“John?” Brent swallowed hard. “Did the shit hit the fan?”

“Yeah, a few days ago. His firm pressed charges.”

Brent closed his eyes and shook his head. “Damn, I didn’t know it would happen so soon.”

“Focus! This isn’t about him or even her. I’m getting out of here soon. Find out exactly what Evergreen’s planning. He just trips over himself whenever I talk to him, with all his damn yes sirs and no sirs.”

“I’ll find out what’s happening. Would you drop the charges to avoid a trial?”

“That’s just it. I never pressed charges—the state of Iowa did. I fuck’n lost control of this, and I want you to get it back for me—yesterday.”

Brent nodded and looked at his watch. “I’ll see what I can do. Do you have your cell?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll call you later tonight. When are they letting you out?”

“If I had my way it would’ve been yesterday. My doctor’s this little five-foot firecracker who refuses to release me until some damn numbers drop in my blood.”

Brent smiled. “So the administrators don’t give a damn about your donations?”

“They do, and they’re making sure I get the best. Apparently, that’s her and she’s not interested in my donations or cash on the side—I’ve tried. Maybe I should pay off the damn lab techs. I’ll pay for the fuck’n numbers to go down.”

“Jesus, Tony! Listen to the damn doctor. I’d bet they want you out of here as much as you want to be out.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile. “You’re probably right, but I might look into the lab tech angle.”

Brent walked toward the door. “I’m leaving. I’ll call you after I talk with Evergreen.”

“Brent.” Tony’s tone lowered. “Do what I said. Control your wife. Don’t disappoint me.”

Brent nodded as he stepped through the door. Tony saw members of his security staff standing just beyond the open frame. Closing his eyes, he remembered Catherine’s words: Claire and Mrs. Simmons were getting close? Memories of Courtney’s question increased his discomfort. Close—how close? Had Claire said anything to Courtney that would cause her to suspect him of pushing Claire to the extreme of attempted murder? Shit—he needed to feel that out. Could it be that Claire had disappointed him without him even realizing it? He opened his eyes. The monitor near his bed was beeping faster and faster as new red flooded the empty room.

* * *

The damn numbers finally confirmed Tony’s health. That didn’t mean the pain was gone. His ribs hurt every time he breathed, and the cardiologist warned that Tony could have long-term effects. His heart would require further monitoring, but the signs for his long-range recovery were positive.

Riding up the drive of his estate, Tony pushed his emotions away. With Claire gone, his house seemed so empty. He’d spoken with Catherine on multiple occasions and, thankfully, she’d never boasted about Claire’s failure. As a matter of fact, she was genuinely saddened by the outcome and worried about Tony’s well-being. Whenever Tony mentioned Claire, Catherine would steer the subject to him and his recovery. He reassured her that he would get well, and he never doubted that he would.

Focusing on his responsibilities at Rawlings, which Tim had been assuming for too long, Tony entered his front door determined to ignore the obvious emptiness. His staff fell over themselves as they fulfilled his every need. It wasn’t until he’d been home for a few hours that he wandered into the sitting room. He didn’t mean to look above the fireplace—but he did. Tony wasn’t looking for the green eyes; however, when he saw the large mirror that had hung there for years, fury overtook his being.

“Where the hell is the wedding portrait?”

There was no one near; the house was as empty as it felt. When he screamed his question again, Cindy came running. “Mr. Rawlings, are you all right? Can I help you?”

“No! I’m not all right! Where is Mrs. Rawlings’ portrait?” He’d paid a fortune to have that portrait commissioned. He’d purposely had it painted by Sophia Rossi. No, not Rossi—Burke, and now it was gone!

“Sir, Catherine had it removed. She believed that you wouldn’t—”

“I don’t care what she believed! Where is it?”

“Sir, I-I don’t know?”

“Where is Catherine?”

Suddenly, Catherine appeared, hurrying in from the hall. “Cindy, I’ll help Mr. Rawlings. Thank you.”

Cindy looked to Tony and waited. When he nodded, she turned away.

Catherine’s voice tried to reassure. “Mr. Rawlings, you are supposed to rest.”

He waited until Cindy left the room. “Where the fuck is the picture?”

“I thought that you—”

He glared. “I didn’t ask you what you thought. I don’t care what you think! Tell me where the fuck the painting is!”

Catherine’s shoulders squared. “It’s in her suite.”

Tony closed his eyes and exhaled. Reestablishing his glare, he spoke slowly. “Don’t you fuck’n touch any of her things. Don’t make any damn assumptions about what I want and what I don’t want. This isn’t negotiable. Her things belong to me. Only I will decide what happens to them. I don’t want to have this conversation again—ever. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.” He heard the contempt in Catherine’s voice, and at that moment Tony didn’t give a damn.

“Have the portrait moved to my suite and hung over my fireplace. It’ll stay there until I decide. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.” He turned on his heel and stepped deliberately from the sitting room. Fighting the urge to go up to Claire’s suite, Tony went to his office and contemplated his most recent revelation. If the state of Iowa wouldn’t allow him to decide Claire’s fate, then his most recent idea could. He called Brent.

Brent picked up on the third ring. “Yes, Tony?”

“What if she’s insane?”

“Excuse me?”

“I told you that she’d been acting more and more detached since Johnson died. What if she lost it?”

Brent waited and then he said, “Evergreen said she’s been very quiet, not saying much of anything.”

Tony smiled. This could work! “If she pleads insanity, what could happen? Can we avoid the trial?”

“Let me look into it,” Brent replied. “Do you want the state to sentence her to an institution?”

“No!” Tony’s answer came too fast. “I want to pay for it. There’s no sense having the people of Iowa pay her expenses.”

“And when … if … she gets better?” Brent asked.

“We’ll cross that bridge, but if I’m paying, it should be my decision.” Everything about her had been his decision, even before she knew his name. He wasn’t losing that control now.

“Tony, I’ll investigate and get back to you. Evergreen said there’s a preexamination scheduled for the day after tomorrow.”

“I should be there.”

“That isn’t the customary practice.”

“I don’t give a shit what’s customary. You investigate the insanity plea and I’ll call Evergreen.”

Tony didn’t wait for Brent’s answer before he hit: DISCONNECT.

* * *

Tony had Judge Reynolds’ written decision in the breast pocket of his jacket. He didn’t care if Evergreen didn’t want him at this preexamination. Tony wanted Claire to plead insanity, and he needed to tell her. Honestly, he didn’t expect any resistance from her or her counsel. Evergreen had said she received court-appointed attorneys, and apparently her draw hadn’t been the best. Paul Task was fresh out of law school, had recently passed the bar, and was still wet behind the ears. His co-counsel was Jane Allyson. She’d spent a few years in the defender’s office before and during law school. Evergreen said she was tenacious, but unestablished and unknown.

As Tony entered the hallway of conference rooms in the courthouse complex attached to the Iowa City jail, he was met by multiple law-enforcement officers. No one questioned his presence or commented about his wife’s behavior. Everyone greeted him as if he were a long-lost friend. “Hello, Mr. Rawlings.” “It’s nice to see you, Mr. Rawlings.” “Can I help you, Mr. Rawlings?”

It didn’t take him long to find the conference room occupied by Evergreen and his team, as well as Claire and her legal team. There was a small window in the door. As soon as he looked in, he saw her. She looked so small and frail sitting at the cluttered table flanked by her incompetent counsel. Taking a deep breath, and remembering the pain of his broken ribs, he opened the door. The room, which had been full of murmuring, went silent. It was Marcus who finally stood and approached. “Mr. Rawlings, I thought we discussed this, and you weren’t to attend this conference.”

“Mr. Evergreen.” Tony forced himself to look at the prosecutor as they shook hands. Every instinct in his body wanted to look at his wife. Feeling the green of her eyes penetrating his facade, he pushed on. “I appreciate everyone’s concern for my safety. I’ll repeat what I told Judge Reynolds. I don’t believe my wife is a threat to my well-being. I believe if we can have a few moments alone, we can save the taxpayers of Iowa the cost of a lengthy trial, and this court, some time. Judge Reynolds has agreed to my request.”

Marcus nodded and turned toward his team. Immediately, they began to move their chairs and stand. Claire’s counsel whispered to one another and then to Claire. Next, Paul Task stood to meet Tony chest to chest. It was almost comical. Tony tried not to smile as Mr. Task stuttered, “M-Mr. Rawlings, I-I’ll need to confirm that Judge Reynolds has indeed approved this visit. In situations such as this—”

Grinning, Tony reached into his jacket and passed a paper to Claire’s frightened attorney. “Of course, Mr. Task. I would have expected no less. Here’s the good judge’s written approval.”