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

“I was only a teenager when I met William. He worried about what my father would do if he told me. Not just to him, but to me or our mother. When I asked him to help me find her because of his connections, he told me the truth.”

“I’m sure that was shocking.”.

“It was. He was so afraid I would be angry. But I wasn’t. It explained why he and my father hated each other. And it confirmed my suspicions that my father was a liar.”

Celia could tell by Natasha’s slouched posture and tight fists that the memories bothered her. It was time for a change of subject.

“I wanted to talk some about the trial today if you don’t mind,” Celia picked up the recorder. “I know it isn’t the thrust of the story. But you were silent through most of it. You gave no comments. I’d like to know a little about what you were thinking and feeling during the process.”

“Thank you,” Tasha smiled. “I can understand that. After all, I wouldn’t be here without the trial.”

“Yes,” Celia said. “So let’s go back to the arrest. Were you initially just arrested for the murder of your father? That was what I understood.”

“That is what I was Mirandized for, but it became clear that they were also looking into others. They had already searched the house and apartment. My father was the first domino, but the others were about to fall.”

“And did that frighten you?”

“I wouldn’t say frighten,” Tasha sat back in her chair. “But once I realized they had found a few strands of connection, mostly compiled by my father, I guess I was...resigned? They wanted to upset me. They wanted a confession spilled out of fear and emotion. That was something I would not give them.”

“So they presented what they had, you made them work for it.”

“I asked for an attorney once it became clear where they were going. Once my attorney was in play, I stayed as tight-lipped as possible. In the beginning, my primary concern was privacy. That privacy was very expensive.”

Celia had wondered about that when the story was breaking. Tasha confirmed her suspicions. Money bought the silence. She wanted to ask how much, but she doubted Tasha would tell her. “So you circled the wagons, so to speak, and let the detectives figure it out without any help from you.”

“That would be a good way to describe it. While they were scrambling and diving for evidence, I was talking with my attorney. He came highly recommended, and he was trustworthy. I told him what I believed would help him. He kept probing until I told him what he needed to know. He was very patient. I do not trust easily. He wanted to use trauma as a defense.”

“Trauma?”

“Yes, the trauma of being assaulted, the trauma of my childhood, not having a mother, the trauma of being used by my father. I didn’t think it would work. However, I was willing to talk to the experts he suggested.”

Celia took a few notes and considered how to carefully word her next question. “Have you ever thought that your privacy and aloofness may have hurt you in the courtroom? That maybe you weren’t as sympathetic as a defendant because you had always been so guarded?”

Tasha sat silently, and Celia wondered if she was offended. She didn’t seem angry, but it was hard to know what the actress was feeling. Celia knew from experience that an absence of emotion sometimes put people off and made a person seem cold. She’d gotten that reaction from others before when she didn’t react in the way they expected to a tragedy or injustice. Being pragmatic had its price.

“I wonder sometimes if being more human, for lack of a better word, might have made a difference. People certainly do seem to rely on emotion, even when they are directed to only consider facts. Would the jury have acted differently if they had known me better? Who knows? It may have had the opposite effect. Neither you nor I are very warm and fuzzy, are we?”

“True,” Celia replied. She didn’t like it when Natasha compared them, but she’d grown used to it over the weeks. “I suppose we could spend time speculating, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference now.”

“Exactly. The attorneys did their jobs, and the jury decided I was guilty. I let my closeness to my father make me stupid. In the end, I can only blame myself for their verdict.”

“And, of course, you did it.”

Natasha laughed. “Well, yes, there is that.” She shifted and leaned forward. “Now I want to ask you, what are you going to do about Bart?”

“I’d rather not talk about that.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out why you are so hesitant to take action. It’s clear that restraining orders and alarm systems aren’t going to stop him. If you can divorce yourself from what is acceptable, surely you can see what is logical.”

“I know you think we are alike, and maybe we are in some ways,” Celia said. “But we are also different. I won’t deny I’ve wanted him dead. I admit that in the past I’ve been ruthless from time to time. But everyone has their line in the sand.”

“And murder is yours,” Tasha said.

“Yes, I guess it is.”

“Even if it costs your own life?”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Tasha sighed and leaned back. “I’m going to miss our interviews.”

“We still have a couple left. Need a cigarette? You usually ask.”

Tasha nodded, and Celia handed her one after she lit it. “I don’t have friends. Well, there’s William, I suppose. But I consider you a friend. Someone I wish I had met before all this.”

“I appreciate that. I know it’s a gift you don’t give many.”

“No, it isn’t,” Tasha agreed. “But it’s a pretty useless gift at this point. It won’t keep me alive, and it won’t solve your problem.”

“True, but still, friendship is