by Laurie Nave
“And were you prepared to do that?”
Natasha crushed the cigarette she was smoking and pulled out another. “Of course,” she said, leaning forward for a light. “Even though my mother had problems, she was still my mother. Telling me she had fled to England benefited him. If that was a lie, she might have remained in my life. He removed my choice. And so I confronted him with what I knew and demanded the truth.”
Celia leaned forward slightly. However, Natasha crushed her cigarette without taking a drag and sat back in her chair. Celia was used to dramatic pauses or thoughtful silence, but this was different. For the first time since the interviews had begun, the actress looked troubled. It was strange considering sharing the details of four murders didn’t seem to trouble her at all. Celia sat back as well, trying not to speculate. She was determined not to push.
Finally, Natasha took another cigarette and leaned forward again for a light. She pointed it at Celia. “You told me last week that I had somehow gotten you to talk too much during our interviews. You have done the same to me. This is not something I prefer to discuss. It is no one’s business. I want no one’s pity.”
Celia took a calculated risk. “Natasha, I will not pressure you to continue; however, you should know that I do not pity you.”
It was quiet, and Natasha studied the reporter carefully. After a few minutes, she smiled and placed the burning cigarette in her mouth. “I know,” she said, blowing a slow stream of smoke. “I knew you wouldn’t. That is why I approached you. I saw our similarities.” She held up her hand before Celia could interrupt. “So I will continue. But I ask that you not record this. We can record my account of my father’s murder. But not the information about my mother.”
In any other situation, Celia would have tried to negotiate. She would have pushed her subject to allow her to record. She might have even pretended to put away the recorder, leaving it on secretly, or just made a special note to remember so that she could put it in the story anyway. In this case, she turned off the recorder and put away her notebook. Celia wouldn’t be taking notes, and this would not be part of her story.
“I wondered at times if my father had been unfaithful. I have learned that certain men need admiration and need a challenge. My mother provided neither. We had a variety of housekeepers and other staff in our home, and they were usually attractive.
“My father was unfaithful, it turns out, but not just with these women. He visited prostitutes as well. High-class ones at first I think, then the dirtier ones you see on the streets.
“When my mother became erratic and her behavior became volatile, he took her to a doctor.” Natasha looked out the small window. “She had syphilis. The doctor prescribed medication for both of them, but my mother’s brain was already damaged. Instead of taking responsibility for her health and sanity, my father put her in an institution across the country. Or rather, he had one of his shady friends do so.”
“Oh my God.” Celia could barely speak. “Did he tell you where? Did you—“
“She died when I was twenty. She spent nine years alone in an institution and then slit her wrists.”
Celia sat back in her chair and watched Natasha. She was angry at her father’s deceit. Anyone would have been angry. To discover her mother had been in the country, in an institution, and had committed suicide... It would devastatingly shake a person. Celia’s eyes were narrow, but she was calm.
“How did you find out all of this? I know you researched, but... Did you have help?”
“I did. I got help from someone I learned I could trust. I realize now that I allowed my anger at my father to make me foolish.”
“What do you mean?” Celia could tell Natasha didn’t want to betray her source.
“There were several ways I could have responded to his lies. I could have cut him out of my life. I could have made him suffer financially. Killing him was irrational and stupid, and I am rarely stupid.”
The familiar knock and the guard’s presence signaled that the interview was over. Celia inwardly cursed, but Natasha just stood calmly and tossed her cigarette onto the floor before stepping on it. As always, a guard removed her from the room, and Keith escorted Celia back down the hallway.
Celia was distracted as she walked to her car. She didn’t see the note on her windshield until she had already fastened her seatbelt. Annoyed, she got out of the car and retrieved it, cursing when she saw the handwriting. Bart had left her a note at the prison. It was infuriating. He had written the time at the top: 1:32. He’d left it right in the middle of her interview, and because she was deep inside the prison, he had technically been 500 feet away from her, as the RO advised. The police would do nothing. Again.
They had advised her to keep all correspondence, so Celia placed the note in her purse, though she didn’t see how it would help. It was just one more impassioned plea from Bart asking her to call him or meet him. Looking around, she wondered if he was watching. How did he even get into the lot, and how did he know she would be there? She hadn’t even told him about the interviews. There was no way he could know she was interviewing Natasha, could he? The only person who knew outside the prison was John, and he had no idea she had been dating Bart. He didn’t even know Bart as far as Celia knew.
A notification went off on Celia’s phone, and she checked it. It was reminding her of a 3:00 appointment. It hit her as she swiped to dismiss. The calendar app. She had it on her laptop, and it synced to her phone. Bart had been in her home. Had he hacked her laptop somehow? Celia was careful to have security in place and anti-virus and anti-malware protection. She’d even been known to use a VPN. But not always. She immediately locked the doors of her car and called Keith. She knew it would go to voicemail, but she needed his help. He knew how to check to see if her technology had been compromised.
Keith called her back less than ten minutes later. “Celia, what’s up?”
“I hate to be a pest, but I may have a problem.”
“What’s going on?”
“When I left the prison, there was a note on my windshield. It was from Bart.”
“What the hell? How did he even know you were here?”
“I wasn’t sure until I got a notification from my calendar app. He was in my house at least once. I think he might have tried to hack me. I have no idea if he did or how far he got.”
“I’ll be over right after work. I get off at 7:00. Or I can try to have someone cover –“
“No, no don’t do that. I’m not going to panic. But if you could come by and check, that would be great. I’m sorry you keep getting sucked in.”
“Don’t even worry about that. I’m glad to help.” Keith laughed. “Besides, Natasha might murder me if I don’t make sure you’re safe.”
“I highly doubt that,” Celia chuckled.
“I mean it. She’s been fascinated with you for years. I wasn’t a bit surprised when she wanted you to be the one who interviewed her.”
Celia wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she ignored it. “Well, I really appreciate this. I’ll be home before 7:00, so I’ll be there before you arrive.”
“See you then. Watch your back in the meantime. I mean it.”
“I will, thanks.” Celia ended the call and looked in her rearview mirror. No one was following her, and she felt a little sheepish. Bart hadn’t actually confronted her. He’d left a note on her empty car when she wasn’t around. He wasn’t violating the order, just skirting its limits. Still, Celia would feel better once Keith had given her computer and phone a once-over.
At 7:15, Keith knocked at her door. She let him in and showed him where to find her laptop. Before he took a look, he checked her router, the wall behind her desk for anything that didn’t belong, like Ethernet or a fiber optic cable. He explained that worst-case scenario, he might even be streaming from her webcam. Celia had to sit down when she heard that. The idea of Bart watching her made her instinctively cover herself.
“You’re okay,” Keith finally sa
id. “He hasn’t wired into your place. That’s a good thing. Let me check your laptop and phone. I promise not to look at anything weird.”
Celia laughed. “Weird? What do you think I do online?”
“I don’t know, maybe nothing,” He grinned. “Maybe your write steamy crap novels under a pen name. I don’t judge.”
Celia punched him and then went to the kitchen to make them both a drink. She played on her phone while he went over her laptop and tablet, and then she handed him her phone. He was engrossed in his search, so she decided to watch a little TV.
“So, you should be okay now.”
“Now?” Celia asked. “You mean I wasn’t?”
“It could have been worse. He didn’t get full access. But He did manage to get to your appointments and a few other things. No email or other access though. I plugged the holes and upgraded your security.”
The idea that Bart had been able to invade any of Celia’s privacy made her angry. Keith seemed relieved it wasn’t worse, but all Celia could imagine was Bart’s head on a stake. “That bastard.”
“That’s an understatement. I printed out the documentation, and I’ll be glad to make a report personally. This is absolutely a violation of the order. Not to mention a few other things. If it were me, I’d push this. They need to pick him up and put the fear in him.”
“Oh, I’ll be reporting it for sure. I’m tired of this. What’s his problem anyway? It’s not like I'm the only woman in the city.”
“Well, you are a cut above most,” Keith smiled. “But guys like him, they get fixated. They’re narcissistic and unstable, and they convince themselves it’s a relationship and that you are just playing coy.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “But it won’t be pretty when he finally realizes your rejection is real. You need to be careful.”
“How do you know so much about this?”
Keith turned and sat on the sofa. He put his elbows on his knees and sighed. “I was the one who found my sister after her ex broke her jaw.”
“Oh my god!” Celia sat beside him. “That’s awful!”
“Yeah, it was about 7 years ago. He was always a jerk, but when she broke up with him, he wouldn’t accept it. He pulled some of the crap Bart has. Suzie wouldn’t report it. She thought she could reason with him. After he beat her up, she finally had him charged and got an order.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Yeah, he violated it a couple of times, so big brother had to have a talk with him.”
“A talk,” Celia said, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, he didn’t talk for a while after that. Hard to talk with your lip busted and a couple of teeth gone.”
“Dang, I'm glad you have my back.”
“He got really angry when he couldn’t get to Suzie, so he went after another girl. Raped her.”
“Good God, what happened?”
“She pressed charges, and my sister testified as well thanks to his crappy attorney opening the door. He’s in prison. Won’t get out anytime soon with his temper.”
Celia sat in silence, thinking about Keith’s sister and imagining Bart with a few fewer teeth. “You’re a good man, Keith. You know that?” She placed her hand on his.
“Why thank you, ma’am,” Keith replied in an exaggerated drawl. He placed his other hand on hers, and they sat that way for a while. Finally, Keith stood. “Well, I better go. You’re good now, and I need to head home.”
Celia was a little disappointed. “Okay then. Hey, wanna grab dinner Saturday? I’ll buy.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Keith replied.
“Hey, what are friends for?”
He cocked his head a bit and then smiled. “Sure, sounds good, Just call me.”
Once Keith had left, Celia went to her laptop to type up the notes from her interview with Natasha. Even though Keith assured her it was fine now, she felt a bit naked booting it up. Bart had seen inside her life in a way that she never intended. She felt stupid and violated. And angrier than she had been in a long time. One way or another, Bart was going to need to go away. And sitting there as she checked her email, Celia didn’t much care what it took.
Chapter 21
Celia was working, but in the back of her mind, something was bothering her. She’d had several meetings with her new boss, and he had never mentioned her interviews with Natasha. According to John, he knew she was talking with the actress; however, William had never asked a single question. It was going to be a big story. Celia thought he would at least be a little curious. Maybe he was waiting for her to mention it. Did John imply she was keeping it a secret? Was William testing her to see if she would bring it up during their meetings? Whatever was going on, it made Celia uncomfortable. She decided that when they met later in the day, she was going to talk with him about the story. She’d just have to hope he didn’t want to leak it the way John had.
Meanwhile, Natasha’s revelation about her mother still had Celia stunned. No matter how controlling Mr. Bronlov had been, Celia couldn’t believe he would hide Natasha’s mother away and lie about it. Was his obsession over image really that insidious? The more she learned about Tasha’s father, the easier it was to see why Tasha was so calculating. With a Machiavellian father and no access to her mother, all Tasha saw was manipulation and self-interest. It wasn’t the theme of Celia’s article; however, she couldn’t help wondering how the actress’s killer mind had been created. If someone had known both Tasha and Celia growing up, they would have deemed them very much alike. But Celia didn’t plot murders. Maybe she pushed a little too hard to get ahead, but she never killed anyone.
Celia’s cell phone rang, and when she looked at the screen, she was relieved to see that it was Marlene. Shaking her head, she wondered how long she would have the moment of stiffening her spine just in case it was Bart.
“Marlene, good to hear from you. I haven’t had a chance to call you since the party. It was great, by the way, and I am so happy for your two.”
“Thanks, Celia,” Marlene responded. “We’re pretty excited. Dave keeps wanting to buy pink, and I keep telling him not to. But the truth is, I kind of want to go pink-crazy.”
“Celia laughed. “I say go for it. No shame in your baby girl being pretty in pink.”
“Thanks,” Marlene chuckled. “I actually wanted to talk to you if you have a few minutes.”
Marlene’s change in tone told Celia it was more serious than baby colors. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Have you...” Marlene hesitated. “Have you heard anything from John since he left?”
“Oh, he called me once. Tried to get into my head. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“I wonder if he’s in town or if he’s moved on.”
“I’m not sure. I’m sure he still has his cell phone if you need to talk to him.”
“Oh, I don’t want to talk to him.”
After sitting in silence, Celia asked, “Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”
“Marlene, something is going on, I can tell. You said something at the party that made me wonder too. Did John do something?”
“Has your new boss said anything to you about why John left?”
“At the first staff meeting, he made some vague statements about new opportunities. But he wasn’t specific. And I get the idea he isn’t John’s biggest fan.”
Marlene laughed. “No, he’s really not. John kept him from buying things up a few years ago. I’m not sure how he succeeded this time.”
Celia shook her head. “I never understood John’s control issues. Being a part of Multicorp can only be good for everyone.”
“Yeah, but being part of a big company like that also brings more scrutiny.”
“What do you mean?”
Marlene cleared her throat. “Let’s just say that it was easier for John to get away with some things with no one was looking over his shoulder.”
“Okay Marlene,” Celia said. “Now you have to tell me
what is going on.”
“I can’t say much. But I would like to talk. I just want to make sure none of this will blow back on Dave and me.”
Celia stood and closed her door. “What do you mean? What could blow back on you?”
“Look, I can’t talk right now. I have to get to the restaurant. But are you interested in a late dinner?”
“Yeah, I can swing that. Are you okay in the meantime?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I just want to make sure all my bases are covered.”
“Well, I’ll come to the restaurant at closing then. 10:00?”
“Great. I’ll save some of your favorite.”
“Sounds good. Let me know if anything changes.”
After they exchanged goodbyes, Celia sat back in her chair and thought about John. Where was he, she wondered. And what in the world was Marlene worried about? She and John had seemed to get along fine. Looking back, she had resigned a little unexpectedly, but then again, Celia knew she and Dave had been planning a restaurant. Now, however, Celia wondered if there was more to the story. If John had a grudge, it certainly wouldn’t be too surprising if he looked for a scapegoat. Shaking her head, Celia redirected her thinking. There was no use speculating between now and 10:00. Besides, she needed to get some work done.
One of the things Celia did after taking over as editor-in-chief was to create a content calendar that could be accessed by the entire staff. It was set up so that each writer could add to or update the status of their own projects, but only she could change the master calendar. John had tried the old-fashioned paper calendar method, and it had been very inefficient, not to mention confusing. It was as if he didn’t trust some of the writers to manage their projects. As far as Celia was concerned, a writer who couldn’t be trusted didn’t need to be a writer. So she gave them more ownership of their work, and it cleared her plate for other things. She was hoping William would feel the same way.
At 2:00 that afternoon, William walked into her office and cracked the door. She noticed he rarely fully shut the door when meeting with her or others. Maybe it was a precaution. At any rate, they exchanged the normal small talk, and then William pulled out his tablet and became businesslike.
