The small window in the door of Claire’s cell allowed a minimal amount of florescent light to penetrate, making the walls drab and colorless. Turning on her desk lamp filled the room with a feeling of warmth. Her cell at the Iowa Correctional Institution for Women was small and would be her home for at least another four years. She was sentenced to seven, but eligible for parole in four. Claire was good at following rules.
She had a twin-sized bed, dresser, an open hanging area, a few shelves, and a desk with a chair. It wasn’t much but she felt content. She’d experienced more and that hadn’t worked well for her. Existing in a comforting sameness day to day helped Claire survive. There were no surprises, everything was predictable. Day after day, the same routine: wake, dress, and breakfast, then back to her cell, alone, until lunch. Lunch and then a one-hour block of free time, either in a large gymnasium, the prison library, or an outside court. Claire loved the outside. She went there whenever the weather permitted. Then back to her cell until dinner. After dinner there was optional common time, if you earned that privilege, for another hour. Claire earned it, but opted for her cell. Companionship required trust in the other person. Claire’s trust didn’t extend beyond herself any longer. She stayed in her cell until her buzzer rang. The buzzer indicated that it was time to shower; following the shower, back to her cell, lights out at 11:00. Simple and predicable, Claire had suffered enough unpredictability.
She spent her free time reading. Emily tried to send her books as often as possible. Having a sister and husband in jail was hard on Emily. She was asked to leave her teaching job in Troy. The private school system needed to maintain its reputation, and apparently some donors were concerned about her influence on young children. She went back to Indiana to familiar surroundings and taught for a public school system near Indianapolis. The money wasn’t good, but at least she could survive.
It was a two-hour drive from Iowa City to Mitchellville. Brent Simmons should have utilized a driver. It was four hours he could have worked, but he chose to drive. He wanted to be alone and come to terms with the assignment ahead of him. Claire Nichols needed to be informed of a possible pending civil lawsuit. Brent knew as the head legal counsel for Rawlings Industries he could have sent someone else. He wanted to send someone else. Mr. Rawlings made it clear that wasn’t an option.
The July sun shone bright on the pavement ahead of him. 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 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 he was still hospitalized. He looked and sounded healthy but his disposition wasn’t pleasant as he informed them that all evidence pointed to Claire. Courtney was devastated, she argued with Tony. After she left the room Tony informed Brent that they were not allowed to visit or help Claire after what she did. 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. It was mid-February when 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 take a look at it.
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 titled “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 details 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? He panicked, thinking he shouldn’t have read it and should delete it.