Marcus spoke calmly, “Mrs. Vandersol, that leads us to the most serious charge that Mr. Rawlings faced: kidnapping and transporting across state lines. As you know it’s a federal offense…” He went on to explain how he fought to keep that charge above everything.
“But four years?” John asked. “As a federal offense it can be punishable by up to twenty years, in some cases, life.”
Marcus replied, “There are many different stipulations that go along with kidnapping. Ms. Nichols was not a minor. There’s a stiffer penalty with minors. She was not sold into human trafficking. That too has a stiffer penalty. By her own admission, she had opportunities to flee and didn’t.”
“Because she was scared.” Tears coated Emily’s cheeks in a visible display of her frustration. She turned to Courtney. “You were her friend during that time. You know she was scared, don’t you?”
Courtney sat forward. “Emily, I had a feeling—a gut feeling—that something wasn’t right. Please know that I did, and still do love your sister. I asked her over and over if there was a problem. She never once told me there was.” She paused. “Well, not until later, after she was out of jail.”
“Jail!” John said. “What about filing a false report? Claire didn’t try to kill Anthony, yet she served fourteen months.”
Marcus cleared his throat. “The state of Iowa is responsible for that. I won’t admit to that publicly so don’t ask me to. But honestly, Mr. Rawlings woke in the hospital not knowing who poisoned him. The evidence, including video evidence, all supported that it was Mrs. Rawlings.”
Emily shook her head. “So that’s it. He pays $75,000, which to him is like pocket change, and he gets a slap on the wrist.”
“He confessed. He pled guilty,” Brent reminded her. “If he hadn’t, he would be free right now and exercising his rights as a free man.”
Emily’s green eyes opened wide. “He’s not getting to my sister or my niece. Not now, and not in four years. I didn’t protect her in 2010. I will now.”
“Thank you. Thank you for explaining this all to us. We’re not happy, but at least we understand.” John’s words were the dismissal for the meeting. Slowly, everyone rose from their seats, murmured their goodbyes and silently made their way out of the courthouse into the hot, sunny Iowa afternoon and through the throng of reporters.
“Mrs. Vandersol, could you give us a statement?”
“Mr. Vandersol, how do you feel about Mr. Rawlings’ sentence?”
“Did he really plead guilty?”
“Mr. Simmons, tell us how your client feels…”
No one replied as they made their way to their cars.
Nichol rocked back and forth on her knees as she giggled and inched forward toward the brightly colored toy in front of her. A little progress and she was back to her tummy, arms and legs flailing in glee. With single-minded determination, she made the distance and reached for the soft black and red rattle. Once it was hers, she took it straight to her lips, her little jaw moving up and down.
“I think she’s teething,” Emily said.
“I thought babies were fussy when they teethed,” replied John.
“Becca said she had trouble going down for her nap, but since she woke, she’s been great.”
John scooped her from the floor and brought her to his lap. Contently, she chewed on her prized possession, until it fell from her grasp. Kicking her legs she arched her body in protest. As her cheeks reddened, John asked, “Whom do you think she gets that strong will from?”
Sighing, Emily leaned back and massaged her enlarged midsection. “I’d say both of them. Did you know that they’d worked together on a deal with the FBI?”
“No. I knew they didn’t pursue the aiding and abetting charge, but I didn’t realize there was an FBI connection.”
“Do you think they were really happy…” Her voice trailed away and then regained strength. “…wherever they were in the South Pacific?”
John shrugged. “I don’t see how. I mean, the more I read—”
“I told you not to.”
“I know. I’m not rushing through it, although I should, to get it over with. But I read it while flying. I just read about the first time she was allowed to call us. It was your birthday. Do you remember that?”
Tears descended as she managed to say, “I do. I was so happy to hear from her. If only I’d known…”
John moved to pull Emily into his arms. “I know… I’m so sorry we didn’t know… Courtney was right. Claire never told anyone.”
Emily nodded. “I hate that he got off so easy.”
“I was incarcerated. Trust me: he isn’t getting off easy.”
“Unless someone beats him into unconsciousness, I think it’s too easy.”
John shrugged. “Well, if he pisses off the wrong people—”
Emily grinned. “You’re just trying to make me feel better!”
After dinner, John settled at his desk in the study and looked at Tim’s business card, the one he’d been given earlier today. It was lying innocently on the desk… pleading for attention. Truly, John was curious as to what Tim wanted to say. Though the card had only his business numbers, in pen, Tim had added his personal cell number. John punched the number into his phone.
Contemplating the conversation he’d just had, John made his way through the house and found Emily lying on their bed, hands over her enlarged midsection, with her eyes closed. She looked so peaceful that John hated to disturb her. As he was about to walk away, her eyes fluttered open. “I thought you were sleeping,” he said softly.