She continued to pace the carpeted floor. She had plenty of work she could be doing. But, with the press conference an hour ago, she couldn’t concentrate on anything except willing her phone to ring. If the call didn’t come soon, it never would.
The memories of Claire Nichols’ case flooded Jane’s thoughts. The idea to request a pardon had never occurred to her, but it was a good idea. The part that scared her – hell, it must have scared the person who sent her the application -- was Anthony Rawlings. The man was extremely influential. There would be repercussions if the pardon was actually granted. Jane pushed those thoughts away. She couldn’t think about that now. She could only wait.
Lost in her own thoughts, the ringing of her telephone made her heart race and body flinch. Momentarily, she stared at the devise. Was it her imagination? Were the sounds truly resonating from the small plastic telephone? Reaching for the receiver, with a trembling hand, she utilized her courtroom skills and steadied her voice. “Hello, yes, this is Jane Allyson…”
Jane’s grip upon the steering wheel blanched her knuckles. The drive from Des Moines to Mitchellville took less than thirty minutes, and at two fifteen in the afternoon traffic wasn’t an issue. The issue which lingered in Jane’s mind was her continual work under the radar. No one on planet Earth knew what she was doing. It added to the mystery.
The dichotomous March sky stretched before her, gray upon gray. The shades weren’t the same, yet they weren’t different. Just clouds upon clouds. Turning east onto highway I 80 Jane thought about the prisoner only a few miles ahead. In her briefcase, on the seat next to her, was the one page document that would change Claire Nichols’ life forever.
Three days ago, this document didn’t exist. Jane Allyson wondered about the petition and the check. Right or wrong, she decided to keep the assignment to herself. In the world of money and influence, anyone could be tempted to inform Anthony Rawlings of her impending quest.
She wasn’t accusing anyone, at any level, of wrong doing. It was only that Claire made claims, real valiant assertions and accusations. Like mist from a lake into the cool evening sky, her testimony evaporated. Over a year later, no one -- not even nosey reporters -- had the slightest inclination of the possible alternate personality of Iowa’s golden boy. Some small voice within Jane’s soul warned her not to share her current activities. Once complete, she would request a meeting with the partners of the firm. Hopefully, they would understand. At this moment, Jane chose to worry about Claire, instead of possible personal consequences.
Unbelievably, the list of pardoned individuals released to the media following the press conference didn’t include Claire Nichols. Yet, the document was in Jane’s possession. Pulling into the visitor’s parking area, Jane Allyson tingled with anticipation. Fourteen months ago she wasn’t able to help her client. Today she would.
The elation vaporized with an unexpected realization. Jane stood statuesque, her hand upon the door, immobilized by a thought, who has $100,000 available to free Claire from prison? She’d been so attached to the premise that it was someone who feared Anthony Rawlings. What if instead of someone who feared him, what if it was him? Could it be? But why?
By submitting the petition, instead of being a rebel, could Jane be a pawn? What if the freedom she was about to grant Claire was nothing more than an enticement to a web? Her hand held the door handle, and her stomach lurched. Jane couldn’t let these thoughts stop her forward progress. Claire Nichols deserved freedom. Jane needed to intercede and assure Claire’s freedom wasn’t only from the state of Iowa, but out of Iowa.
An eerie florescent glow illuminated the small dingy visitor’s room. The artificial light added to the coolness of the metal table and chairs. Jane continued to check her watch. How long does it take to bring a prisoner to this room?
The answer was thirteen minutes. Nearly thirteen minutes after Jane’s arrival to the small colorless room the door opened. Accompanied by a guard, Claire Nichols entered and sat in the opposing chair. She looked much as Jane remembered, with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Although her complexion was pale, even without makeup, her eyes were still the vivid green. Though similar in stature to herself, the prisoner appeared more petite inside her Iowa issued jumpsuit.
“Jane, I’m surprised to see you. Why are you here?” Claire’s inquiry sounded amazingly strong.
“Have you heard of a pardon?’
“Yes, it’s something the president does before he leaves office. Why?”
“Because it’s also something the governor does before leaving office.”
Claire’s green eyes narrowed as she searched for words. “I don’t understand.”
“Governor Bosley has cancer. He resigned from office today.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I believe he attended my wedding.” She paused momentarily contemplating the information, “What did you just say about a pardon?”