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

wanted to watch me crumble and protest and panic. So I was silent. I may die, and my story will be told. But it will be told on my terms, on my timeline, and it will be told by the person I chose.”

Celia took notes as Tasha watched. “So you made the choices you could make. You took your power by not giving them any.”

“Exactly. My choices were my power.”

Celia nodded, making more notes.

“And now I must ask you something.” Tasha waited until Celia looked up to continue. “I would like for you to be here next week.”

The request didn’t surprise Celia. For whatever reason, Natasha considered her a friend. Celia had never attended an execution, and it wasn’t something she had ever wanted to do. However, she had been thinking about it since her first interview with Tasha. Lethal injection was said to be virtually painless, though Celia doubted that. She would have no interest in watching an electrocution.

“I thought you might ask,” Celia said. “And yes, if it is important to you, I will be there.”

“Thank you. I am not typically sentimental. But I have trusted you with many things. I would like to have you there.”

“I understand.”

“Now for my other question. I need to know you will take some sort of action to stay safe, even if it is extreme.”

“I am taking every precaution,” Celia began.

“I think we both know that isn’t enough. I have told you I would help you if you would like my help.”

“How can you help me? There is nothing you can do from in here.”

“I have some friends. Not many, but a few. They would help you if I asked them. I know you don’t think you can take drastic action. I assure you that you can. You are at least as strong as I am.”

Celia knew what Natasha meant. And it wasn’t as if Celia wasn’t considering it. It was simple for Natasha. She had grown up in a cutthroat world with a father who used violence. Celia understood competition, and she’d bent the rules to get where she was. But she wasn’t like Natasha. It wasn’t about morality or compassion or emotion. Celia wasn’t a killer.

“I understand what you’re trying to do. What you think I should do. And I confess, it would be a solution. It’s one I’ve thought about before. But I can’t. That is one line I can’t cross. Even to save myself.”

Natasha sighed. “I think I knew that. We are the same, but we are different. You aren’t ready. Your own preservation isn’t enough.” She smiled again. “In that case, I would like more cake.”

Celia laughed and cut another slice. They sat in comfortable silence until Keith knocked at the door. Celia gathered her things and stood. She wasn’t sure what to say. What does someone say to a convicted killer who has become a strange type of friend? Especially with a corrections officer listening. “I’ll see you next week, Natasha.”

“Thank you,” Natasha said. “Thank you for the company and conversation. I am glad to know you will handle my story with care. I want to find some way to repay you for that.”

“You can repay me by asking your attorney to find some way to intervene before next Friday.”

Natasha chuckled. “Oh, he’s already trying.”

“Good,” Celia said.

“You know, unless the governor steps in, nothing her lawyer does will help,” Keith said as they walked side by side.

“I know, but it’s just too strange. She’s so calm about the whole thing.”

Keith shrugged. “It’s her way of coping.”

“I guess so.”

The clerk was ready with a plate when they got to the reception area. Celia laughed as she cut a piece and Keith protested it was too big. The receptionist scolded him, called him greedy, and then began eating. There was still 2/3 of a cake on the platter, and Celia called him greedy as well.

William had called during the interview, so once Celia started driving back toward the office, she returned his call.

“How does she seem?” William asked.

“She’s calm, poised, and pragmatic as always.”

“I don’t usually ask about the interviews, I know. But before she was an interview subject, she was my friend. She doesn’t want me to visit. She definitely doesn’t want me there next week.”

“I told her I would be there. She asked.” Celia hesitated. “I’m not sure I’ll feel comfortable writing about that.”

“I understand. If it was Charles Manson, maybe. But, profession aside, I don’t know that I want my friend’s death detailed for the voyeurs.”

“I understand, William. You care about her.” Celia wondered if Natasha had told him that Celia knew their secret. She wasn’t going to ask. “Some things should be kept private.”

“Thank you,” William said hoarsely.

An alert indicated that Celia had another call. She recognized the number of the police department. “I’m getting another call I need to take. I’ll talk to you later this afternoon.” She swiped to answer the call. “This is Celia Brockwell.”

“Yes, Ms. Brockwell. It’s Officer Stanfield. I wanted to let you know that Bart Vandiver is out.”

“Yeah, I figured. I’ll be careful. Is anyone on him?”

“We’re going to be watching. Are you back in your house?”

“I’ll be going back tonight.”

“I don’t suppose I could talk you out of that.”

“No, you, can’t. I’m not letting him disrupt my life.”

“Well, just be vigilant. Make sure that system is on. Do you have any time to come by the station? There are a few things we’ve uncovered, and I’d like to talk to you again.”

“Um, I don’t have anything for a couple of hours. Is now okay? It’ll be about 20 minutes.”

“That’ll work.”

Celia ended the call. What had they found? Bart was out, so she’d have to watch her back. She knew they wouldn’t hold him long. He’d make bail, which wasn’t very high, and he would either back off or not back off. Celia hoped it was the latter. She thought about Tasha and her advice. Even though Celia had accepted that she and Tasha shared a common...dispassionate rationality,