Chosen by a Killer

by Laurie Nave

  “True,” Celia replied. She didn’t like it when Natasha compared them, but she’d grown used to it over the weeks. “I suppose we could spend time speculating, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference now.”

  “Exactly. The attorneys did their jobs, and the jury decided I was guilty. I let my closeness to my father make me stupid. In the end, I can only blame myself for their verdict.”

  “And, of course, you did it.”

  Natasha laughed. “Well, yes, there is that.” She shifted and leaned forward. “Now I want to ask you, what are you going to do about Bart?”

  “I’d rather not talk about that.”

  “I’ve been trying to figure out why you are so hesitant to take action. It’s clear that restraining orders and alarm systems aren’t going to stop him. If you can divorce yourself from what is acceptable, surely you can see what is logical.”

  “I know you think we are alike, and maybe we are in some ways,” Celia said. “But we are also different. I won’t deny I’ve wanted him dead. I admit that in the past I’ve been ruthless from time to time. But everyone has their line in the sand.”

  “And murder is yours,” Tasha said.

  “Yes, I guess it is.”

  “Even if it costs your own life?”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Tasha sighed and leaned back. “I’m going to miss our interviews.”

  “We still have a couple left. Need a cigarette? You usually ask.”

  Tasha nodded, and Celia handed her one after she lit it. “I don’t have friends. Well, there’s William, I suppose. But I consider you a friend. Someone I wish I had met before all this.”

  “I appreciate that. I know it’s a gift you don’t give many.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Tasha agreed. “But it’s a pretty useless gift at this point. It won’t keep me alive, and it won’t solve your problem.”

  “True, but still, friendship is valuable. My circle is small too. That is part of what makes them valuable.”

  “I won’t ask if I am part of that circle. But I like to think I am, even if it is in a strange way.” Tasha smiled. “I suppose friendship with a serial killer isn’t all that attractive.”

  “There’s more to you than that label.” Celia held up a hand when Tasha shook her head. “No, it’s true. I admit when I started this process, I thought of it as an opportunity to get the story no one had. But I think the media did you a disservice, reducing you to a killer ice queen. You matter to people. You mattered to your mother, you matter to William, I’m sure you mattered to the couple you saw at the diner every week. And even though he was a controlling ass at times, I have no doubt you mattered to your father.”

  For the second time, Natasha reached across the table to grasp Celia’s hand. “Thank you.” Celia thought she saw tears, but Natasha blinked, and they were gone. “I do have one request.”

  “What is it?”

  “Make me another cake before we finish our interviews?”

  Celia laughed. “Of course.”

  The two women typically talked until Keith knocked, but today it seemed as if there was nothing more to talk about, at least for now. Tasha seemed quiet. Celia gathered her things, stood, and knocked on the door. Keith opened it, a little surprised.

  “I think we’re done for today,” Celia said.

  “Sure thing,” Keith nodded.

  “I’ll see you next week, Natasha.”

  “I look forward to it, Celia.”

  “Everything okay?” Keith asked as they walked down the hall.

  “I think so. Something is on Natasha’s mind.”

  “There’s less than a month until her execution, and her attorney isn’t having any luck with last-minute measures, I don’t think.”

  “It’s strange. She’s so controlled and so determined to win. But she seems resigned to the execution. I would have thought she’d fight it until the end.”

  “Never let them see fear,” Keith said.

  “What?”

  “I think Tasha would rather not let them rattle her. That’s her way of winning.”

  “She did say something like that a few weeks ago. I guess it makes sense. But I don’t think I could just give up.”

  Keith shrugged. “She’s been here at least a decade. Most of that time she’s had almost no contact with anyone but guards, her attorney, and you. Maybe she’s tired of it.”

  Keith walked her to her car, and then he watched her drive away. Celia felt unsettled. Was it Tasha’s demeanor, the business with Bart, or something else? Maybe she was going to miss Natasha. The actress was right; being friends with a serial killer was odd. However, it was the most up-close Celia had been with someone who seemed as dispassionate as herself. As uncomfortable as comparing the two of them made her, it was also educational. Besides, being unemotional didn’t make someone a murderer. Natasha dealt with her threats by killing them off. Celia had never done that.

  After work, Celia decided to go by her house to check on things. There was still tape on her front door. She pulled into the drive, and as she stepped out of her car, Lucille came around from the back of her house.

  “Oh, Celia, dear, I’m so glad you’re okay.” Lucille took Celia’s hand. “It’s terrible, just terrible.”

  “I’m so sorry about your cat,” Celia replied.

  Lucille wiped away a few tears. “Poor Jerry. He was old, but he was still kicking. Who would do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know,” Celia lied. “I’m glad you weren’t here when it happened.”

  “I wish I had been. I noticed you hadn’t been back. Are you staying with your friend?”

  “You mean Keith, the man who put in my alarm system?”

  “No, that other fellow, the handsome one I met when you came home a while back. Brent? Brett?”

  “Bart,” Celia replied. “No, we stopped seeing each other.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I noticed he’d been by a time or two.”

  Celia felt a chill. “When was that?”

  Lucille put a finger to her chin and thought. “Well, I saw him in a car once or twice. He didn’t stop. And then last week he came by while I was out with Jerry. I waved, but I guess he didn’t see me.”

  “Did you tell the police about that?”

  “Well no,” Lucille said, looking puzzled. “Should I have? Surely he didn’t do this!”

  “Lucille, we need to call them. Bart wasn’t very happy when we broke up. I think they need to know.”

  “Oh my goodness!” Lucille cried. “Oh my goodness! I didn’t even think of it when I saw him. I didn’t know.”

  “That’s okay, you didn’t know. How could you? Can we go inside your house and call them?”

  “Yes, of course,” Lucille nodded. “Come in and I’ll make tea as well.”

  The police came by about 10 minutes after Lucille called. Lucille held Celia’s hand while she recounted seeing Bart in his car and outside the house over the past couple of weeks. They showed her pictures, and she confirmed that he was the man she saw. They thanked her, and then one of the officers walked Celia to her car.

  “It’s good you talked to her,” he said. “This points to him. And since it violates the restraining order, we can pick him up. He isn’t supposed to be on your property at all.”

  “Thank God,” Celia said. “Maybe getting arrested will send him the message.”

  “Hopefully,” the officer said. “Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t. After tomorrow you should be able to go back home.”

  Celia thanked him and drove toward Keith’s house. Thank goodness she’d decided to befriend her neighbor. Lucille’s account gave the police what they needed. It was one thing for the police to talk with him, but being arrested would surely deter Bart from going further. He was an attorney; he didn’t need legal trouble. For the first time since the stalking had begun, Celia felt certain it might actually be over.

  Chapter 27

  Celia had baked Tasha
her promised cake, and she was cleaning the kitchen counter when her phone rang.

  “Collect call from Baylor Women’s Correctional Facility for Celia Bronlov from an inmate. Do you accept the charges?”

  “Yes,” Celia answered, dropping the dishtowel she’d been using and sitting at the table.

  “Is this Celia?”

  “Natasha? I didn’t think you could make calls.”

  “I can’t. Thanks to our friend who bent the rules, I have just a few minutes. There is information you need.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “Your Bart is a financial attorney, yes?”

  “Yes,” Celia sat a bit straighter.

  “I have limited contact with others, but I need you to know that he attempted to visit a prisoner today. Another woman on death row.”

  “What? Who? When was this?”

  “It was yesterday. It was caught because she told the officer he was not her attorney. I don’t know how he thought he could fool someone. I don’t know how he knew who to try to visit. But I do know that he was trying to visit her.”

  Celia sighed and took the phone off speaker. “Oh my god.”

  “I don’t have long. But you needed to know. I was not sure Keith would tell you.”

  “He probably would have.”

  “Yes, but he would not tell you this. If you want help, I will help you. Men like this Bart must be dealt with.”

  “I appreciate that. I need to call Keith. I probably need to make sure the police know as well.”

  “I can’t talk more. But I knew you would want to know.” Tasha hung up the phone.

  Celia sat quietly for a moment, trying to decide what to process first. A death row inmate had just called her on the phone. Bart tried to access the prison. A murderer just offered to help her. She had to chuckle. This is why I don’t do drama and emotional stories. Whatever Celia decided to do, it wouldn’t be done tonight, she thought. So she walked back into the kitchen and finished the frosting. She’d let the cake cool overnight and frost it in the morning before she went to work.

  At 1:00 pm, Celia was walking down the prison hallway to Room 4 for the last time, carrying a homemade cake. The clerk had allowed her to bring paper plates this time, along with two plastic spoons, providing she returned the spoons. Keith made it clear he expected a large piece of the cake after her interview, and Celia promised he could have whatever was left over after the clerk had a slice. This time when he opened the door, Natasha was waiting, and she clapped when she saw the cake.

  “I was hoping you remembered. I didn’t want to miss my last dessert.”

  “Well that’s certainly morbid,” Celia replied. She set up her recorder and then cut a piece of cake for the actress.

  “This time you must have a piece too. I will not eat alone today.”

  “Okay, you twisted my arm,” Celia laughed. “I confess red velvet is my favorite.”

  “And appropriately macabre, don’t you think?”

  Celia shook her head as she took a bite of the cake. She knew Tasha was stoic, but Celia wasn’t sure she was truly as flippant as she tried to appear. This was their last interview. She had less than two weeks to live, barring a last-minute reprieve, which was not likely to come. However, she’d let the actress play her part. They both enjoyed the cake in silence.

  “So what is today’s topic?” Natasha asked as she finished her last bite.

  “Honestly, I didn’t make a plan. Though I would like to know what you are thinking. I’d like to know if, knowing what you know now, you would have done anything differently.”

  “Ah, yes, deathbed regrets.”

  “Not quite that trite. Just some last assessments of your situation, I guess. What do you want readers to know?”

  Tasha slowly licked the last of the icing off the spoon and slid the empty plate to Celia. “The readers will conclude what they will conclude. However, your question about what I would do differently is interesting. It’s something I have considered many times over the last decade.

  “I don’t regret killing any of them, not really. But I do wish I had given more thought to my father. I could have avoided that mistake had I not allowed anger to drive me. I could have made him pay in other ways. Taking action without thinking things through is foolish. That is the main reason I am here.”

  “So you believe they deserved to die?”

  “That is a moral judgment, which I didn’t expect of you,” Tasha said. “What do any of us deserve or not deserve? Did I deserve to be at risk? Did I deserve to have my privacy invaded, to be assaulted? Actions have consequences. Tom’s actions in high school ended with the consequences in the parking garage. When Julian betrayed me and his ethics, he had to know there would be consequences. And even me. When I killed my father out of anger, I chose these consequences. I knew it when I was arrested, and I chose to control the way I responded.”

  “Surely it isn’t that simple,” Celia countered.

  “Why not? Isn’t that how you approach your stories? A CEO is deceptive and unethical. It is logical that he should suffer the consequences.”

  “I’m not talking about cause and effect. I’m talking about the pragmatic way you appear to be reacting. If these men truly deserved to die, then doesn’t being put to death over it make you angry? Doesn’t it seem unjust? I guess I expect more...fight? Rebellion? Something.”

  Natasha smiled. “For most of my life, others wanted something from me. I wanted something from them. This is how we live. I wanted the things I wanted, so I did what I needed to do. I gave others, including my own father, what they wanted when it benefitted me. And when I didn’t want to give, I withheld. The public wanted to know things about me that were none of their business, so I was silent. The police wanted to know why, they wanted me to incriminate myself, so I was silent. When there was no recourse left, they wanted to watch me crumble and protest and panic. So I was silent. I may die, and my story will be told. But it will be told on my terms, on my timeline, and it will be told by the person I chose.”

  Celia took notes as Tasha watched. “So you made the choices you could make. You took your power by not giving them any.”

  “Exactly. My choices were my power.”

  Celia nodded, making more notes.

  “And now I must ask you something.” Tasha waited until Celia looked up to continue. “I would like for you to be here next week.”

  The request didn’t surprise Celia. For whatever reason, Natasha considered her a friend. Celia had never attended an execution, and it wasn’t something she had ever wanted to do. However, she had been thinking about it since her first interview with Tasha. Lethal injection was said to be virtually painless, though Celia doubted that. She would have no interest in watching an electrocution.

  “I thought you might ask,” Celia said. “And yes, if it is important to you, I will be there.”

  “Thank you. I am not typically sentimental. But I have trusted you with many things. I would like to have you there.”

  “I understand.”

  “Now for my other question. I need to know you will take some sort of action to stay safe, even if it is extreme.”

  “I am taking every precaution,” Celia began.

  “I think we both know that isn’t enough. I have told you I would help you if you would like my help.”

  “How can you help me? There is nothing you can do from in here.”

  “I have some friends. Not many, but a few. They would help you if I asked them. I know you don’t think you can take drastic action. I assure you that you can. You are at least as strong as I am.”

  Celia knew what Natasha meant. And it wasn’t as if Celia wasn’t considering it. It was simple for Natasha. She had grown up in a cutthroat world with a father who used violence. Celia understood competition, and she’d bent the rules to get where she was. But she wasn’t like Natasha. It wasn’t about morality or compassion or emotion. Celia wasn’t a killer.

  “I understand w
hat you’re trying to do. What you think I should do. And I confess, it would be a solution. It’s one I’ve thought about before. But I can’t. That is one line I can’t cross. Even to save myself.”

  Natasha sighed. “I think I knew that. We are the same, but we are different. You aren’t ready. Your own preservation isn’t enough.” She smiled again. “In that case, I would like more cake.”

  Celia laughed and cut another slice. They sat in comfortable silence until Keith knocked at the door. Celia gathered her things and stood. She wasn’t sure what to say. What does someone say to a convicted killer who has become a strange type of friend? Especially with a corrections officer listening. “I’ll see you next week, Natasha.”

  “Thank you,” Natasha said. “Thank you for the company and conversation. I am glad to know you will handle my story with care. I want to find some way to repay you for that.”

  “You can repay me by asking your attorney to find some way to intervene before next Friday.”

  Natasha chuckled. “Oh, he’s already trying.”

  “Good,” Celia said.

  “You know, unless the governor steps in, nothing her lawyer does will help,” Keith said as they walked side by side.

  “I know, but it’s just too strange. She’s so calm about the whole thing.”

  Keith shrugged. “It’s her way of coping.”

  “I guess so.”

  The clerk was ready with a plate when they got to the reception area. Celia laughed as she cut a piece and Keith protested it was too big. The receptionist scolded him, called him greedy, and then began eating. There was still 2/3 of a cake on the platter, and Celia called him greedy as well.

  William had called during the interview, so once Celia started driving back toward the office, she returned his call.

  “How does she seem?” William asked.

  “She’s calm, poised, and pragmatic as always.”