by Laurie Nave
She threw her hands up and stomped out of the guest room toward the kitchen. Opening the dishwasher, she began putting up the clean dishes. When she slammed a tumbler onto the shelf, it shattered. “Dammit!” Celia ran her finger under the cold water, hissing as it stung her.
Keith took a clean dish towel from the top drawer. He turned the water off and wrapped the rag around Celia’s finger, applying enough pressure to make her curse again. “Celia, talk to me.”
Pulling her hand away, Celia looked at her finger. “Go sit on the couch. I’ll be there in a second. She blotted the cut again and then grabbed some gauze and tape from her first aid kit before sitting beside Keith on the couch.
“Need some help?” He took the supplies. After wrapping her finger in the gauze, he taped it securely and then sat back.
“I really thought Natasha’s attorney would pull a rabbit out of his hat.” Celia sighed.
“He kept her on death row for a decade. He did everything he could.” Taking Celia’s uninjured hand, Keith continued. “I know you two formed a kind of bond, but she killed five people.”
“I know that. I’m not stupid!” Celia pulled her hand back. “She also lost her mother and a life with her brother to a man who only loved her for the money!”
“What are you talking about? What brother?”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
“Try me. Celia didn’t have a brother.”
“Yes, she did!” Celia pounded the sofa. “William is her brother!”
Keith opened and closed his mouth. Celia could tell she had shocked him. Good.
“What? How did you find out?”
“It doesn’t matter. And you can’t say anything.”
“And what about her mother? What did Natasha’s father do to her mother?”
“I shouldn’t have said any of that. You can’t share it. It’s from the interviews.”
“But aren’t the interviews for an article?”
“Not that part. Some things should stay private.” Celia chuckled. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
“I can. You’re a journalist, but you’re still a good person.”
“That’s just it. I’m really not. I just seem that way to you because you don’t get it.”
Keith shook his head. “Now you’ve lost me again.”
“I understand Natasha. I get why she did what she did, how she thinks. I get it because we’re alike.”
“Alike? Celia, it’s one thing to see her point of view. But you’re not alike. You’ve never killed anyone. You don’t use and manipulate people.”
Celia’s short laugh was sharp. “Don’t I? You don’t know how I worked my way here. The way I played on people’s insecurities, manipulated circumstances to get a story. Hell, I used Bart knowing he had feelings, and then I dumped him when he was too much trouble. And honestly, I’d like to kill him.” She sighed. “He’s just not worth getting caught.”
“None of that means you’re like Natasha. You care about people. You have feelings.”
Celia stood and walked away from the couch. She spun around to look at Keith again. “I really don’t. I mean, I enjoy Marlene’s company, but her friendship benefitted me. The inside knowledge she had from working so closely with John helped me to get more stories and work my way up at The Journal. I don’t feel anything about her life or her baby. Not really.
“And Lucille,” Celia continued, beginning to pace. “If she didn’t check my mail and keep an eye on things, she’d just be an annoying old lady. Her cat? Jerry? He annoyed the crap out of me. I should have been horrified when I saw him in that box. But I was just pissed at Bart and what he’d done to my house.”
“Come on, Celia. The man has been terrorizing you. No wonder you didn’t mourn for a cat.”
“Then there’s you.” Celia stopped in front of him. “I’m kicking you out the night before Natasha’s execution because I don’t want you here. I don’t want you hovering. I don’t need you anymore because my head is fine. I don’t want to need you around.”
“Sit down,” Keith ordered. He sounded like a guard instead of a friend.
Celia was caught so off guard by his change in tone, she sank into a chair and stopped rambling.
“You’ve got walls. You’re tough. You don’t express feelings, and yeah, you look out for yourself first. Hell, maybe you would kill Bart if you thought you’d get away with it. But all this stuff about being exactly like a serial killer is bull.”
Celia started to protest.
“No, look at me and don’t talk. I don’t know what you’ve done or whether you feel guilty about any of it.”
“I don’t –“
“I said don’t talk. Yeah, you do what you have to. I get that. But you’re not a sociopath. Don’t make that face. It’s rude.”
“You don’t know what I am.”
“I know you’re my friend. I know you’re pushing me away so I won’t see how much this execution bothers you. I know you don’t do closeness and you don’t do relationships.” Keith looked at Celia until she had to look away from him. “But you’re not a sociopath. And even if you are, I don’t much care. I’m here.”
Idiot. Celia smiled. “I appreciate that. And as much as I can do friendship, you’re the closest I’ve got. I mean that. But I just can’t have you stay tonight.”
Keith sighed and lowered his head, and neither of them spoke. Finally, he slapped his knees, stood, and grabbed his bag. “Understood. I’ll go.”
“Thanks, Keith.”
“What time do you visit her tomorrow?”
“1:00.”
“I’ll be there. I’ll be there the whole day and night.”
“I know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After Keith left, Celia sat on the sofa for a long time. She thought about their conversation, she thought about letting Natasha’s secrets slip. She thought about all the things she knew about the actress’s life and William’s life. Am I helping her die by keeping her secrets? Would betraying her confidence save her? Probably, not, Celia thought. All her suspicions were just suspicions, and Natasha would never forgive her, even if it saved her from being executed. Celia’s phone pinged and interrupted her thoughts.
“I’m home. Try to sleep.” It was Keith.
Celia sighed and walked into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and put on some pajamas. The pain medication was sitting on her bedside table. She’d only taken a couple of them because they knocked her out, but now she thought that was exactly what she needed. Taking two of them, she swallowed, washed them down with water, and climbed into bed.
Chapter 33
Celia woke up at 6:00 am, fighting for breath. She sat up, pulling the wet pajama top off and looking around her dim room to get her bearings. She had sweated through her sheets, and she immediately started shivering, so she threw off the bedding and stumbled to the bathroom to turn on the shower. Resting her hands on the counter, she surveyed herself in the mirror. Even with a night of heavy sleep, she had circles under her eyes, and she looked like the drugs were still working, with puffy cheeks and disheveled hair. I look like death, fitting.
The hot spray felt like heaven. Celia wasn’t sure how long she stood under the steamy water, but she didn’t care. It was 6:00 am, and she didn’t need to be at the prison until after lunch. Even if she worked a couple of hours first, she had plenty of time. In the spirit of indulgence, Celia washed her hair twice, slathered on the fancy conditioner that cost more than a five-star meal, and shaved her legs. By the time the hot water began to run tepid, she felt as pampered as if she’d been to a spa.
She was not surprised to see a message from Keith, even though it was only 7:00 am. She pulled on her terry cloth robe and dialed his number.
“Celia, you’re already awake?”
“You sent me a message.”
“I hope it didn’t wake you, I just wanted to make sure you woke up.”
“You realize that makes no sense at all, don
’t you?”
“Whatever. How did you sleep?”
“Like a rock. I drugged myself and didn’t move until 6:00.”
“Ha! So I didn’t wake you up!”
“No, you didn’t, but 6:00 am is a one-off for me, just so you know.” Celia moved to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. “Is everything quiet there?”
“I don’t go in until 9:00 today. But I’ll be there until almost midnight.”
“Wow, why so late?”
“Paperwork. Not to be an ass, but execution days are murder.”
Celia wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t. Instead, she put an extra spoonful of Splenda into her coffee and stirred.
“Oh god, Celia, I’m sorry.”
“No problem. I’m making coffee.”
“What time will you be here?”
“My visiting time is 1:00, but I may get there early. I’d like to talk with her attorney. I was thinking 11:00.”
“I figure he’ll be here all day. She actually has a few people on her list, starting at 10:00.”
Celia was surprised. Except for Andrew, William, and herself, she couldn’t think of anyone Natasha had even mentioned in her interviews who was still alive. The morbid thought punched her in the stomach, and she poured the rest of her coffee down the sink.
“Celia, are you still there?”
“I am. I’m going to try to do a little work before I go to the prison. I figure I’ll get ready here, go to the office for a couple of hours, and then head there.”
“Are you sure you want to go to work today?”
“Yeah, I need to. I haven’t been there since the accident. I need to get a few things done.” Celia’s head began to ache. “Which means I probably need to go ahead and get started.”
“I’ll let you go then. I’ll see you when you get there.”
Celia filled her coffee mug again, this time black, and grabbed a slice of homemade bread. She popped a couple of ibuprofen and started her morning routine. Once her hair and makeup were done, she stared at the contents of her closet. What do I wear to an execution? Natasha would kill her if she wore black. After sliding a few outfits back and forth along the rack, she decided on a navy blue and tan hound’s-tooth jacket with dark pants. After choosing dark pumps and a blouse, she put them on while sipping the dregs of her coffee.
Gladys was watering plants when Celia arrived. “Good morning! How are you feeling? Still sore?”
“I’m much better, thanks. Just ready to get my car back. The rental isn’t my style.” Gladys chuckled, and Celia walked into her office and closed the door. In lieu of the fluorescent lighting, she turned on the small lamp at her desk. The hum of the lights would probably give her a headache. She saw her voicemail light blinking but decided to check email first.
Celia,
I wasn’t sure you’d be in today, so I am canceling our regular meeting today at 10:00 am. I may see you this afternoon.
William
Celia wasn’t surprised William canceled the meeting. She was, however, curious about what he meant by seeing her this afternoon. Has he changed his mind about going to the execution? Can he even do that this late? She assumed he was cryptic because he was using his work email.
“Celia,” Julia knocked and then stuck her head inside the door. “You busy?”
“Not too busy. Come on in.”
“I heard about your accident. I’m glad you are okay.” Julia sat and leaned forward. “You’re okay, right?
“I am. Just a little sore.”
“Your brakes locked? I bet that was scary. Glad it wasn’t worse. Did you get a rental?”
“I did. They gave me a Prius. It was all they had.”
“Well, at least you’ll get good gas mileage.”
“True. You always find the silver lining.”
“I try. Have you seen William? Don’t you have a meeting with him?”
“He canceled it. Must have something else to do.”
Julia nodded. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. We should do lunch next week.”
“Sounds good.”
Once Julia left, Celia locked her door and tried to focus on email. There was an email notifying her that a meeting was canceled. Two staff members sent drafts of upcoming stories. Celia opened one and tried to read it. She stared at the first paragraph, reading it three times before giving up. Reading articles would have to wait.
“Gladys,” Celia buzzed her assistant. “Other than the meeting with William, my day was clear, right?”
“It is. You said you’d be leaving before lunch for an appointment, so I cleared everything.”
“Thanks.” Celia hung up and rubbed her temples. Why did I try to work today? Because I didn’t want to be stuck at home. Sighing, she opened the folder named “NB Interviews.” After putting in her earbuds, she began clicking each one in chronological order.
For the next hour, Celia listened to bits and pieces of all the interviews. The first one, when it was obvious they were sizing each other up and Natasha was deciding whether she could trust the reporter. The generalities of Celia’s life that she shared with the killer to keep her talking. Then there was the comfortable banter, and the venting Celia did when Bart became a nuisance. The journey from two strangers to friends and confidantes was right there in 12 sound files on Celia’s laptop.
Of course, not all the details were there. The farther along they got in the interview process, the more often Celia agreed to turn off the recorder to protect Natasha’s privacy or her own. There were no recorded details about Natasha’s mother or the fact that William was her brother. Their conversation about whether or not Celia could murder Bart was absent. The only people who knew those things were the two women, and one of them would die in a few hours. Celia didn’t know whether to feel sad or relieved.
The alarm on Celia’s phone interrupted her listening. It was 10:15, time for her to go to the prison. Depending on traffic, she’d be there close to 11:00. Hopefully, she’d have a chance to talk with Andrew and Keith and ascertain how Natasha was doing. She closed her laptop and then her office and headed to Delaware.
“Name and identification please.” Because Celia was in a different part of the facilities, the receptionist was different. This woman was younger and much less friendly. Celia gave her name and slid her driver’s license under the window.
“Sign the registry, please. If you have a cell phone or any other devices, you must leave them here. Then step to the side.”
Celia did as the woman asked and then stepped to the side to be patted down by a guard. “Please see the receptionist.” He said.
“Your appointment is at 1:00. You can wait here or go through the detector and wait in the public assigned area until you’re called.”
Celia opted to go through the metal detector, and then a guard escorted her to a plain room with limited seating and a couple of tables. There was a coffee machine, water fountain, and snack machine against one wall and a row of barred windows on the opposite wall. A television hung on the wall, a news station playing with closed captions and no sound.
“Glad to see you,” Andrew sat down and offered her a paper cup with water.
“I was hoping I could talk with you before my visit.” Celia sipped the water. “See how she’s doing?”
“We talked earlier. She’s not too talkative, which is understandable. I told her I’d sent another letter to the governor, and I know a friend of hers has done the same.”
“Do you think it will do any good?”
Andrew sighed. “I’m not sure. I hope so, but I’m honestly not hopeful.” He sat up and looked at Celia. “But you may be able to help. It’s not too late.”
“How can I help?”
“You have contacts. You can go to someone right now and share some of her story. I know enough about her life to know that parts of it would make her a sympathetic victim, especially regarding her father. You probably know more than I do.”
Celia finished the water an
d crushed the cup. She walked to the wastebasket and dropped it in, trying to think of an answer for the attorney. He was watching her.
“I don’t think I can do that.”
“Why not? She won’t know. She can’t pull the story now. If it has a chance of helping with an intervention –“
“I signed a contract, and I gave Natasha my word. I may not understand why, but she doesn’t want one word of that article published until after her execution. That's her choice to make. Every other choice has been taken away from her. I’m not taking that one.”
Andrew cursed and stood. “Enjoy your visit.” He walked away.
Why did I come here so early? Celia considered hiding until 1:00. Maybe I can take a nap. Chuckling, she leaned her head against the cinderblock wall and closed her eyes.
“Celia, I didn’t think you’d be here yet.” William startled her.
“William, you’re here! Are you visiting Natasha?”
“I just saw her.” He sat and gestured helplessly. “I just can’t believe the state is going through with it.”
“I know. How does she seem?”
He scoffed. “You know her. She’s calm and sarcastic, sitting there with perfect posture.”
“Hair and makeup are done, no doubt.” Celia chuckled.
William laughed and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as Celia had done earlier.
Should I leak the story? Should I do what her attorney asked even though Natasha was clear? Should I betray her wishes to try to help? Celia wanted to ask William, but she didn’t. She was afraid of what he would say.
“You want some coffee?” William finally asked.
“I’m good. I don’t think I need to be caffeinated.”
William walked to the coffeemaker and made a cup. Then he counted the change and bought something from the machine. He sat back down beside Celia, offering her one of the stale vanilla crème cookies in the small package. She took one to be polite.
“I wonder how long these have been here,” she joked as she took a bite. It wasn’t too bad for a stale cookie.
“I don’t want to know. He sipped from the Styrofoam cup.” I do know you made the right decision about the coffee.” He took another sip and grimaced.
