Consequences(230)

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’ll 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’ll be kept in impound until it’s picked up or you’re 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 had the sensation of a popping balloon—once full—now completely deflated. Freedom was sweet and gone.

When they pulled up to the Illinois State Police Station 56, Claire 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 where 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’m 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’d face at home.

She broke the most important rule—many times—and now it was public. There was no way 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’d 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’m Sergeant Miles and this”—pointing to the man on his left—“is FBI Agent Ferguson.”

“Hello. I’m 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.