Chosen by a Killer

by Laurie Nave

  Celia sighed. “Ugh, a hearing.”

  “Yeah,” Frank replied. “You’re essentially asking the court to restrict his freedom. They’ll need evidence.”

  “In the meantime,” Walter said, “I’ll go down to his firm, try to catch him as he goes outside, and have a polite but firm talk with him. I can be imposing when I need to be.”

  “I’m sure you can.” Celia smiled. “You’re quite a presence.”

  Walter smiled. “Yeah, I’m part of the goon squad when I need to be.”

  Celia nodded. They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Walter left.

  “You need anything else?” Frank asked.

  “No, I’m good. I appreciate this.”

  “Stalking is no joke,” Frank said. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  Once Celia left the office, she decided to see about getting her cell number changed. It would be a pain in the ass, but Bart would have more trouble contacting her. She was about to unlock her car when she felt an uncomfortable presence, so she looked up and around her.

  Bart was across the street. He didn’t try to approach her; he just leaned against the crosswalk sign and watched her. When their eyes met, he smiled. Celia looked away quickly and got into her car. She didn’t want him to know he’d rattled her. However, at least now he probably knew she had contacted the police. Maybe the idea of legal trouble would make him back off. Somehow Celia doubted it. She made sure she pulled away slowly so that he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of thinking he made her run.

  At 3:00, Celia met with William, her new boss, and they discussed some of her duties as Editor-in-Chief. He wanted to know all about the projects she was working on, and Celia talked him through all of them. All of them except one. John had never put her interviews with Natasha on the books, and neither had she. For some reason, she wanted to keep it quiet. Once she knew a little more about how William did things, she’d let him in on the story. No matter how Multicorp Media usually did things, Celia knew her contract with Natasha regarding secrecy wasn’t going to change. Now that she and Natasha were in the middle of the process, Celia didn’t want to jeopardize anything.

  “I think this new partnership is going to benefit us both, Ms. Brockwell,” William said, standing. “I look forward to seeing some great things.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Keller,” Celia replied, reaching forward to shake his hand. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

  “You’ve been bigger than your previous role for some time. And please, call me William.”

  “I will if you’ll call me Celia.”

  “Deal.” William smiled. “Well, I have about four other meetings before my day is done. I’ll let you get back to work.”

  Celia sat down and consulted her laptop. She could probably get the first draft of her latest story done before she left if she stayed late. It drove her crazy to leave work without a good stopping place. She pulled up her notes and began typing. She was in her flow when Gladys interrupted her.

  “You have a call,” Gladys said tentatively. “It’s um... It’s John.”

  “I’ll take it.” Celia sighed. “Might as well get it over with.”

  Gladys closed the door and forwarded the call. “Hi, John.”

  “Well, I guess you got what you wanted,” John said curtly.

  “What are you talking about? I had no idea this was coming.”

  “Sure,” John laughed. “I guess that fancy prison story worked its magic.”

  “I told you before, John, there is no agenda behind that story. William doesn’t even know about it.”

  John laughed again. “Yes, he does. I told him.”

  “You did? Why?” And why hadn’t William mentioned it in their meeting?

  “He didn’t seem surprised either. Even he knew you pushed me out.”

  Celia fought the urge to curse. “John, I didn’t push you anywhere. How could I? I do my job every day, and you did yours. There is nothing else to say. I had no control over this.”

  “Yeah, I know you and your little friend Marlene are close. I’m sure she told you all about the real reason she left. And even with the gag order, I bet you know about the money.”

  Celia sat back, her head spinning with questions. “John, I have no clue what you are talking about. Yes, I’m friends with Marlene. No, she hasn’t told me any big secrets. She always wanted a restaurant. She got one. End of story.”

  “We’ll see. You’ll see,” John said. “Running things isn’t as easy as you think it is. Don’t expect any sympathy from me when you fail.”

  “I won’t fail. I don’t fail,” Celia snapped. “I’m a hell of a lot more qualified than you ever were. Go to hell, John.” And with that, Celia slammed the phone onto the receiver. The sound was a hell of a lot more satisfying than a simple swipe, she thought. “Gladys, hold all my calls,” she told her assistant before silencing her cell and getting back to the article. She’d had enough crap for one day.

  She got home at 6:30, and the security company van pulled up at 6:45. The officer she talked to had suggested Celia get cameras installed, and so she called Keith to find out who could do it well and do it fast. One of the other guards did security on the side, and Keith assured her he was one of the best.

  Chad, the guard, asked her what she needed, and they discussed packages. In the end, she chose a camera for both doors, attached to the doorbell, a motion light for the front, and a plan that allowed her to access the footage from anywhere. By 9:00, Chad and his crew were done, and Celia had installed the app on her phone and tablet.

  After her shower, Celia made a sandwich and watched a bit of television. By 10:00 she could barely keep her eyes open; she hadn’t slept well the night before. She checked the cameras before turning out the light, glad she could rest a little easier.

  Chapter 19

  Celia was so buried in new responsibilities and deadlines, she wasn’t able to interview Natasha for the next two weeks. William had met with her several times, and she had met with every staff reporter. Between meetings, there were stories to finish and assignments to make. A part of her understood why John was sometimes such an ass. However, she also managed to unravel some of his lack of organization, and Celia was certain that given time she would have things exactly the way they needed to be. It didn’t hurt that most of the staff seemed relieved to have him gone, and they admired her.

  The busyness had also kept her from thinking too much about Bart. He’d been threatening when she initially got the restraining order, but after a stern talk from a police officer, conveniently timed while he was at work, he settled down and had left her alone. Oh, Celia had seen his car nearby when she went for coffee, and she was sure he was likely still driving down her street. But there were no calls, messages, or visits. Keith had come by to install a new lock and a couple of cameras. Celia knew he was attracted to her, but she kept him at an appreciative arm’s length. She needed an ally, not a lover.

  Celia used her time in the evenings to create a special baked dessert for her friend Marlene’s housewarming and gender reveal party. Despite her inability to recreate Marlene’s grandmother’s Italian cheesecake, Celia was determined to visit the spirit of the dessert with her own flair. Marlene was a fan of fresh fruits, so Celia tried several combinations until she created something she hoped Marlene would find irresistible. It would please the host and garner some recognition as well.

  Celia arrived at the gathering at 8:00 sharp, and when Marlene saw her with a cake box, she squealed. “You baked! I can’t wait to try it!” Celia allowed herself to be hugged before breaking away and walking toward the kitchen. There was an abundance of food, which was no surprise, but there was also an array of liquor. Celia was a bit surprised. Marlene couldn’t drink, of course, and David wasn’t much of a drinker. “My step-father brought the bar,” Marlene said wryly.

  “In that case, I’ll try not to let it go unappreciated.” Celia took a high-priced craft beer out of an ice-filled bucket and popped the top.
“I’ve been wanting to try this.”

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” Marlene said, opening a tonic water and clinking it against Celia’s beer. “To the new editor-in-chief.”

  “Thank you. It was a surprise, but I think I’m getting used to it.”

  “You’ll do things with that publication that John would have never been able to do.”

  “I sure hope so,” Celia replied. “There’s a lot of potential there. And with Multicorp’s backing, I think real growth will happen.”

  “I’m just glad they finally did it.”

  “Finally? What do you mean?”

  “I mean there have been other media organizations that have wanted to take us on through the years, but John wouldn’t hear of it. He liked his little kingdom.”

  “What an idiot. He could have made so much more money!”

  “John had plenty of money already, though I’m not sure where it all came from,” Marlene said, her expression darkening.

  Celia was interested in hearing more. “Oh really? And how do you know this?”

  Marlene waved the topic away. “Oh, that’s a boring story for another time. Come on, I want you to see the nursery.”

  The nursery was bright and welcoming, with green and yellow everywhere. No doubt Marlene had picked the color to avoid any gender stereotypes. There were ducks painted along the base of one wall, and the picture window on the opposite wall had gingham-covered blinds, probably specially made. There was a phrase scripted in Italian over the bed: Chi si volta, e chi si gira, sempre a casa va finire.

  “What does that mean?” Celia asked, pointing to the script.

  “No matter where you go or turn, you’ll always end up at home,” Marlene replied.

  “That is lovely,” Celia smiled. “And you look lovely as well.”

  Marlene laughed. “I can’t wear my favorite jeans anymore. But at least I’m done throwing up every day.”

  “I’ll drink to that!” Celia laughed. “I’ll drink for both of us.”

  The house filled with friends and family, and after a bit of eating and socializing, Marlene’s mother produced a large ceramic egg. It was painted with flowers and butterflies, and she explained that the couple would break the egg to find out whether they were having a girl or a boy. Celia was glad they were going with something classy and unique rather than the typical powder or confetti explosion. The couple took a small mallet, held it together, and struck the egg a few times before it finally cracked open. Inside was a small pink doll. They were having a girl. Everyone applauded, Marlene cried, and Celia went into the kitchen to retrieve another beer. She was looking for the opener when her phone began to vibrate.

  It was the alert for her camera system. Someone had approached her front door. She clicked on the icon, and the camera opened. Someone was standing at the door, trying to use a small device to get inside. She didn’t have to see the face to know who it was. The build was exactly like Bart’s, and the hair was short and dark. Cursing, she clicked on the option that caused a light to flash and a small alarm to sound. The figure turned to reveal sunglasses, and he spotted the camera. He lifted a gloved hand and flipped a bird for whoever was watching, and then he quickly ran out of camera view. The video was automatically saved.

  Keith and Walter had been right. The cameras were a necessity. Celia saw the notification pop up asking if she wanted to forward the video to the security company. She opted to save it instead. However, her evening was ruined, and she was ready to get away from all the emotions. She found Marlene and David, told them she wasn’t feeling well, and she slipped away quickly.

  It didn’t take long for Celia to drive home, and once she got there, she saw something sticking out of her mailbox. It was a hastily scrawled note:

  Really, bitch? A camera!

  There was no doubt it was Bart, though the handwriting was overly large and careful. Celia took it into the house and placed it in the folder Keith had set up for her. She was tempted to watch the footage again, but instead, she made sure every door and window was secure before getting ready for bed. Once she was settled, she decided to work on Natasha’s story. Bart was not going to intimidate her, and she was not going to succumb to fear. Staying pissed off was much better. She considered calling Keith, but he would probably want her to file another report, or he might want to come over and check on her. She wasn’t in the mood for that. What she wanted to do was find Bart and acquaint him with the gun she kept locked in a box in her closet, but she knew that wasn’t rational. Anything she did out of emotion would be foolish. Celia had learned that lesson the hard way once. She didn’t want to risk it again.

  “Celia, did you hear about Candace?” The receptionist asked.

  “What happened?” Celia asked.

  “Candace had an accident last night. She was on her way to the courthouse to cover that shooting.”

  “Oh wow, is she okay?”

  “She is, just a few bumps and bruises. Apparently, her brakes locked or something. She’s kicking herself for not getting the first look.”

  “I wondered how I managed to beat her,” Celia replied.

  “You know, I kind of wondered if someone did something to her car. It was a pretty big story.”

  “That would be a dumb thing to do,” Celia remarked quickly. “Let me know if she needs anything.”

  The receptionist nodded, and Celia walked down the hall to her office. Once inside, she sat and collected herself. Candace was okay, the wreck wasn’t serious, and Celia had gotten there first. She’d be the first to break the story. She just hoped that no one else was as suspicious as the receptionist had been.

  Chapter 20

  As usual, Natasha was waiting when Keith and Celia arrived in Room 4. Keith had quizzed Celia about the camera incident. He had Chad set it up to send alerts to his phone as well. She assured him that she was fine, but he wanted her to file it. Bart had broken the restraining order whether she had been there or not, and everything needed to be documented. Celia promised him she would take care of it.

  “At last you arrive,” Natasha teased. “I need a smoke.”

  “I came prepared, as always,” Celia said, and she took out the cigarettes and a small lighter. Keith raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

  “You’ve got him wrapped around your finger I see,” Natasha remarked.

  “As if you didn’t already have him wrapped around the other,” Celia responded.

  “Well, he is a good ally to have.”

  “Yes, he is that. He’s helped me with a few things around the house. I mean home security,” Celia clarified when Natasha grinned.

  “Good. I asked him to insist on it. You are not taking your spurned suitor seriously enough.”

  Celia shook her head and turned on the recorder. “So I have to admit, two weeks ago, you left me with a cliffhanger. You said your father lied, and then our interview ended.”

  “Once an actress, always an actress.” Natasha shrugged.

  “Yes, I know. It’s not the first time. But we only have a few interviews left. I want to spend some time talking with you about your time in here for the story, but, to put it into your terms, we have to kill everyone first.”

  Natasha laughed. “Very nice. I have trained you well.”

  “That’s a rather scary thought, I think,” Celia joked. “So what did your father do? How did he betray you in a way that merited his death?”

  “He lied about my mother.”

  “Your mother? She left when you were young. Did something happen to her?”

  Natasha smoked in silence, and Celia could tell she was crafting the opening of the story inside her head. Celia could understand that. Talking about the hard things always took mental preparation.

  “My mother was always a gentle person. From what I understand, it was her family who helped my father defect from Russia and into the United Kingdom. They married, and one year later I was born.

  “My father was not a gentleman. He kept my mot
her under tight control. At home without him, she was a creative and interesting woman. Once he came home, however, she retreated into herself, capitulating to whatever he demanded. As I got older, I began to see her weakness. Around the time I was ten, their relationship became more tumultuous. My mother became unpredictable and sometimes disappeared for days. Of course, she was punished when she returned. Sometimes, however, she fought back. Her anger at my father occasionally turned on me. Still, she was too afraid to stand up for him when she calmed, so she stayed. Our home became a place I hated. And so when my father told me she had returned to England to be with her family, I was not even upset. I had lost respect for her.”

  “I’m sure that was difficult. Did you ever hear from her?”

  “I never did, which just solidified how I felt about her. Even when I began to gain some notoriety, and I thought she might return to get something from me, she was silent. She walked out when I was ten and never looked back.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Natasha shook her head. “That isn’t necessary.”

  “So she was in England all this time? Is she still there?”

  “I began to wonder years ago. As I became famous and the pressure for interviews grew, my father wanted the money they would bring. We argued, and he would tell me, ‘You are stubborn and crazy like your mother! You will go crazy and we will lose everything!’

  “I decided to research. At first, it was difficult, but money talks and money silences. I managed to determine that she never left the country. I thought perhaps my father lied about where she went to spare me from looking for her as a girl. If she was an entire country away, it would be impossible. I realized once I discovered this that I would have to confront him to find out the truth. I knew he had lied, but I couldn’t find more answers on my own.

  “Did you think your father would give you the answers?”

  “I wasn’t sure, but I also had leverage. By this time he was dependent on me, and he was aging. If he lied or refused to give me answers, I could cut him off completely. He would be homeless with no resources.”