by HC Michaels
Not to mention all the time she used to spend at the hairdresser having cuts, colours, blow waves and treatments. Her poor hair was serving a prison sentence all of its own. It’d grown back now in a mousy brown colour she hadn’t seen since she was a child. It hung around her neck in greasy strands. There was no way she was going to visit the hairdresser at the prison. Her fellow inmates were a walking advertisement of exactly what damage they could do. No, she’d wait until she got out of this place and have her hair done in a proper salon. It could grow to her ankles for all she cared.
Long gone were the days spent trawling through her favourite online stores or walking the length of Chapel Street with bags of shopping hanging from her arms, replaced by days spent unwinding cords from airline headphones. She thought this was a particularly cruel job to offer prisoners. It was a very effective way of rubbing it in that out in the world people were flying to exotic destinations without so much as a thought spared for the women behind bars ensuring their auditory pleasure was taken care of during their journey.
The more headphones she untangled, the more her grief wound itself around her soul.
She missed Theo. She missed him like she’d miss breathing if the world ran out of air. She half expected him to turn up on visiting days and had to remind herself he was dead.
He’d be outraged if he could see how she was being treated in here as if she were some kind of number. It was like being back in the call centre, only on steroids. She had all individuality stripped of her. She wore the same ugly clothes as the other inmates, ate the same awful food, slept on the same hard beds and washed in the same dirty showers. She’d been treated with a bit of celebrity fascination when she first arrived, but that hadn’t lasted long. People’s memories were short.
Her father’s memory was one of them. Since all this happened, he’d forgotten all about her. She’d sent him several letters, but he hadn’t replied. That hurt. To think she came so close to having him in her life only to have it torn away by this ridiculous misunderstanding. All she’d ever wanted was to get to know him. If only he’d give her the opportunity to explain things.
She hadn’t bothered to try to explain herself to the other women in here, having quickly learnt it was far better for them to think of her as dangerous. If they knew how harmless she really was she could become a target.
They all called her Manis. She liked that. It helped her pretend she was a different person. Skye didn’t belong in prison. It also reminded her of Theo. He might’ve been torn from her side, but his name stayed with her. The last remaining symbol of the love they’d once shared.
She’d been given a life sentence, found guilty of Theo’s murder as well as attempting to murder George and her mother. The prosecution had successfully convinced a jury she’d been slowly poisoning her mother and the power had gone to her head, so she decided to get rid of both Theo and George—Theo for his money and George because she’d never liked him.
It was ridiculous! Theo was worth far more to her alive. As for George, she’d never liked him, but she had no reason to want him dead. There were plenty of people far higher up on her hit list than him if she were that kind of person (which she most definitely was not).
George had actually stood on the stand, sworn on the bible and said she offered him the brownies. He’d cried every time he said Theo’s name. One of the jurors looked like she was about to start crying, too.
How could he sleep at night? She’d distinctly told him not to touch those stupid brownies. She remembered saying it. Once again, she cursed herself for destroying the note that proved it.
The police claimed the history on her laptop was littered with searches for effective poisons, including thallium. She’d never searched for any such thing. Clearly, they were making that up to support their case. It wasn’t unheard of for police to do things like that. She’d watched a whole series on Netflix about that once.
Even Dr Addison had turned on her with the report he submitted to the court. It was strange listening to his assessment of her. Words were fired, hitting her like rubber bullets, bouncing off and leaving bruises all over her body.
Disrupted moral development as a result of childhood neglect. Smack!
Lack of remorse coupled with limited understanding of the impact of her actions. Wham!
Limited ability to empathise with others. Pow!
Egocentric with elements of narcissism and psychopathy. Boom!
Dr Addison did say she had no apparent motivation for killing Theo, stating she had nothing to gain by his death, but these words were lost amongst all the defamatory statements he made upfront. The jury had already convicted her in their heads before they even got to hear that part of the report.
He also said he believed her grief was real and her lie about having cancer was a separate issue and should be treated as such.
This was an impossible request. The jury could no more separate her from her lie than they could the stars from the sky. She’d become her lie and was wearing it draped around her shoulders like a neon shawl. It was the only thing people could see when they looked at her.
Why would they believe her word over what George had to say? She was a narcissist with disrupted moral development. Of course, she’d offered George and Theo the brownies. George had no reason to lie. So, why had he?
He was the one person who knew for certain she hadn’t done it. The only thing she could think of was he believed she’d been trying to poison her mother and therefore blamed her for Theo’s death. If that was the case, he’d be determined to see her behind bars for as long as possible.
Unless he was covering up for someone.
But who?
As much as she wanted it to be Rin or Sophie, she now knew it wasn’t. The brownies had been found in her own kitchen. It couldn’t have been either of them.
It could only have been Linda or Amber.
Amber was far too young and stupid to be able to carry off such a crime. She’d never made a brownie in her life.
Which left Linda. She was the only other person with access to the kitchen. And she knew how to cook.
She was also the only one she allowed in her dressing room. She must have found the diaries and read them. She knew her mother wanted to die. She probably thought she was being humane putting her out of her misery. Or maybe she was setting her up so she could get her hands on Theo. She’d seen the way she looked at him.
Maybe a younger housekeeper might have been a better idea after all. Or at least one who had references she could’ve checked.
If she kept turning the facts over in her mind, agitating them and sifting through them, everything would become clear eventually.
The thing about the truth is it always rises to the surface.
All she had to do was wait.
THE END
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MORE BY HC MICHAELS
What would you do if your DNA linked you to a crime you didn’t commit?
Elvira has a heartbreaking secret. Tessa is more connected to the family she works for than she realises. Kosta has more to hide than all of them.
When this fractured family is brought together by a tragic death, they must travel to a tropical island to organise the funeral. They’re about to discover they’re not the only ones harbouring explosive truths.
A string of violent crimes follows them, and nobody can figure out the connection. When a member of this troubled family becomes the next victim, the suspicion grows. Key evidence suggests one of them is a serial killer. But how do you prove your innocence when everything is pointing to you?
As the case blows wide open, Elvira, Tessa and Kosta are about to discover if blood really is thicker than water.
Fans of Gone Girl, The Woman in the Window, and The Girl on the Train will love by the twists in this psychological thriller by HC Michaels.
Grab your copy now!
About the Author
HC Michaels lives in Melbourne, Australia. When not writing, she teaches public relations at an online university, and lives with her husband and two sons. She doesn’t enjoy cooking but has been known to threaten people with making brownies…
HC Michaels also writes award-winning dystopian and fantasy novels under the name Heidi Catherine. You can find out more at www.heidicatherine.com
