly, she felt her senses awaken: the countryside looked brighter, the leather seats emitted a stronger aroma, the wheels on the pavement created a soft hum, and the vibration responded to her movement of the wheel. It all invigorated her.
The brilliant dash indicated a full tank of gas. Silently she thanked Eric, momentarily worrying he would suffer because of her actions. She concentrated on the majestic world outside the windows, watching the traffic that consisted mostly of semitrucks. At first, this made Claire uncomfortable, but the Mercedes could weave and pass easily. Before moving to Tony’s she drove a Honda Accord. It was a good car, but the Mercedes felt like driving a cloud. Then the clock caught her eye, 12:11. She started to wonder what was happening at home, Would he be looking for her or sending someone else to look? All Claire could do now was drive and think. She loved him but the constant pressure was wearing on her. She just needed a break.
Taking the bypass around Davenport, she decided to go south on 74, away from NYC. At 3:30 she passed Peoria, Illinois. The emptiness in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t stopped since she left the estate. She desperately needed a restroom and some food. In the distance she spotted golden arches. French fries sounded wonderful. She hadn’t eaten fast food in almost two years. Claire turned the wheel and eased into the McDonald’s parking lot. Contemplating her order she realized she didn’t have money. Oh well, the restroom was free.
If she had planned this excursion, she would have grabbed a coat and her purse. More than likely Tony had her ID and credit card, but for appearances she usually had cash in her wallet. The overpowering aroma of fries lingered on her clothes as she got back into the car. Wondering about money, she saw her wedding rings. Of course, she wore hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of jewelry. She just needed to sell some. How does one sell jewelry? And where?
Back on the interstate Claire decided to take 155 South to 55. That wasn’t a good decision, 155 traveled slowly. When she finally reached 55 the signs said to Springfield and to St. Louis. It had been so long since she actually made decisions. She was lightheaded with independence or perhaps hunger.
Time passed. The sun started to fade and dusk loomed on the horizon. The loss of sunlight produced a similar effect on Claire’s mind. Her lightheadedness dissolved into reality. She knew without a doubt she needed to turn around. Tony would be upset and there would be a punishment, a consequence for this action. But she couldn’t keep going. First she needed cash. Second, what would the press say? Tony wouldn’t be happy if her leaving became public. Trepidation filled every ounce of her being as she watched for a place to turn around. There was another exit two miles ahead according to the sign.
Suddenly, questions swirled through her mind. Is there enough gas to get home? What will Tony do? Whatever punishment he chose, she decided, she deserved. She’d been impulsive and broken his rules. The small break was exhilarating, but it was time to face the consequences. There wasn’t another choice. If she had her cell phone she would call and tell him that she was on her way home. She would beg his forgiveness and plead temporary impulsive stupidity.
Lost in thought, she didn’t see the flashing lights until they were directly behind her. Once she noticed them, she assumed they would pass. She wasn’t speeding. But the police car didn’t pass. Did Tony send them after her? How did they find her? Pulling over she remembered the GPS. Had she really thought she could go unmonitored? She appeared casual as the policeman approached her window.
“Ma’am, please show me your registration, proof of insurance, and driver’s license.”
“Officer, I believe I left my purse at home by mistake. I can show you the registration and proof of insurance.” She handed him the documents from the glove compartment.
“Ma’am, your name please?” the officer asked while reading the registration and insurance card.
“My name . . . my name is Claire, Claire Rawlings.”
&nbs
p; Handing her back the registration and insurance card, he said, “Ma’am, I need you to get out of your car.”
Claire didn’t want to. She wanted to get home, she’d made her decision. She knew she needed to get back soon. “Officer, was I speeding?”
“Ma’am, get out of the car, now.” The policeman stared at her but mumbled into his shoulder.
“Officer, I’m in a hurry. I don’t have my purse, but I do have this watch. Perhaps your wife would like a very nice diamond watch.” She was desperate to return to Iowa and to Tony, but not in a police car.
Retrieving his gun from its holster, the police officer repeated his demand, “Mrs. Rawlings, I need you to get out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them.” Holding his gun in one hand he leaned toward her door. “Unlock your door. I will open it. Let me see your hands.” Claire couldn’t believe this was happening. She just wanted a moment of freedom and this policeman was treating her like a criminal. Had Tony accused her of stealing his car? That didn’t seem like Tony. He wouldn’t want the public scandal.
Claire unlocked the door and swung her legs out. Officer Friendly roughly grabbed her wrist and pulled, handcuffing her wrists behind her back. It made her shoulders and wrists ache. “What are you doing? Why are you doing this? I didn’t steal this car, it belongs to my husband. I have every right to drive it!”
“Ma’am, I have orders to take you into the station for questioning.” He walked her to his car, steering her with her hands.
“What about my husband’s car? He will be very upset if anything happens to his car.” Claire’s voice sounded as desperate as she felt.
“Another officer is on her way, she’ll drive your car to the station. It will be kept in impound until it is picked up or you are released.” He kept listening to his shoulder. “The other officer will be here in a few minutes.”
“We better not leave until she gets here. I’m serious about my husband. He can become very upset. You don’t want to be the person he gets hold of if anything happens to his car.” She didn’t want to be that person either. Sitting in the backseat of the patrol car, she heard the door slam and felt the sensation of a balloon that popped. Freedom was sweet and gone.
When they pulled up to Illinois State Police Station 56, she watched the Mercedes drive around the building. Worrying about the car was silly. But she didn’t want to give Tony more ammunition for his punishment. The officer directed her into the station.
Multiple uniformed and plain-clothed officers met them at the door. She was then directed to a dingy room. The smell of stale coffee and perspiration filled her senses. The only furniture was a steel gray table with two metal chairs. Claire sat in one of the cold chairs as the officer removed the cuffs. Rubbing her wrists, she looked at him and sounded convincingly resilient. “Sir, I am Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. I am sure you have heard of my husband or at least had contact with one of his companies. I recommend you release me right now and I won’t tell him about this incident.”
He didn’t respond and left her alone where she waited. Feeling the twisting within her stomach she knew what was coming. Tony was probably on his way. Flying would get him there in less than an hour. The next time the door opened she would see his dark eyes. The only sound within the small room was that familiar pounding within her head. As she waited she resolved herself to the consequences she would face at home. She broke the most important rule, many times, and now it was public. There was no way that this wouldn’t be on the news. She waited. The door opened. A female officer entered. “Mrs. Rawlings, would you like a drink, water or diet soda?”
“Thank you, I would like some water.” Then she waited some more. The next time the door opened she looked toward the table. Enough time had passed, this had to be Tony.
“Mrs. Rawlings, I am Sergeant Miles and this,” pointing to the man on his left, “is FBI Agent Ferguson.”
“Hello. I am confused, why is an FBI agent here?”
“We would like to ask you some questions about today.” Claire nodded. “Ma’am, you must speak. Our conversation is recorded and movements can’t be heard on an audiotape.” Claire hated recordings, audio or visual.
“Yes, please go ahead and ask me anything. I was just driving my husband’s car and forgot my driver’s license.”
“Ma’am, what time did you leave your residence outside of Iowa City?” Agent Ferguson asked as Sergeant Miles took notes.
Claire wondered if the audio recording wasn’t thorough enough. “I left at eleven fifteen AM.” That was easy, she’d looked at the dashboard clock.
“Did you see your husband before you left?”
“Do you mean did I ask my husband if I could leave? No.”
“No, ma’am, I meant what I said. Did you see your husband before you left your residence?”
“Yes, I saw him just before eleven. He was in his office about to start a web conference.”
“A web conference?” Sargent Miles asked.
“It is a conference that is live on the Internet, you know, on the ‘web.’” The officers continued to ask questions about times and people. Claire told them the house staff was all present, except for their driver, Eric. He left before her, going to Mr. Rawlings’s office to retrieve some paperwork for her husband. Had Claire told anyone she was leaving the house? She shook her head no, then remembering, answered, “No.” Why would she drive over five hours without her purse or telling anyone where she was going? She really didn’t have a good answer. She couldn’t tell them she didn’t have access to her own ID and she wasn’t allowed to go out by herself. If she did, she would be breaking his rules and when Tony arrived he would be livid. Suddenly, she realized he was probably watching from behind a window right now. She felt her stomach twist.
Her only choice was ignorance. “I don’t know. The sky was so pretty and Iowa can get so gray. I guess I just wanted to go somewhere warmer.”
“Mrs. Rawlings, you should know your husband will survive.” Agent Ferguson’s tone was flat.
Claire didn’t understand, survive? Like he would crumble because she left him? “I’m not sure what you mean. Why wouldn’t he survive?”
“Mrs. Rawlings, someone tried to kill your husband today. He was poisoned at approximately eleven fifteen this morning.” Agent Ferguson answered as Sergeant Miles observed Claire.
She shook her head, trying to make sense of his words. But they didn’t make sense. Tony was fine when she left, same as always. “You are mistaken. Mr. Rawlings had a web conference at eleven, where he was speaking with many people from his corporation.” Her speech quickened as did her heart rate.
“Yes, he was supposed to be. However, after the web conference began, his associates witnessed him take a drink from a mug and suddenly slump to his side. Many of the viewers attempted to reach him via cell phone, but he didn’t move. Luckily, one of the house staff heard the phones ringing and entered the office. They were able to fly him by helicopter to a hospital in Iowa City. His vitals are good, although he has yet to regain consciousness. The doctors believe he will make a full recovery. I am here representing the FBI because this is an attempted murder investigation which has crossed state lines.” Agent Ferguson spoke as if he was addressing a suspect.
“I need to get to him immediately.” Claire stood as she spoke. Sergeant Miles directed her back toward the chair. She was dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, are you accusing me of murdering my husband?”
“No, ma’am. Your husband wasn’t murdered. You are being questioned regarding an attempted murder investigation.”
She was stunned. “You are accusing me of hurting him? You should know no one hurts Anthony Rawlings. If anything he has hurt me, numerous times.”
“So are you claiming self-defense?”
Claire’s neck stiffened and her voice became defiant. “I’m not claiming anything. I did nothing that needs claiming.”
“Mrs. Rawlings, do you have any idea what was in the mug that your husband drank from?” She kn
ew exactly what was in that mug: coffee, made by her.
“Yes, officer. I would assume that the mug contained coffee. Just before I left, I took him a cup of coffee.” Her stomach was now a tangle of knots.
“You and your husband don’t have household servants that usually prepare the food and drinks?”
“We do. But he asked me to get him coffee.” Claire definitely didn’t like how this was going. “I believe I need an attorney.”
“Ma’am, you haven’t yet been charged. However, asking for representation is your right. Be aware that your husband’s legal staff has sent word that representing you would be a conflict of interest. You will need to secure your own counsel.”
“I would like to call John Vandersol, my brother-in-law.” As the words left her mouth she remembered, “No, wait. I can’t.”
Another officer entered the room and began to talk with Sergeant Miles. After the two whispered, Miles spoke. “Mrs. Claire Rawlings, my commanding officer has informed me that the prosecuting attorney of Iowa City believes there is enough circumstantial evidence to hold you in this facility overnight and transport you back to Iowa City in the morning. The chief prosecutor of Iowa believes he will have an official warrant for your arrest signed by the judge by the time you arrive.”
Consequences Page 47
