Chosen by a Killer by Laurie Nave (fastest ebook reader TXT) 📕

“I’ve been thinking about the murder you confessed to after your conviction. It was surprising at the time...”

“And?” Natasha laughed. “You aren’t going to hurt my feelings.”

“Well, now that we’ve had all these conversations, it’s even more surprising. You were very, well, pragmatic about the other murders. Confessing to this one wouldn’t have served you. You had already been sentenced, and confessing wasn’t going to change that. It doesn’t make sense.”

“You’ve gotten to know me well, Celia. And you’re right. There was no personal benefit to confessing.” She put down the pen and sat back. “Would you believe I was just a little bit sentimental?”

“Honestly? Not really.”

Laughing, Natasha picked up the pen again. “Well, maybe not in the way most people are. But an old acquaintance, the man’s daughter, wrote me a letter.”

“A letter. Did you keep it?”

“I didn’t have to,” Natasha shrugged. “I have a good memory. Occupational hazard.”

“You memorized it?”

“You never know when someone is going to go through your things.”

Dear Natasha,

I know you haven’t heard from me in a long time. I’m sorry I lost touch when you were arrested. I didn’t know what to say. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.

I’m also sorry our friendship sort of fell apart after, well, you know. I guess I didn’t know what to say then either. I felt too guilty. I figured you knew I knew, and I wasn’t sure you’d want to be around me.

Tasha, my dad was a bad person. He hurt my mom, he hurt me, but I swear I never thought he would hurt somebody else. He had too much to lose. But I know he tried to hurt you. It’s why I never invited you over again. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was, but I was scared and ashamed.

When he was found dead, I was relieved. I guess that’s terrible, but he couldn’t hurt us anymore. I wondered if maybe it was you, but then they questioned everybody, and they never did anything. My mom fell apart. I thought she’d be relieved too, but she loved him.

We moved, and life changed, and I just never really called you. I kept modeling, but once I turned 21 I quit. Too many bad memories. My mom never really got over it. We haven’t talked in years. I can’t stand the way she romanticizes him.

Anyway, I know they read your mail, so I won’t ask you if you did it. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry. I kind of wonder if part of the reason you did those things was because of him. I hope not.

I just wanted you to know I was sorry for what happened. I hope you win your next appeal.

Sincerely,

Amelia Stratford

It was quiet for a while. “Wow, that’s some letter.”

“Yes,” Natasha turned a page of the notebook. “I was surprised when I received it.”

“So tell me about Amelia. The name isn’t familiar. She was a model?”

“Yes, and she could wear anything. We knew each other fairly well. She wasn’t catty and gossipy like most of the teenagers.”

“So you were good friends. You visited her home?”

“More than once. When your father is like mine, it can be suffocating. I rarely socialized like a typical young girl. Not that it bothered me. But I needed time away from him. He thought Amelia was harmless, and he respected and admired her dad for some reason.”

“Do you know why that was?”

“I’m not sure. Her father wasn’t especially likable. Maybe they had that in common,” Natasha chuckled. “Mr. Stratford was wealthy and had a certain amount of power in the industry behind the scenes.”

“And he was abusive?”

“I never saw it. I knew Amelia’s mother was quiet. But she never hesitated to correct a photographer or assistant who stepped out of line. I heard Mr. Stratford yell at her a few times when I visited. He ruled his house. But then so did my father.”

“What happened?”

“I spent the night with Amelia. It wasn’t the first time. Her parents went out and stayed out late. That wasn’t unusual. They both liked to drink.”

“Were they alcoholics?”

“Who knows. I heard Amelia’s mother come in after midnight. She threw up in the bathroom and took a shower. But it was almost dawn when her father came home. He was loud. Amelia was still sound asleep, but I had a headache, so I went to look for some aspirin.”

“You two drank as well,” Celia smiled.

“We did. They never locked their liquor cabinet. And their wine was much better than my father’s cheap vodka. But Amelia slept like the dead when she drank. It was impossible to wake her.”

“So you went to find the aspirin.”

“Yes, they had a cabinet in the kitchen with all their pills. I was looking for an aspirin when Mr. Stratford walked in. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he had on these pajama pants.”

“He tried something.”

“At first he just said hello and asked where Amelia was. I was leaning against a corner of the L-shape counter, reaching for the pills. He got closer and told me how beautiful I was. Started stroking himself. It was disgusting to watch. I tried to get around him, but he trapped me, grabbed my shoulder, and shoved my hand down his pants.”

“God!”

“For some reason, I didn’t shout. He told me to keep my mouth shut or he would hurt me. Ruin me. He pressed me against the counter and moved my hand up and down. I stared into his face.”

“You weren’t afraid?”

“At first I was; he caught me off guard. Then I was angry. I knew he’d probably been doing it to Amelia too. She did not deserve abuse.”

“So how did you get away?”

“I didn’t. He came into my hand, groaned, and let go. Before he backed away, he warned me to stay quiet. He said he knew things about my father and that no one would hire me. Also, he said he hoped I came to visit again soon.”

“What a... He was