Inferno Anthology (264 page)

The July sun brightly shone on the pavement ahead of Brent. Momentarily, he was distracted by the illusion of shimmering liquid in the distance. He didn’t want to face Claire, to see her in the correctional institution. He knew she didn’t belong there, and he hadn’t helped her. She probably, justifiably, felt abandoned. She was. Brent’s mind went back to January, to that terrible phone call telling him and Courtney that someone tried to kill Tony. They were planning to return from Fiji in three days, of course they flew home immediately.

When they found Tony, still hospitalized, he looked and sounded healthy. His disposition wasn’t, especially when he informed them that all the evidence pointed to Claire. Devastated, Courtney argued with Tony. After she left the room, Tony informed Brent that they were not allowed to visit or help Claire after what she had done.

That didn’t go well with Courtney. She went anyway. Somehow Tony found out, and Brent had hell to pay.

Brent wasn’t directly involved in the criminal suit. Actually, the State Of Iowa accused Claire Rawlings of attempted murder, not Tony. But Brent was involved in an expedited divorce. Marcus Evergreen, chief prosecutor for Johnson County, had information Brent needed for his petition. Mid-February, Marcus’ secretary utilized a courier to deliver a flash drive to Brent. It contained the documents he needed. He planned to leave it at the office, but at the last minute decided to take it home, to look it over.

Courtney was out to dinner with friends when Brent pulled up the drive on his home computer. There was only one folder: “Rawlings, Claire.” He opened it. It contained multiple files. The one he needed was “Rawlings vs. Rawlings.” It should have been the only one on the drive. It wasn’t. The one entitled “State of Iowa vs. Rawlings: Preliminary Brief-Task” sat right in front of him. It was unethical and probably illegal, but he opened it. Young attorneys get wordy. Paul Task’s preliminary brief was 147 pages! Brent grimaced and shook his head at the inexperience of Claire’s attorney. He started to close the file when he focused on the words—suddenly transfixed.

Two hours, and three Blue Label’s straight-up later, the entire brief was read. The descriptions and accounts of Claire’s life while with Tony were nauseating. It was stated more than once that this was only a sample of the treatment she endured. There was more. How could this be going on and they not know? Brent panicked, thinking he shouldn’t have read it and should delete it.

Nevertheless, instead of deleting, Brent made an electronic copy on a personal flash drive and printed a copy. Then he deleted it from the original drive. If questioned, he would deny it had ever been present. He wanted to punch Tony, but Brent knew he could never let Tony know he’d read the brief.

Planning to keep it to himself, he decided to hide the paper copy in his safe and put the pin drive in a special box in the drawer of his desk. Before he had the chance to follow through on those plans, Courtney came home. She knew immediately something was amiss and assumed Tony was responsible. Maybe it was the whiskey combined with helplessness for Claire, but Brent handed Courtney the paper copy. In hindsight, it was a mistake which almost cost him his twenty-eight-year marriage. When she finished reading, he asked two simple questions. “Do you believe it? Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

Courtney erupted! She believed every word and wanted Tony’s head on a platter. She also wanted Brent to quit his job, move far away from Iowa City, and most importantly: help Claire.

Downtrodden, Brent explained none of that was possible. “We can’t.”

“Why not? She told me at the jail she didn’t do it! I knew something was wrong. I kept asking. Why didn’t I push more? God! It said he hurt her in California. We were with them! Brent, think about Claire—her age. What if those things you read happened to our daughter?”

“I would kill the bastard! But, they didn’t, and not only is he my boss, now he’s Caleb’s boss. Don’t you think, in light of this new information, it’s coincidental that he recently offered Caleb such a great job? Now, not only does he own us, but also our son and future daughter-in-law.”

“This is America. Just quit!”

“Courtney, I can’t. You don’t walk away from Tony. Ask John Vandersol.” Brent hadn’t meant to divulge that information; it just slipped. Courtney sat dazed. She poured herself another glass of Cabernet and reread the brief. The next day, while Brent was at work, Courtney left. He came home to a note: “If anyone asks, I’m taking care of my sick mother. Do not attempt to call or communicate. I will not be available.”

Brent tried numerous times. Over a week later she returned. Brent remembered worrying what she would say. He fully expected: You’re weak and I’m done. I want a divorce.

Instead, Courtney apologized. “I wasn’t there for Claire and apparently can’t be there for her now. I can be here for you. You shouldn’t have to face that bastard every day without support. I love you and will support you, but know this: I want out of here and away from him. From this point forward we slowly, inconspicuously move our assets away from Rawlings stock and work to liberate our family. That will start with Caleb before he gets in too deep. Do you agree?”

Brent did. He wanted out, too. The first time Courtney needed to see Tony face to face, Brent worried. She did fine. Courtney said if he could muster a false smile, and Claire could do it, she could too. They were already laying the ground work for Caleb’s move to another place of employment.

As Brent got out of the car and walked into the institution, he worried about Claire. What would she look like? Had she been able to survive? How? He hated Tony and damned him with each echoing step down the long, tiled halls.

A guard took him to a small dingy room, illuminated with a florescent glow, containing a steel table and four chairs. Brent set his briefcase on the table and waited. Looking around, he noticed the conspicuous camera in the corner. It reminded him of the videotaping mentioned in the preliminary brief and of his conversation with Tony:

“You want me to go tell Ms. Nichols (Tony didn’t like to hear her first name) you’re considering a civil lawsuit against her? For what?”

“Slander and deformation of character.”

“Why, what did she say?”

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know. Just do your job.” Tony’s voice was flat and authoritative.

In actuality Brent was fishing. Would Tony share the information Brent already knew? He also wondered if Tony knew that he knew—apparently not. “Tony, there’re many members of the legal team who weren’t as involved with Ms. Nichols as I. Perhaps one of them could inform her of the impending suit?”

“No, it’ll be you.” His tone was firm and his eyes intense. “Have you ever noticed the nice cameras in those visitor rooms? Those tapes are available for a price. I assume you’ll not relay information to her that isn’t related to the suit. As a reminder, this will not be a friendly visit.”

Brent said he understood.

CLAIRE WAS READING
in her cell, on that July afternoon, when her buzzer sounded. The sound meant she needed to go to her door. She’d be receiving something, usually a package. This time a guard informed her she had a visitor. Her presence was immediately required in the visitor area.

Claire had only received two visitors since her arrest. The first was in Iowa City, before she gave her plea and was transferred to the correctional institution. That day, following a guard, she found her best friend. Courtney was in Fiji during Claire’s arrest and came to the jail as soon as they returned to Iowa.

Visibly distraught as Claire was escorted by a guard, Courtney apologized to Claire, for not being a better friend. If she had pursued her concerns more perhaps Claire wouldn’t have felt the need to resort to such drastic measures in order to get away from Tony. Claire assured her: “I did not try to kill Tony. Please don’t believe everything you hear or see. Remember Tony’s regard for appearances. Many times, things were not as they seemed.”

Courtney said she understood and would try to help her, but—Brent, his job…

Claire hadn’t heard from her since. Honestly, she understood.

The only other visitor since her incarceration was Emily. Claire knew the trip to Mitchellville, Iowa was difficult for her. When Emily had time to travel, she wanted to visit John in New York.

Now, Claire curiously followed the guard down the halls and through multiple gates: each one locking, unlocking, and making the electronic
beep
sound. Wearing her prison clothes, she entered a room to find Brent Simmons. It had been so long, she momentarily thought she was seeing a friend. Brent’s expression instantaneously told her otherwise. After Claire sat where the guard indicated, he stepped from the room, leaving Brent and Claire alone.

She knew this was business, but he was her friend. She couldn’t stop herself. “Brent, how are you? How’s Courtney? When is Caleb’s wedding?”

Stone faced and sober, Brent replied, “Ms. Nichols, I’ve been instructed to inform you of an impending civil suit in which you’ll be named the defendant.”

Creating an equally professional persona, Claire responded, “Okay, thank you for informing me. May I ask the grounds for this suit?”

“MY CLIENT HAS
reason to believe you’ve spoken slander against him. This defamation of his character is considered a ploy to damage his personal and professional reputation.” Brent said what was needed, with the demeanor necessary, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Claire looked different from what he expected. It wasn’t just her hair and the clothes, she had confidence and strength. These qualities had never been evident before. He recalled seeing her for the first time on Tony’s plane to New York. She looked nervous and insecure, yet tried to appear otherwise. Now after almost six months, three in a federal penitentiary, Claire seemed independent and strong. He knew it wasn’t where she’d been, but where she hadn’t. She hadn’t been under the gaze of the black eyes. Just like actual black holes, they sucked strength, confidence, and assurance out of anyone close enough to be pulled into their orbit.

Claire laughed and replied, “Thank you, Mr. Simmons. I’m very concerned that your client will want my allegations made public, as would happen in such a suit.”

“Ms. Nichols, damage to my client’s professional reputation could result in a loss of income. A civil suit is meant to subsidize any loss of income.”

Smiling, she said, “And of course, I have the necessary capital to subsidize your client’s income.”

“It’s my responsibility to inform you such a suit is under consideration, and if filed, you could be found liable.” Brent stood to leave.

“Brent, can you please talk with me for a minute?” He continued to gather his belongings.

“Mr. Simmons?” They made eye contact. “Your wife told me one time that life was not a daily test. She said perfection was not always necessary. I want you to know that I know. I know better than anyone else, today you passed a test.” Brent felt a minuscule amount of moisture leak from his eyes as he ever so slightly nodded his head in agreement. Looking down he started toward the door, but Claire’s confident tone stopped his movement. “Mr. Simmons, two more things…” He turned back toward her. “…should the subject arise, I welcome the suit. It’ll give me the opportunity to make my allegations again, perhaps to a larger forum.” He nodded with a knowing smile. She was right; Tony would never risk that exposure. “And the other thing, I truly love and miss your wife. If she cares, please tell her that I really am fine—more fine than I used to be.”

“Thank you, Ms. Nichols. You have been notified.”

“Yes, Mr. Simmons. I have. Thank you.”

He knocked. The guard opened the door; he left.