Chosen by a Killer

by Laurie Nave

“I don’t usually ask about the interviews, I know. But before she was an interview subject, she was my friend. She doesn’t want me to visit. She definitely doesn’t want me there next week.”

  “I told her I would be there. She asked.” Celia hesitated. “I’m not sure I’ll feel comfortable writing about that.”

  “I understand. If it was Charles Manson, maybe. But, profession aside, I don’t know that I want my friend’s death detailed for the voyeurs.”

  “I understand, William. You care about her.” Celia wondered if Natasha had told him that Celia knew their secret. She wasn’t going to ask. “Some things should be kept private.”

  “Thank you,” William said hoarsely.

  An alert indicated that Celia had another call. She recognized the number of the police department. “I’m getting another call I need to take. I’ll talk to you later this afternoon.” She swiped to answer the call. “This is Celia Brockwell.”

  “Yes, Ms. Brockwell. It’s Officer Stanfield. I wanted to let you know that Bart Vandiver is out.”

  “Yeah, I figured. I’ll be careful. Is anyone on him?”

  “We’re going to be watching. Are you back in your house?”

  “I’ll be going back tonight.”

  “I don’t suppose I could talk you out of that.”

  “No, you, can’t. I’m not letting him disrupt my life.”

  “Well, just be vigilant. Make sure that system is on. Do you have any time to come by the station? There are a few things we’ve uncovered, and I’d like to talk to you again.”

  “Um, I don’t have anything for a couple of hours. Is now okay? It’ll be about 20 minutes.”

  “That’ll work.”

  Celia ended the call. What had they found? Bart was out, so she’d have to watch her back. She knew they wouldn’t hold him long. He’d make bail, which wasn’t very high, and he would either back off or not back off. Celia hoped it was the latter. She thought about Tasha and her advice. Even though Celia had accepted that she and Tasha shared a common...dispassionate rationality, murder was an entirely different thing from breaking a few rules or stepping on a few toes to get ahead. Bart wasn’t worth the risk.

  “Thanks for coming in,” Walt Stanfield shook her hand, and they both sat. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine. Hoping an arrest has knocked some sanity into him.”

  “Me too. What do you know about his first wife?”

  The question surprised Celia. “Not much. I know they were married for five years. She had a car accident. He apparently is still close to her family.”

  “Actually, he’s not. They don’t think too much of him, but he tends to show up at public events. Likes to keep an eye on them.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “Indeed. And I got an accident report. It’s a little strange.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was driving a curvy road at night. But there weren’t really a lot of skid marks. No real evidence, but you can’t rule out car tampering just reading the report.”

  “No one investigated?”

  “At the time, it seemed clear, I guess. Bart seemed devastated. That road was known for accidents. Nobody really pushed. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have either. But looking at it in light of his stalking...”

  “It makes you wonder. Yeah, I get it. How was their marriage?”

  “No idea. But I’m going to try to find out. If my gut is right, you need to be very careful.”

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks for filling me in.”

  He nodded. “I know Keith has been helping you out. I really wish you’d stay with him a little while longer.”

  “I can’t do that. I’m not going to hide in someone else’s house.”

  “Okay then. Just be aware of your surroundings at all times. Call if you even think something is off.”

  “I will.”

  Celia drove back to her office, her mind spinning a bit. What the hell had she gotten into when she agreed to go out with Bart? Were there red flags she had missed? She really couldn’t think of any. He seemed normal, charming if a little overly affectionate. His connection with his former wife’s family had seemed endearing. Now it just seemed creepy. Hoping he murdered her was a bit morbid, but Celia was hoping that was the case and that Stanfield found evidence to support it. The reality was that Bart would never stay behind bars for stalking. But he would for murder.

  It occurred to her that her father might know more details about the accident, so Celia called him, not knowing whether he was still in the city or not.

  “Hello. Can I help you?”

  “It’s Celia.”

  “Oh! I didn’t recognize this number. It’s good to hear from you.”

  “I changed it. Sorry I didn’t let you know.”

  “Did you change it -”

  “Because of Bart, yes. Look, we may have a way of getting him. Apparently, Judith’s family isn’t alone in wondering about her accident.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, but I need to talk to you again. Are you still in town?”

  “I’ll be here three more days. How about dinner?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I have to meet a couple of clients tonight, but we could meet tomorrow night if that works for you.”

  “Perfect. There’s a place my friend owns. I’ll text you the address. 7:00?”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  Celia ended the call and smiled. Between the police, Stewart, and her special folder, there was finally a light at the end of the crazy tunnel. She headed to Keith’s house feeling very hopeful.

  Chapter 28

  Celia had hoped to get away from Keith’s house before dark, but he had grilled salmon, so she couldn’t resist staying for dinner. By the time they had eaten and cleaned things up, it was after 8:00. She thanked him again for his hospitality and headed to her house, glad that she’d be sleeping in her own bed again.

  When she was about halfway home, Celia noticed a car following her a little too closely. Ugh, she hated tailgaters. After a mile or two, she got tired of being blinded by the driver’s halogen lights, and she lightly tapped her brakes, hoping they would back off a bit. It worked, and she was glad to be rid of the blinding light. However, then Celia noticed the car, a nondescript sedan, made every turn she made.

  Was it Bart? It couldn’t be, could it? He drove a Mercedes, and he enjoyed the status of nice things. He wouldn’t own a car like the one behind her. But she knew she wasn’t imagining being followed. She’d made too many turns for it to be a coincidence. Celia decided that if someone was going to follow her, they’d be following her to the police station. She adjusted her route accordingly.

  When she was a few blocks away from the station, the sedan moved to the right lane; apparently, he had realized where Celia was going. The light turned yellow and then red, and they both stopped. Celia wanted to stare straight ahead, but she couldn’t resist a glance to her right.

  It was Bart. He was staring straight ahead, but he seemed to sense it when Celia looked at him, and he turned his head. He smiled and waved. Celia quickly dug through her purse to grab her camera so that she could take a photo. But as she held it up to take Bart’s picture, he turned right onto another street.

  “Psycho,” Celia said, gunning her engine when the light turned green. She drove to the station, walked inside, and asked for Walt. Within a couple of minutes, he was out front to greet her.

  “Ms. Brockwell, is everything okay?”

  “Bart tried to follow me home. Once I realized I was being followed, I just drove here.”

  “Why don’t you come on back, and I’ll take your statement.”

  They walked back to Walt’s desk, and Celia sat in a folding chair.

  “So tell me exactly what happened. Start at the beginning.”

  “Well,” Celia began. “I left Keith’s place a little after 8:00. I was planning to go back home to stay.”

  “When did you notice some
one behind you?”

  “I guess a couple of miles from Keith’s. A car started tailgating me, and he had those awful headlights.”

  “Halogen, yeah. People complain about those all the time.”

  “At first, I just thought it was some jerk driver. I tapped my brakes a little, and he put some space between us.”

  “You know,” Walt smiled. “You’re really not supposed to do that. It’s a good way to get read-ended.”

  “Yeah, I know. I was annoyed.”

  “What did the car look like?”

  “It was a sedan. That champagne color. I think it was a Camry? Or it might have been an Altima.”

  He took some notes. “So when did you realize it was Bart?”

  “Well, he figured out where I was headed, and he moved into the right lane. We both got stopped at the same red light. I looked over, and he looked at me and smiled. The bastard waved at me.”

  “Did he try to say anything?”

  “No. I tried to get my phone out to take a picture, but he turned right before I could get one.”

  Officer Stanfield kept writing. “We’ve got some traffic cameras at intersections. We should be able to find the two of you. I’ll have a tech take a look.” He looked up and frowned.

  “But?” Celia said.

  “We might be able to get him behind you and beside you. But, I mean, it’s the city, and you both live here. He could claim you just ended up at the same red light.”

  “I know he followed me, probably all the way from Keith’s.” Celia protested. But she knew Walt was right. Unless other people saw the car, there would be no way to prove anything. He could claim it was a coincidence.

  “I’ll definitely get as much traffic footage as I can. Maybe we can at least track him following you in the city.”

  “I appreciate it,” Celia replied.

  “Is this a car he normally drives?”

  “I’ve only seen his Mercedes. I don’t even know if it was his car.”

  “If it was a rental, there will be a record. That would help. I mean why would a guy with a car rent something else to drive around town?”

  Celia had thought of that as well, and while she hoped it was the case, she had a feeling Bart was smarter than that. She doubted there would be a rental record.

  “Just be careful. I’ll promise we’ll do everything we can to track this. And I’ll keep you informed. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

  “You know, I’m just gonna go home. The alarm system is fixed, and I’ll lock my bedroom door too.”

  “I’d be glad to follow you home and check things out.”

  “No, I don’t want you to do that. I’ll be fine. He probably thinks I’ll go back to Keith’s now or something.”

  “That’s actually what I’d recommend. At least call him when you arrive home. Or call me. I’ll have someone drive by your house a couple of times.”

  “Thanks. I mean it.” Celia stood and shook his hand. He picked up his phone to call about the cameras, and Celia walked herself out of the station and back to her car.

  When Celia got home, she went inside and immediately rearmed the system. She left the lights on outside both doors, though she knew the light would make it harder to sleep. Taking a knife from a top drawer in the kitchen, she went through every room and closet just in case. There was no doubt in her mind she’d use the knife if she needed to do so. Once she was satisfied no one else was in the house, she got ready for bed. Even though she needed to do a bit of work, she wasn’t in the mood. Instead, she took a sleeping pill and watched trash television until she felt drowsy. She was almost asleep when she realized she hadn’t called Keith. After sending him a short text, Celia fell asleep.

  At 9:00 the next morning, Celia was checking email in her office when the phone rang. It was Keith.

  “Hey,” She answered the phone. “Sorry I didn’t call last night. I was beat. Did you get my text?”

  “I did. I got it last night.” Keith replied. “I talked to Walt this morning.”

  Shoot, Celia thought. “Yeah, sorry I didn’t tell you about that last night. I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “He didn’t call me. I called him. When I went outside this morning, someone had keyed my truck and slashed the rear tires.”

  “Oh my god, Keith! Do you know who it was? Was it Bart?”

  “I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised. If he followed you from here, he probably figured you’d come back here instead of going home.”

  “It’s a good thing I didn’t, then.” Celia was a little smug.

  “Yeah, right, not my point. He probably came back here to wait for you. Since you didn’t come back, he thought he’d send a little message.”

  “Oh, Keith, I’m sorry about your truck. What a bastard.”

  “I’m gonna report it. They know you’ve been staying with me. Maybe they can connect the dots.”

  “I hope so,” Celia replied. “And Keith, can I ask a favor? I know Natasha grills you for information. Don’t mention this.”

  “Yeah, she’s a bulldog. She has a way of fishing...”

  “So that you say more than you meant to. I know. But don’t tell her this.”

  “I’ll keep it quiet.”

  “Thanks, Keith. I’ve got a meeting, but I’ll call later.”

  After she ended the call, Celia cursed to herself and broke a pencil. It didn’t solve anything, but she felt better. It was almost 9:30, and she was meeting with Julia at 10:00. Julia had been an underused talent when John was in charge, and Celia had been meaning to talk to her about a byline. She’d been one of Celia’s biggest supporters, and she deserved a reward for her loyalty.

  At 10:30, as Celia was wrapping up her meeting, Gladys interrupted. “I’m sorry to disturb you. But you have a call. I think it’s an emergency.”

  “Your life is never boring, is it?” Julia chuckled.

  “You have no idea,” Celia rolled her eyes. “Let me know what you decide. I’d like to start this at the beginning of February.”

  “It’s the police,” Gladys said softly as she transferred the call to Celia’s office.

  “This is Celia.”

  “Celia, it’s Walter. We...we had a call this morning from the Garden Inn. The one on Kennedy.

  That was where Celia’s father was staying. “What happened?”

  “Well, the housekeeper went into your father’s room this morning to change the linens, and she found him unresponsive in the restroom.”

  “Unresponsive?”

  “Yes, it seems he slipped. They took him to General.”

  “I’ll head there now,” Celia said. She still hadn’t forgiven her father. But something in her gut told her there was more to the story.

  “Do you need a ride?”

  “No, I’m good. Are you sure he slipped? Is he okay?”

  “Just tell them who you are at the nurse’s desk. They’ll give you all the details.”

  Celia told Gladys she had to meet someone and left before her assistant could ask any questions. She made it to the hospital in record time, and when she asked about Stewart Marshall, the nurse showed her to a waiting area and promised to call the doctor.

  “Ms. Brockwell?” a middle-aged woman called her name a few minutes later.

  “That’s me. I’m Stewart Marshall’s daughter.” The words sounded strange.

  “Follow me, and we’ll talk. Your father is in ICU.”

  “ICU? From a slip in the bathroom?”

  “Did you know your father was diabetic?”

  “Yes, he told me. He said he was using some sort of insulin pump.”

  “He was. I’m just not sure if he made an error, or there was some sort of malfunction.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Well, his type of pump also monitors blood sugar. When his sugar is too low or too high, he receives a notification, even an alarm if it’s severe. It looks like he gave himself a large bolus.”

  “Bolus?”

  �
��A dose of insulin. Perhaps it was at dinnertime? At any rate, he had too much. His pump should have notified him that his sugar was dangerously low, but apparently, it didn’t.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means your father went into a coma. His body began shutting down after his sugar bottomed out. And he wasn’t found until this morning, which means there is significant damage.”

  “How significant?”

  “I’m afraid his organs are failing.”

  Celia didn’t respond as the doctor led her through a set of doors and down a hallway. They stopped in front of a small room.

  “He’s in here. You may go in for five to ten minutes, then we’ll talk more. We’ve notified his children and ex-wife. They should be here this afternoon.”

  Celia entered the small room and sat in the chair next to her father’s bed. His face was slack and pale, and it was obvious he was in serious condition. Monitors displayed his blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen level. He had an IV, and he was being given oxygen. She could also see a catheter bag at the foot of his bed.

  “What happened, Dad? Did you take too much insulin? Was it you who overdosed? How did you fall?”

  There was no way to know, but Celia couldn’t help thinking it was pretty convenient that her father was in a coma. Bart knew he was in town; did he know they were going to meet? Was he stalking her father the way he’d been stalking her? And even if he was, where was the proof?

  “I don’t know what to do, Dad. We’re basically strangers. Your real family isn’t here yet. Why did it take you so long to figure out how bad you screwed up?” Celia took his hand and tried to feel something. She couldn’t. Maybe if they'd had longer. Still, she didn’t want to watch her father die. After a few more minutes of silence, she squeezed his hand and left the room.

  “Ms. Brockwell,” a nurse called as she walked down the hall. “Would you like for me to contact you when the rest of your family arrives?”

  It’s not my family.

  “No thank you. Just call me if his condition changes. Or I’ll check.”

  She pressed the button to open the double doors and left the ICU.

  Chapter 29