Chosen by a Killer

by Laurie Nave

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I knew he had a wife. She died a few years ago. He still kept in touch with her family, which seemed kind of nice when he told me. But then Walt wondered about her accident.”

  “She died in an accident?”

  “Yeah, apparently it was one car, at night, on a curvy road.”

  Keith sighed. “This isn’t good.”

  “You think he probably killed her.”

  “It’s not a stretch. He could have done the same thing. And depending on the extent of the crash, no one would have noticed a hole or tear in the brake line.” Keith looked at Celia. “He’s done this before.”

  “Well that’s just great,” Celia muttered.

  “Let’s just get you checked out, and then we can deal with the accident.”

  There was a pretty good crowd at the ER, but Keith talked to the nurse and showed her some credentials, so they took Celia back quickly. She could feel angry stares at her back, but she didn’t care. She was being stalked by a psycho. That trumped pretty much everything in her opinion. A nurse took her vitals and did the usual neurological checks and asked them to wait for one of the doctors on call.

  “Let’s see,” a middle-aged doctor walked in and picked up the clipboard with Celia’s information. “It says here you had a single-car accident. Can you tell me about it?”

  “I was driving home, and I tried to slow down on the way down a hill,” Celia began. “My brakes locked up or something, and I couldn’t stop. I swerved onto the shoulder, but I overestimated, and I went down the embankment and into the ditch. I hit a pretty big bump, and the car turned on its side.”

  The doctor stepped forward and took Celia’s head in his hands, gently moving it from side to side. “Any pain?” Celia shook her head no. He performed the basic neurological tests as the nurse had, and then he did some writing.

  “Ms. Brockwell, I’m going to send you to radiology for a couple of tests and some imaging. We’ll take a look at those. No doubt you’ll be pretty sore for the next few days, but if the images don’t show injury, you should be fine. Are you feeling any nausea or dizziness?”

  “No, none.”

  “Alright, then. The nurse will be back in soon to take you down to radiology. I’ll also write you a prescription for pain. It isn’t unusual to have a bruised sternum in these kinds of accidents, and those are painful.”

  After the doctor left, Keith studied Celia. “You sure you aren’t nauseated, being tough for the doctor?”

  Celia laughed. “I’m fine. If I did hit my head, it couldn’t have been very hard. The car didn’t actually roll. I figure my neck will be the sorest.”

  He rubbed it for a few minutes, and Celia winced. It was already getting tender.

  “I’ll wait up here while you get x-rays. Then we can head to your house, by way of takeout, of course.” He grinned.

  “Oh yeah, our supper is all over my car, isn’t it?”

  “Too bad. I was really in the mood for pizza.”

  When Celia returned from radiology, Keith was on the phone, arguing with someone. “I don’t care what you have to do. Get some footage, find out what happened to that car. You and I both know it was Bart. He’s crazy, and if you guys don’t stop him, I will.” Celia stepped backward to listen. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry, you’re right. Yeah, I know she’s not my sister. Just try to find something out, and soon.”

  Celia made some noise as she walked in, and Keith hung up the phone. “They said the doctor should be back up here in half an hour. Apparently, I’m a VIP.”

  “Celia Brockwell, rising star editor-in-chief,” Keith smiled.

  “Yeah right. More like Celia who? Friend of assertive cops.”

  The doctor walked in carrying a clipboard. “Well, Ms. Brockwell, it looks like you have a mild concussion. I’m not seeing any fractures or dislocations, but, as I said, you’ll be sore, especially your sternum. I have a prescription here for some pain medication, and you need to be monitored for the next 48 hours.”

  “I can do that at home, correct?” Celia was not about to stay in the hospital overnight if she didn’t have to stay. She was not a fan of hospitals.

  “I wouldn’t be comfortable with that if you live alone.”

  “I’ll be staying with her for as long as necessary,” Keith said. He nodded when Celia mouthed a thank-you.

  “In that case, be sure to avoid sleeping for the next several hours. If you experience any severe nausea, dizziness, or vomiting, you need to come back in immediately. A concussion is not something to ignore. I would also avoid driving for several days.”

  Celia was about to protest, but Keith spoke up first. “She won’t be going to work for a couple of days, and when she goes back, I’ll be driving her.”

  The doctor nodded, gave some final instructions, and then he left them to prepare to go home.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Celia said as she gathered her things.

  “Just following doctor’s orders. And I’ll be making sure you do too.”

  “So am I grounded?”

  “You will be if you don’t behave.”

  Celia rolled her eyes, and Keith laughed. They left the hospital and climbed into Keith’s Jeep. Celia winced a bit as she pulled the seatbelt across her body. Okay, so maybe the doctor had a point. Her head was throbbing, and so she asked Keith if they could drop off the prescription on their way back to her house. He agreed and said he’d get back out to pick it up later. Celia wasn’t used to being taken care of by someone else, but she was grateful for Keith. The whole event had rattled her, and she didn’t want to be alone. It was a strange feeling, depending on someone besides herself.

  “Go rest. I’ll wake you with some food and your medicine in 45 minutes. Don’t go to sleep.”

  “Yes, Dad.” Celia rolled her eyes at Keith. Ugh, note to self, eye-rolling hurts.

  “Don’t make me ground you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Celia closed her bedroom door. She kicked off her shoes and climbed into the bed fully clothed. Thank goodness for blackout shades. Surely closing her eyes would ease the pain.

  “Wake up, sleepy. I thought I told you sleeping was out.” Keith was nudging her gently.

  “What the –“Celia rolled over. “Oh god, my head.”

  “I’ve got the stuff for that. Sit up.” He pulled back the covers and lifted her into a sitting position.

  “This is the worst hangover I’ve ever had.”

  “Funny,” Keith chuckled. “I made you a sandwich. Grilled cheese.”

  “Aw, mom, my favorite.”

  He shrugged. “My mom made it for us when we were sick. Plus I hate to cook on short notice. Especially when there’s nothing in your fridge.”

  “It tastes amazing,” Celia pointed at him with the sandwich. “I had cheese?”

  “Well, no. I got a few things when I picked up your medicine.”

  “What’s in this?”

  “Provolone, cheddar, swiss, and Colby. With lots of butter.”

  “Heaven help us,” Celia took another bite. “How are you not married with three kids?”

  “Just lucky, I guess. Here’s some water. Once you’ve had a few more bites, you need to take this. It’ll help with the headache. Then you probably need a shower. No offense.”

  “Well, that killed the mood,” Celia snorted.

  Keith left the room, and she heard him washing the skillet he’d used to cook. Lots of butter? Celia wondered how many groceries he bought. She finished the sandwich and took her meds.

  The hot shower felt amazing. Celia stood in the steam with one hand against the wall, just in case. The steam cleared her head, and her muscles began to relax. Surveying her body, she saw a few scrapes and some marks that would probably become nasty bruises. The largest mark was between her breasts, where the seat belt had been. That’s where the doctor said she’d have the most pain. Celia hadn’t been in an accident since high school when her buddy had run a red light after a ballgame. No one was seriou
sly hurt then either, but she remembered that the pain got worse before it got better.

  “What are you doing?” Keith asked from the couch. He was watching a game.

  “I was just going to check some things before bedtime.” Celia opened her laptop.

  He was out of the couch before she finished the sentence. “Yeah, no.” He closed the laptop. “No work tonight.”

  “I’m not dying. It’s a bump on the head.”

  “You spend time looking at that screen, you’re gonna regret it tomorrow. Migraine city.”

  “I don’t get migraines.”

  “You do now. At least for a day or so.” Keith rubbed his head. “Trust me, I’ve had a few concussions.”

  Celia pushed the laptop away and got comfortable. “That sounds like a few good stories.”

  “Ah, you know, mostly football.” Keith flexed.

  “You played basketball.”

  “Reporters remember everything. It’s annoying.” Keith sat next to her. “Okay. I got one when I had a bike wreck in junior high school. Split the back of my head open. Blood everywhere. I was a legend.”

  “I bet. Boys and blood.” Celia poked him.

  “Then I got into a fight in high school.”

  “Over a girl?”

  “Over my sister,” Keith said. “A boyfriend forgot she had a big brother.”

  Celia fanned herself. “How chivalrous. I’m impressed.” She sat forward with her chin in her hand. “And the other one?”

  “Remember how I said female inmates can be every bit as rough as male inmates?”

  “Ouch.” Celia winced. “So you got beat up by a girl.”

  “Well, more like knocked down. Another guard and I were pulling two inmates apart. Mine lost her balance and fell backward. She was...substantial. And the floor was hard.”

  “You really are a concussion expert. I’m feeling lucky I just had an accident.”

  Keith stood and walked to the window, looking out carefully. “It wasn’t an accident.”

  Celia joined him, and they both looked up and down the street. “You don’t think he’s close by?”

  “He knows my jeep. I doubt he’d risk it.” Keith put a hand on Celia’s shoulder. “But we’ve got to get the evidence he did this. He escalates with every interaction.”

  “That’s your department, or Walt’s. Or maybe Natasha knows a hitman.”

  Keith laughed. “I didn’t hear that.”

  They watched the rest of the game, and Celia took another pill before going to bed. It would knock her out, but she didn’t have any illusions about going to work the next day. Keith would stand in front of the door to prevent her if he had to do so. She felt strange being fussed over, but it was nice to have a friend close by, especially one with a concealed carry permit.

  “Glad you slept all night. Call if you need anything. STAY HOME.”

  Celia read Keith’s note as she drank coffee. She’d slept until almost 9:00, not hearing Keith at all when he left. Other than a dull throbbing in her head and chest, Celia felt almost normal. She was tempted to go to work, but if Keith didn’t drag her home, Gladys probably would. Instead, she took her coffee and laptop to the sofa and decided to do a little work from home.

  “Yes, can I speak to William? It’s Celia Brockwell.” Celia typed a response to an email while she was on hold.

  “Celia! What are you doing on the phone? You’re supposed to be resting!” William scolded her. “I heard last night. Someone tampered with your brakes?”

  “How do you know these things?”

  “I have spies everywhere.” William chuckled. “Actually, I called last night around 9:30, and Keith told me. They need to quit dicking around and catch that bastard.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears.” Celia pressed send. “I’m going to try to wrap up the piece on the commissioners today.”

  “Don’t worry about that. We can run it next edition if we need to. You need to make sure that head of yours is okay. That head makes money.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you’re concerned!”

  “Of course!” William laughed. “No really, I don’t want you to push it. I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”

  “That makes two of us. So what did you need last night?”

  “I was calling to remind you that I’m going to see Natasha today. I know you’re done with interviews. Anything you want me to tell her?”

  “You could tell her I’m still hoping the governor will intervene, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate that. I’m glad you’re going. She acts stoic and formidable in there, but we both know it’s an act. At least some of it has to be.”

  “I’ve never seen Natasha scared, but she’d have to be superhuman not to be afraid.” William cleared his throat. “I feel so helpless.”

  “Seeing you will mean a lot to her. That I’m sure of, William. And we still have three days.”

  William coughed. “True. Well, I’ll tell her you said hello. You know, she considers you a friend, and that’s rare for her.”

  Celia smiled and ended the call. Natasha had also told Celia that she was a friend. Celia wouldn’t have admitted it, but she felt honored. And she felt the same. For whatever reason, she’d found an ally and kindred spirit in the actress.

  Celia was about to make herself something to eat when her phone rang again. She didn’t recognize the number. Was it the hospital? “Celia Brockwell.”

  “So you're still alive,” a soft voice said.

  Bart. “Who is this? Bart, what the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m glad you’re safe...for now. Too bad about Stewart.”

  “Bart, I swear to God, I will -”

  The call ended.

  Chapter 32

  For the next 48-hours, Celia appeased Keith by staying home. She talked to Keith, Walter, and two other officers about Bart’s latest call. Of course, the phone had been a burner, so there was no way to trace it. And Celia hadn’t thought to try to record the brief conversation. They all agreed, however, proof or not, Bart was the caller. Walter promised to speak with her father’s doctor at the hospital to find out more about his diabetic coma. There was nothing Celia could do but wait for news.

  On the third day after her accident, she went to her office long enough to get some messages, talk to a couple of writers, and be scolded and sent home by Gladys. Gladys was a very professional assistant, but she could switch to a mother when it suited her. Celia gave up and left the office before lunchtime.

  She was considering whether or not to cook that afternoon when someone knocked on her door. It was Lucille, and she was holding a basket.

  “Hello, Lucille, how are you?”

  “I’m just fine, but how are you?” Lucille handed Celia the basket. “That nice man staying with you told me you’d had an accident! I made some bread, and I thought I’d come to check on you. You’ve been so kind to me.”

  “Thank you. Would you like to come in?”

  “Oh, no, no. You need your rest. I just wanted to see that you were alright. I need to take Tom to the vet.”

  She named her new cat Tom. Tom and Jerry. “Well thank you for that. And for the bread. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

  Lucille walked back to her house, and Celia closed the door. Smelling the bread, she sighed. Her neighbor was a kind old lady. The bread would go well with some soup if Celia could find enough ingredients to make it.

  “What smells so good?” Keith walked into the kitchen a while later and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

  “I decided to make some soup. Lucille brought homemade bread over earlier.”

  “I guess that means you’re feeling better.” He leaned over the pot. “Looks good.”

  “It needs to simmer a little more. You can drink your beer and get comfortable.”

  Keith was already on his way into the den. He’s really made himself at home. It didn’t bother Celia, but she realized while she watched him that she was ready for him to go. Maybe cooking for him would soften t
he blow.

  “This soup is great.” Kevin got seconds from the pot. “Especially with the rain, it’s perfect.”

  “Glad you like it. You can take some to work if you want.”

  “Thanks, I probably will. And this bread...I might have to marry Lucille.”

  “Aren’t you a little young for her?”

  “Who knows?” Keith winked. “Maybe she’s a cougar.”

  “Well now I’ve lost my appetite,” Celia joked as she took her bowl to the sink.

  “That’s not very nice. She’ll sick her cat on you if she hears talk like that.”

  “Did you know she named her cat Tom? The first cat was Jerry, this one’s Tom.”

  Keith chuckled. “That’s pretty funny. Maybe tomorrow I can bring him some catnip.”

  “About that,” Celia sat next to him. “I was thinking that since I’m okay now, you might want to get back to your place.”

  Keith concentrated on his soup and bread, not answering. Celia tried not to stare at him, and she could tell by the way his back stiffened that he wasn’t pleased with her suggestion. He walked to the kitchen and put his bowl into the sink and then sat back down.

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “No, not at all. I just thought...you’ve been here a while. My head is fine. I’m going back to work. I’m sure you would like to get back to your own space.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, why?”

  “You seem off.”

  Celia sighed and walked toward the guest room. The bed was unmade, and clothes were hanging on the back of a chair. “You know, you’re kind of messy.”

  “That’s not it. What’s going on?”

  “I’m fine. I just need my space.” Celia began putting the discarded clothing into Keith’s overnight bag.

  “This is stupid,” Keith said. “I can stay one more night. You need me here, and we’re going to the same place tomorrow.”

  Celia winced and kept packing. “You’ve been great, and I appreciate it. I promise I do. But I don’t need a babysitter. You haven’t been to your own house in days. You’re too tall for this guest bed. It can’t possibly be comfortable.”

  “Celia, stop.” Keith took the bag. “What’s going on? Why are you trying to get rid of me?”