Convicted (Consequences)

Harry considered his other missed calls and hit the VOICEMAIL icon, once again.
    Message two—“Baldwin—Anthony Rawlings. I intend to fully cooperate with the FBI. I know that picture was bullshit, but I’m calling. I don’t intend to make my whereabouts known until my child is born, or after. I will—I can’t now. If...if Claire ever meant more to you than a damn assignment then just let us have this. We’ll call back.”
    When the line disconnected, Harry let out the breath he’d been holding. How the hell did Anthony Rawlings believe he—Harrison Baldwin—had that kind of power? Yeah, right? Like Harry could suddenly say, “Hey, let’s leave Anthony Rawlings and Claire Nichols alone before their big day—for the birth of their child.”
    As the large SUV neared the San Francisco field office, Harry pulled up his third voice message—“Agent Baldwin, our car will be late; please be advised.”

 
     
     
    We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.
    —Martin Luther King, Jr.
     
     
     
    Wheeling Claire’s dinner down the long, quiet corridor, Meredith contemplated Ms. Bali’s concerns and directives—Ms. Nichols underwent tests earlier in the day. Due to an unforeseen glitch, additional sedation was required. As Ms. Bali uttered the word glitch , the hairs on the back of Meredith’s neck prickled. The supervisor once said that she’d read Meredith’s book. Could she possibly understand the significance of that word? Fighting to remain stoic, Meredith continued listening. Ms. Bali explained that the tests were scheduled for the entire morning and the additional sedation resulted in prolonged hours of unresponsiveness. Ms. Nichols hadn’t eaten all day. Actually, she’d just recently awakened. Her sister had been here most of the afternoon and had only recently left, waiting until Claire was fully awake. The staff, who assisted with daily showers and hygiene, should be just about done. Mrs. Vandersol wasn’t happy with the day’s mishaps, including an entire day without nutrition. Ms. Bali couldn’t emphasize enough— Claire must eat! She also praised Meredith’s past interactions and offered her confidence in Meredith’s ability to accomplish their goal.
    With each step toward Claire’s room, Meredith questioned that ability. She assumed that, with Claire’s new uncooperative state and today’s excessive use of sedation, tonight’s dinner could go less than smooth. Taking a deep breath, Meredith knocked respectfully and slowly opened Claire’s door. It wasn’t as though she expected a greeting.
    Claire was alone. The people who helped her bathe and dress were gone; however, she wasn’t sitting in her normal seat by the window. She was pacing near her bed. Despite Meredith’s knock and greeting, Claire didn’t turn or acknowledge her entrance.
    Something about Claire looked different—determined—purposeful. Meredith saw the straightness of her posture and clenching of her jaw. Each time she changed direction on her invisible track—back and forth—Meredith saw an intensity in her eyes. Meredith hadn’t seen that look for a long time; however, she had seen it before. It was the expression Claire wore during the hours recalling difficult times in her and Anthony’s relationship. Even then, when she’d repeat a particularly bad time, Meredith remembered Claire’s expression—it was as if she were seeing the scene before her, which wasn’t visible to anyone else. That was the exact expression Meredith saw now. Years ago, Meredith assumed it to be Claire’s internal debate. She’d agreed to share her story, knew it was accurate, but she felt conflicted, especially later in their interview process as her and Mr. Rawlings’ relationship began its reconciliation.
    During those interviews, Meredith waited patiently and allowed Claire the necessary time to sort her thoughts. When she did, Claire would recall the scenarios with eloquence. On some occasions Meredith had to remind herself to type rather than simply listening. Later, when she’d review Claire’s dictation, rarely was there need to change or modify—everything was obviously well deliberated. Watching her now, Meredith wondered what she was thinking.
    Meredith placed Claire’s food on her table and called to her, “Claire, it’s me, Meredith. I brought your dinner.” Not surprising, neither Claire’s stance nor pace wavered. If anything, her internal debate