After one more tumbler, Tony proclaimed that he’d shut the door on his memories. He’d done it before and would do it again. Leaning back in his leather chair, he removed his jacket and extracted his phone. The blinking light alerted him, reminding him that there were always people trying to reach him—calls, text messages, or emails. A quick brush of the screen told him that besides the plethora of emails, he had two missed calls with voice mails. The first telephone number was the governor’s office. Tony didn’t know why Preston, the new governor, would call, unless he was looking for a favor. Tony had fulfilled more than a few of those, especially for Marcus Evergreen, Iowa City’s prosecutor. As much as it irritated Tony to be at the man’s beck and call, the prosecutor had done his part to help Tony by ridding the world of Ms. Nichols’ accusations. Quid pro quo. The missed calls grated on Tony, reminding him that some debts may never truly be repaid; nevertheless, if keeping the new governor happy would one day benefit Tony, he would endure the imposition.
Being after 7:00 PM, the Iowa state offices were obviously closed until tomorrow. There was no need to bother with the voice mail now. Tony made a mental note to call Governor Preston in the morning. As he was about to check the second message, a bit of news on his computer screen caught his eye, and he mindlessly laid his phone on his desk, his thoughts overtaken with the information on his home screen. A subsidiary of Rawlings Industries had a substantial jump in stock price. The attached article stated that the upswing was due to the proposed quarterly revenue reports; the actual revenue reports wouldn’t be released until early next month. Wondering if the reports would support the assumptions, Tony began accessing data. Within seconds, everything else was forgotten. Even dinner slipped his mind until Catherine knocked on the door.
After he ate, Tony turned off his private line and told his staff that unless the house was burning, he did not want to be interrupted. Minutes turned to hours, and the March Iowa sky darkened, as Tony continued to work, read, and make notations. The memories that plagued him earlier found themselves successfully locked behind a wall of figures and reports. It wasn’t until nearly midnight that he noticed his phone. With the ringer muted, he’d forgotten about the voice mails and texts. Illuminating the screen, he saw that the alerts from before had multiplied. Scanning the list of numbers, Brent Simmons was the most recently missed call. He’d also sent the last received text.
“GOVERNOR PRESTON HAS CALLED ME SEVERAL TIMES TRYING TO REACH YOU. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE WANTS. HE SAID HE MUST TALK TO YOU TONIGHT. I’VE CALLED AND TEXTED. ARE YOU OUT? PRESTON SAID TO CALL HIM NO MATTER THE TIME.”
Tony shook his head and accessed the voice mail from the unknown number.
“Mr. Rawlings, er, Anthony, this is Sheldon Preston. I hope you get this message. I must discuss something with you tonight. I don’t care how late it is. Please call me. This is my personal cell. You can reach me here at any hour.”
Tony sighed, wondering what possible favor was so damn important. Scrolling the list of missed calls, he saw Sheldon’s private number repeatedly, as well as Brent’s. Fine, if the governor wanted to speak to him so damn bad, he’d call him at this ungodly hour.
Governor Sheldon Preston answered on the first ring. “Mr. Rawlings, thank you for returning my call.”
“It’s late, Governor. What do you need?”
“I wanted to tell you—before you saw the news tomorrow—Claire Nichols is out of prison.”
Tony leaned forward, his mouth gaped in disbelief. How could she be out of prison? She had only served fourteen months of her seven-year sentence. “What in the hell do you mean she’s out of prison? Did she escape? What kind of facility is this state operating?”
“N-no, Mr. Rawlings, she didn’t escape,” Preston stuttered.
“Then what happened? She had over five years left on her sentence.”
“Yes, she did.”
“Did?” Tony asked.
“Well, you see, Governor Bosley pardoned her.”
Tony’s pale world seeped with crimson. “What the hell?”
“Er—”
Tony didn’t let the man speak. “Bosley resigned before I left for Europe. How did he grant her a pardon—now?”
“That’s the thing. Governor Bosley granted her a pardon two weeks ago. Somehow her name escaped the newspapers. I wasn’t informed until today. I’m not sure where the mix-up occurred; however, I intend to find out. Mr. Rawlings, please know that I’m very sorry. You should’ve been notified immediately. You should know that my entire office has been in an uproar. I’m very upset about this. I promise I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Tony listened as his hand clenched the small phone. He couldn’t contain the fury in his voice. “Two weeks ago! Two weeks! The woman who tried to kill me has been out of prison for two fuck’n weeks and I’m just now learning about it!”
“I’m very sorry. That’s why I wanted to speak with you before the story hit the media tomorrow. I’ve been informed that there’s a news blitz coming out first thing in the morning about how her name escaped the earlier press release. They’re insinuating a cover-up. You can understand how as a new governor—”
“You think you’re upset? What about me?”
“Yes, I’m sure you…”
Sheldon’s words faded as Tony tried to think rationally. Damage control. There must be damage control. “My publicist should be involved in this news blitz. Who’s running it?”