The American Airlines’ agent at the counter didn’t question Claire’s Iowa state issued identification. Within minutes she handed Claire her boarding pass -- a nonstop first class ticket to San Francisco, departing in ninety minutes.
Each step toward the concourse removed a little of Claire’s heaviness. Although the anxiety and apprehension she’d experienced under Tony’s rule knocked at the door of Claire’s heart and soul, she tried desperately to suppress those fears. Her counsel’s attention and kindness helped to alleviate the burden. Claire truly didn’t have time to process her sudden freedom. Turning toward Jane, she inquired, “Tell me again about the pardon. Do I need to check in with anyone?”
Jane explained, “Everything associated with the charge of attempted murder is now gone. The arrest, plea, incarceration… it’s all gone. Your record will appear as though it never occurred.” She emphasized, “Claire, the last fourteen months never happened.”
“Thirty-six.” Claire corrected.
Jane looked into her client’s eyes. She saw the victim’s eyes of over a year ago, not the eyes of an attempted murderer. The sadness combined with confusion told Jane, release wouldn’t be that simple. Removing Claire from the walls of Iowa’s Correctional Institution for Women was easier than removing the past thirty-six months from her memories. There was nothing Jane could say. Getting Claire safely out of Iowa was her only goal. “Please take care of yourself.” Jane said as she pulled an envelope and a card out of her purse. “Here is my card with my cell and office number as well as email. If I can be of any assistance, please don’t hesitate to contact me. And in this envelope are a few things I believe should belong to you.”
Claire took the items from her attorney and slowly opened the envelope. Staring back at her was fifty dollars in ten dollar bills and a cashier’s check made out to cash for $100,000. “No, Jane. I can’t accept this. This is for you. It’s your payment for helping me.”
“The cash will help with incidentals until you reach your friend. And, as for the check, it’s a ridiculous amount of money for a few hours’ work. You get settled. When you can, send me an appropriate payment for my services. Consider it seed money to start your new life.”
“But we don’t know who it’s from.”
“No, we don’t. If perhaps it’s from whom we suspect, wouldn’t he be happy to learn it went to you?”
Slowly Claire’s lips turned upward; she shook her head. “No. No, he wouldn’t.” Claire scanned the mingling crowd for a familiar face. Exhaling with relief at the sea of strangers, Claire continued, “And for that reason, I accept.” The two women embraced. “Thank you, Jane, for everything.”
Claire straightened her shoulders, and turned toward the gate. It’d been sometime since she’d flown commercial, but she knew Jane wasn’t allowed past security without a boarding pass. Thankfully, no one else would be either.
Jane watched as Claire passed the TSA agents and disappeared into the crowd of bodies. With an audible sigh, Jane thanked God no one recognized her client, and the reporters hadn't been notified. She had no idea how long it would take interested parties to learn of Claire’s release and flight. However long, Jane hoped it was long enough.
Claire Nichols sat in a row of connected black vinyl chairs, holding all of her worldly possessions and soaking in the scene around her. There were people talking, reading, and even sleeping. Periodically the dim background noise shattered with announcements over the PA system. They told of flights boarding and others delayed. No one noticed her. No one cared that only four hours earlier she’d been a prisoner of the state of Iowa. The buzzing in Claire’s brain began to dull, and her pulse steadied. In another thirty-five minutes she’d be boarding a plane. Claire hoped she wouldn't hear an announcement saying her flight was delayed. She may not remember her initial arrival to Iowa, but she was savoring her final exit. Returning was not on her agenda.
Her inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of her name, “Ms. Nichols?” A large security officer bent down to speak quietly near Claire’s ear.
Startled by the man’s closeness and words, she managed a response, “Yes? I’m Claire Nichols.”
“I need you to come with me, please.”
Oh God, no! She thought. Please let me get on this plane. Involuntarily, moisture returned to Claire’s eyes as the shrill sound of alarms reverberated within her head. Trying to speak steadily over the deafening panic, only she could hear, she uttered, “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I can do that. I can’t miss my flight.”
“Ms. Nichols, if you will please come to my office, I’ll explain everything.”