Chosen by a Killer

by Laurie Nave

  Once the morning’s busyness was over, Celia decided to work on her article about Natasha. The draft she had begun was already becoming unwieldy. She’d either have to end up cutting a lot of it or making it a series. Thankfully, now that she knew William and Tasha were friends, she was fairly certain he’d give her a good bit of latitude. There was so much more to Tasha’s story than the drama or the facts of the five murders. Much of Tasha's early life was tumultuous, and the models she watched made it clear: weakness was dangerous, and power and control were the only way to security. When you are weak, you have no say, and then you disappear. When you have power, you are seen, and you decide your own fate.

  Celia could relate, even though her upbringing had been less trauma and more typical dysfunction. Still, even Celia understood the principle behind her thinking. Emotion, trust, vulnerability...they all came with strings. And people who were led by them were easy targets. Celia had seen it in the lives of her friends and family. Even Marlene’s situation. The first time John tried to use his sad-sack routine with Celia, she would have seen right through it. Marlene was a smart woman, but she wore her heart on her sleeve too much. It was how John was able to manipulate her. Not that he wasn’t an ass who needed to pay for it.

  Even Bart had that weakness. He caught feelings, and he wouldn’t let go. Of course, he was in a whole different category. He thought he was entitled to Celia, that he owned her. No thanks. Celia had to wonder if the reason he was so stubborn was that she was the first woman who didn’t fall for his obsessive love-bombing. Whatever the reason, it had taught Celia a lesson. Relationships were liabilities. They were messy. She was better suited for hot men in pool halls.

  Celia’s office phone rang, startling her a bit. “Celia Brockwell.”

  “It’s Keith,” his voice was short. “Don’t you have your phone?”

  “I do, it’s right here,” Celia replied. “Oh, I had it on silent for our staff meeting and didn’t turn it back up. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been calling and texting for almost an hour. Your alarm went off, and I’m at your house right now.”

  “What? What happened? Is everything okay?”

  “I think you better get over here.”

  Celia hung up the office phone and gathered her purse and phone. “Gladys, something is going on at my house. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Oh no, I hope everything’s okay!” Gladys cried. “Let me know.”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  Celia punched the code into her phone and looked at her notifications. The alarm system had notified her several times, and she could see missed calls and texts from Keith. It looked like a back door had been opened. Could it have been a delivery? A break-in? Was it Bart? Celia drove faster, hoping her last thought wasn’t the case.

  Keith was waiting for her, and his expression wasn’t good. He motioned for her to follow him, and she could see that someone had pried the back door open. The camera above the door was smashed. Celia cursed and followed Keith inside. Then she stopped and gasped.

  There were flower petals all over her floor, leading from the back door toward her bedroom. She followed their path and saw a package on her bed. Police were inspecting it, and she asked them to step aside so she could see. There were some discarded roses on the bedding, but it was the item in the box that chilled Celia.

  It was her neighbor’s cat. It looked like the neck had been broken. There was no note or name, but Celia knew exactly who had left it there. She felt nauseous for a minute, and then anger took over, and she whirled around to face Keith.

  “I want to see the footage.”

  “Celia, there really isn’t a good view,” Keith said.

  “I don’t care! I want to see it.” She followed him into the living room, and they pulled it up on his tablet. A man wearing a ski mask walked to the back entrance. He held up the cat in front of his face, and then he threw something, probably a rock, at the camera. After that, there was only snow. Keith pulled up the view from inside the living room, but all they could see was someone’s back carrying the box and dropping flower petals. It was Bart; Celia knew it was Bart.

  “It’s Bart.”

  “I’m sure it is, but his face isn’t anywhere. It’ll be hard to prove it’s him.”

  “I know that’s who it is. No one else would do that.”

  “Could it possibly be your old boss? He’s pretty ticked, isn’t he?”

  “It’s too tall to be John. Not fat enough either. And this isn’t his style. He’d come closer to trying to steal a story than this. This is Bart.”

  An officer approached them then. “What makes you think it’s Bart?”

  “It’s his build and height. And no one else has been stalking me, following me, and trying to hack into my computer. He’s obsessed. And this clearly violates the order.”

  “What about your neighbors? Could any of them have seen something? Do any of them also know Bart?”

  “Not really,” Celia started to pace. “Wait, I’m pretty sure Lucille met him. Oh God, poor Lucille. She loved that cat. Has anyone talked to her yet?”

  “We tried, but no one is home right now. We’ll follow up. Maybe she noticed something.”

  “I can’t believe he was this bold.”

  “It’s not that unusual. He’s been escalating all along, Celia.” Keith said.

  “I’ve done everything I should. Changed my number, installed alarms, locked up my computer like Fort Knox. And he still got in!” Celia stopped pacing. “How the hell am I supposed to stop him?”

  “Okay, let’s just take it a step at a time. You’ll need to follow through with a report. Let the police do their job here thoroughly. And I can fix the door.” Keith looked around. “But Celia, you really don’t need to stay here.”

  “Where am I supposed to go? I’m not letting some psycho jackass run me out of my home!”

  Keith led her to the couch and sat her down before continuing. “I get it. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. But this isn’t a note or a bit of hacking. He broke into your house and left the neighbor’s cat. This guy is seriously unhinged.”

  “Then we fix the camera, I get a dog. I buy a gun. But I’m not leaving my house.”

  “Celia, all of those things are good ideas. But for tonight, at least for a few days, you don’t need to be here. Please.”

  “I wish I’d been here. I’d have killed him myself.”

  “Or he would have killed you. He’s desperate.”

  Celia pressed her fingers against the sides of her head. She knew Keith was right, and it made her angrier to admit it. She needed to stay away for a couple of days, at least until the door was fixed and the camera was replaced. But where would she stay? She wasn’t going to ask Marlene. Putting a pregnant woman in danger wasn’t happening. Celia wasn’t the kind of woman who had lots of female friends. She supposed she could rent a hotel room, but that seemed even less secure than her home.

  “You can stay with me. I have an extra room.” Keith offered.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Oh come on, Celia, we’re adults. I’m not going to try anything, and neither will you,” He grinned. “It’s just for a few days.”

  “Are you sure?” Celia stood up. “I really hate this guy.”

  “I know. Pack a bag, and then we can go to my place.”

  “No, I have to go back to the office. I’ll pack a bag and then come to your place after work. I’m sure you have to get to the prison.”

  Keith frowned. “I’d rather not leave you.”

  “There are police here. I’m fine. I have to get things done today. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Okay then,” Keith said. “Call when you get to your office.”

  Celia nodded and went to her bedroom to pack a few things. As she tossed her toiletries into a bag, she tried to stop fuming. Losing control wouldn’t help anything. And what if he was watching somewhere? She wasn’t going to leav
e the house in a panic. No one was going to make her panic, least of all some idiot with a bruised ego. Once she’d finished packing, Celia left her house, still being scoured by police, and drove back to work.

  “Everything okay?” Gladys asked when Celia walked by her desk.

  “Yeah, just a broken light,” Celia lied. “No biggie.” She closed her office door and sat at her desk, trying to refocus. She’d stay with Keith, she’d keep working, and she’d keep her eyes open. She’d been serious when she mentioned a gun to Keith. However, if she decided to get one, it wouldn’t be from a store. Celia would have to figure another way to get one. Because if Bart pulled something like that again, Celia would shoot to kill. And she’d do it when no one was around.

  By the end of the day, Celia had calmed some, and she was ready to head to Keith’s house and relax. It still irked her that she couldn’t go back home, but she knew she’d be on high alert all night if she was alone at her house. And there was too much to do to walk around sleep-deprived. She knew Keith would be true to his word and give her privacy, and she had to admit she had mixed feelings about that. She needed to blow off some steam and get some stress relief. However, she knew that would be stupid. Bart wasn’t going to make her stupid.

  Keith was cooking dinner when Celia arrived. He showed her to the bedroom, and when she had put her bags down, she walked back into the kitchen.

  “There’s beer in the fridge,” Keith said as he stirred vegetables.

  “Great,” Celia said. “You didn’t have to cook.”

  “It’s relaxing,” Keith replied. “You can clean up.”

  “Yippee,” Celia laughed. “What are we having?”

  “Sweet and sour pork with vegetable stir fry. Haven’t had Chinese in a while.”

  “You want me to do some fried rice?”

  “That would be great. I have some rice cooked already, in the fridge. Everything else should be in there too. The pans are to the left of the sink.”

  While Keith finished the vegetables and pork, Celia got the pan hot and then began making the rice. Keith’s kitchen was surprisingly well-stocked, and she added to the rice until it rivaled any takeout place. Within 20 minutes they were seated at his small table.

  “This is good,” Keith said, taking another bite of the rice.

  “Thanks, you’re a pretty good cook too. I don’t even mind cleaning up.”

  They chatted about nothing, and Celia could tell Keith was trying to keep her distracted. She helped herself to another beer, and when they were done, she shooed him out of the kitchen so that she could wash the dishes. He walked into his den, and Celia heard a ballgame on the television. Probably basketball, she thought. Keith loved the NBA.

  After she finished cleaning, they both watched the ballgame for a while, until Celia couldn’t sit still anymore. “I think I’m going to go to bed and try to get some sleep. Thanks for dinner and the extra room.”

  “Sure,” Keith didn’t look away from the television. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  Once Celia was settled in the bedroom, she opened her laptop and began looking through her email. Most of them were about articles or stories in various stages of completion. She had one email from Marlene asking her to come over for dinner. Keith had sent her a few emails about the fiasco at her home. Lucille had returned and was distraught over the death of her cat. Celia shook her head picturing the old woman in tears. Hopefully, she had seen something. Whether Keith liked it or not, Celia was going to try to go back and talk to the neighbor herself tomorrow.

  Chapter 26

  Celia was surprised to see Room 4 empty when Keith opened the door. Tasha was almost always waiting for her to begin their interviews. She looked at Keith, but he just shrugged and closed the door. Celia set up the recorded and read over some of her notes as the minutes ticked by. When it was ten past the hour, Celia began to wonder if Tasha would arrive at all.

  “I’m sorry to be late,” Tasha said as a guard walked her into the room. “I had some business to take care of before we met today.”

  “I hope everything is okay,” Celia said.

  “Oh yes, as fine as one can be on death row,” Tasha answered dryly. “I should ask about you.”

  How did Tasha always seem to know? “I’m doing fine, regardless of what you may have heard.”

  Tasha shook her head. “No, you are not, but I know that expression. I’ve had it myself more than once.”

  “The police are taking care of it. I appreciate your concern though.”

  “Let’s hope they can do their jobs.”

  “Yes, let’s.” Celia nodded. “I’m not turning the recorder on yet. I wanted to talk about what you said at the end of our last visit.”

  “About trusting you? I do.”

  “Thank you. But I meant the part about William. How did you find out he was your brother?”

  “He told me.”

  Celia sat back. “The recorder can stay off for this. As far as I’m concerned it’s not part of the article. When did he tell you?”

  “He’d known for a long time. I started to have doubts about my father. As you know, William didn’t like him. At all. And that made me curious too. It wasn’t all that strange for my father to dislike someone. But William seemed to like just about everyone. I wondered why they had such animosity between them.”

  Celia understood that. She’d never heard William express dislike for anyone, even John, except for his criticism of the former editor’s professionalism.

  “So how did he find out?” Celia asked.

  “William was adopted. When he was 18 years old, he started searching for his birth parents. It was hard. There was no internet, of course. But he knew his adoptive parents had been overseas when he was adopted. He finally found the catholic organization in Belfast where he was adopted.”

  “He was adopted in Belfast? But I thought Natasha’s mother was in England.”

  “She was, but her family had family and connections. So they sent her to Ireland to have the baby. William’s parents adopted him there, and when he was three years old, they moved to the United States. The same year I was born.”

  “So...was your father William’s father?”

  “We don’t know. I don’t think so.” Natasha sighed. “There was no father named on the birth certificate.”

  Celia shook her head. No wonder William felt so protective of Natasha.

  “But what about your mother? Does that mean he knew she was in an asylum? Why didn’t he tell you?

  “I was only a teenager when I met William. He worried about what my father would do if he told me. Not just to him, but to me or our mother. When I asked him to help me find her because of his connections, he told me the truth.”

  “I’m sure that was shocking.”.

  “It was. He was so afraid I would be angry. But I wasn’t. It explained why he and my father hated each other. And it confirmed my suspicions that my father was a liar.”

  Celia could tell by Natasha’s slouched posture and tight fists that the memories bothered her. It was time for a change of subject.

  “I wanted to talk some about the trial today if you don’t mind,” Celia picked up the recorder. “I know it isn’t the thrust of the story. But you were silent through most of it. You gave no comments. I’d like to know a little about what you were thinking and feeling during the process.”

  “Thank you,” Tasha smiled. “I can understand that. After all, I wouldn’t be here without the trial.”

  “Yes,” Celia said. “So let’s go back to the arrest. Were you initially just arrested for the murder of your father? That was what I understood.”

  “That is what I was Mirandized for, but it became clear that they were also looking into others. They had already searched the house and apartment. My father was the first domino, but the others were about to fall.”

  “And did that frighten you?”

  “I wouldn’t say frighten,” Tasha sat back in her chair. “But once I real
ized they had found a few strands of connection, mostly compiled by my father, I guess I was...resigned? They wanted to upset me. They wanted a confession spilled out of fear and emotion. That was something I would not give them.”

  “So they presented what they had, you made them work for it.”

  “I asked for an attorney once it became clear where they were going. Once my attorney was in play, I stayed as tight-lipped as possible. In the beginning, my primary concern was privacy. That privacy was very expensive.”

  Celia had wondered about that when the story was breaking. Tasha confirmed her suspicions. Money bought the silence. She wanted to ask how much, but she doubted Tasha would tell her. “So you circled the wagons, so to speak, and let the detectives figure it out without any help from you.”

  “That would be a good way to describe it. While they were scrambling and diving for evidence, I was talking with my attorney. He came highly recommended, and he was trustworthy. I told him what I believed would help him. He kept probing until I told him what he needed to know. He was very patient. I do not trust easily. He wanted to use trauma as a defense.”

  “Trauma?”

  “Yes, the trauma of being assaulted, the trauma of my childhood, not having a mother, the trauma of being used by my father. I didn’t think it would work. However, I was willing to talk to the experts he suggested.”

  Celia took a few notes and considered how to carefully word her next question. “Have you ever thought that your privacy and aloofness may have hurt you in the courtroom? That maybe you weren’t as sympathetic as a defendant because you had always been so guarded?”

  Tasha sat silently, and Celia wondered if she was offended. She didn’t seem angry, but it was hard to know what the actress was feeling. Celia knew from experience that an absence of emotion sometimes put people off and made a person seem cold. She’d gotten that reaction from others before when she didn’t react in the way they expected to a tragedy or injustice. Being pragmatic had its price.

  “I wonder sometimes if being more human, for lack of a better word, might have made a difference. People certainly do seem to rely on emotion, even when they are directed to only consider facts. Would the jury have acted differently if they had known me better? Who knows? It may have had the opposite effect. Neither you nor I are very warm and fuzzy, are we?”