“You told me to get you coffee.” Although her voice was strong, he saw the tears that threatened to spill from her glistening eyes. She continued, “I’ve thought about it a million times. There must’ve been poison in the coffee already … or in the cream. I just don’t know. I don’t know who would do this. The only other people at home were staff—staff you’ve employed for years—but it should be on surveillance. You have cameras in the kitchen—”
He interrupted, “All evidence points to you. Then, there’s the way you ran to the car and drove away.”
Suddenly, the emerald was gone as she looked down at the table and mumbled, “I’m sorry.” She paused. Still looking at the table, she continued, “It was impulsive. I knew not to take one of the cars, but I saw the keys. I hadn’t had the opportunity in so long, the sky was so blue, and you’d been—well, life had been unpredictable. I felt like I was suffocating and just needed a reprieve, a small break. Honestly, Tony, I was about to turn around to come home. I wanted to be home—I want to be with you.”
He lifted her chin. “Claire, how are your accommodations?” His voice was low yet strong. “Consequences, appearances, I thought you’d learned your lessons better.”
“Tony, please take me home. I promise I’ll never disappoint you again. Please tell them you know I wouldn’t—couldn’t—do this.”
It was the pleading he wanted, and once she was in the mental facility, he’d allow her to expand upon her remorse. In the meantime, he needed to push forward.
Claire continued, “I know there’ll be consequences and punishment. I don’t care, as long as you’re all right. I just want to go home. Please, please, Tony, they’ll listen to you.”
He looked deep into her eyes. He’d trusted her and she’d failed him. He spoke softly, “The entire thing seems to be a colossal accident. However, I’ve done some research and it seems you can plead insanity and receive treatment instead of incarceration.”
She sprung from her chair and started to pace. “What are you saying? I’m not pleading insanity! That means guilty and crazy—I’m neither! And this wasn’t an accident. I didn’t try to kill you!”
He stood and moved very close. Looking down, he whispered, “Claire, listen. I’ve found a mental hospital that is willing to accept you. I’ll pay the expenses so the taxpayers aren’t responsible for your lack of judgment.”
“I’ve been here for over a week. I’ve been questioned over and over. I haven’t divulged any private information. I’ve followed all the rules. The only rule I broke was driving a car. That’s it!”
She was too loud. He kept his voice low, trying to make her understand. “This plea will avoid a trial. The entire unfortunate incident is understandable. You came from a modest background. The life we shared had pressures and responsibilities—with entertaining, charities, and reporters. It’s understandable. You just couldn’t handle it.”
Claire sat. Tony walked to her and bent down to maintain eye contact. “I should’ve recognized the signs. Perhaps, I was too busy with work. When you recently canceled your charity obligations, I should’ve realized how overwhelmed you felt.” He fought the disappointment that fueled an unneeded rage. Although he tried to sound reassuring, authority prevailed in his tone. This was too important. Claire needed to listen to every word. It was what he’d done after her accident; he planted the seed and she obediently embedded its roots. He wanted the same outcome. Just as she’d responded to Dr. Leonard, he needed her to respond to her attorneys. “You wanted out, and in a moment of weakness—no, in a moment of insanity— you decided the only way out was to try to kill me. I’m only thankful that you underestimated the amount of poison needed or you may have succeeded. After all, if you’d succeeded, I wouldn’t be here to help you now.” He pulled out a chair and sat facing his wife. “Aren’t you glad I’m able to help you? And, Claire …” He leaned nearer. “… I hear the rooms at the mental facility are larger than the cells at the federal penitentiary.”
Tony expected a sign of recognition. He expected her to grab the lifeline he was throwing and hold on with both hands. It was a gift. She’d disappointed him—failed his test, publicly and privately—yet instead of walking away, he was offering her an out. This solution would help her and fulfill his need for control. Claire was his—her belongings, her portrait, and most importantly, her. He was angry. She had a long way to go to earn back his trust, but nonetheless, he was offering her an out. Claire needed to understand that he was helping her.
When she straightened her neck and met his eyes, he immediately realized—she wasn’t taking his offer. The fire he loved to see was burning a blaze brighter than he’d ever seen. Didn’t she understand? He loved that strength, but now wasn’t the time. Now she needed to redeem herself.
Tony stood in amazement of the defiance before him. He wouldn’t beg her! Damn her. This was crucial! He continued, disappointment audible in his tone, “Utilize the time you have to think this over. Don’t make another poor, impulsive decision. This is your best offer.” He knocked on the door. “Goodbye, Claire.”
She didn’t respond as he stepped back into the hall.
“Mr. Rawlings?” Marcus asked. “Is everything set?”