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

down the road. Have a late lunch. Take a walk.” Keith smiled. “Just be back before the protest crowd gets too big. Otherwise, I may have to carry you inside...like Kevin carried Whitney.”

Celia’s eyes went wide, and she punched him in the arm. “You eavesdropping ass!”

He walked away laughing, and Celia decided to take his advice.

At 7:30, Celia wove her way through a group of protesters outside the fence. She gave her pass to the guard at the gate, and he let her inside. After signing the register again and surrendering her personal items, Keith was waiting for her.

“I’ll take you to the family waiting area. It will be away from the others.”

“Others?” Celia asked. “Are there any others?”

“There are a couple of detectives, someone from the DA’s office. There are also a few family members of victims.”

Celia hadn’t considered family members. It had been over a decade but she’d only heard Natasha’s version of the murders and the victims. Of course, they had spouses, siblings, even children who were still grieving and wanted to see justice done.

The family area had a better coffee maker, nicer furniture, and no snack machine. I guess no one has an appetite for stale cookies at this point. There were a few inspirational books, the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and the Koran. For the atheists in foxholes. Natasha would appreciate the irony.

“We can go to the observatory now.” A guard Celia had never seen before opened the door and gestured for her to follow him.

They walked down a hallway, and Celia tried to step gently to soften the echo of her heels on the tile. The guard was silent, and though Celia wanted to fill the space, the small talk stuck in her throat.

Several heads turned as the guard opened the door and ushered Celia into the theater-style room. She avoided their gazes, hoping no one would recognize her. She didn’t want to lock eyes with a victim’s family member. Instead, she looked down at the cement steps as she walked to the front row.

Celia had spent some time researching the lethal injection process. Initially, it was for the story, but now she wished she didn’t know so much. While she studied the out-of-date curtains, she thought about what was taking place behind them. There would be a gurney, and the warden, at least one guard, and medical professionals would be prepared. In a separate area, a few people would be waiting to press a series of buttons. None of them would know who had administered the poison. Celia wondered how it would feel to be one of those people, if not knowing would be enough to assuage their guilt.

Her head began to ache as the curtains opened. Natasha was there, and she found Celia’s gaze immediately. There was no trace of the emotion Celia had seen earlier; she just nodded at the reporter.

Ring! Ring, dammit! Celia screamed inwardly at the white 1980s relic on the cinderblock wall. Natasha smiled, and Celia smiled back. Part of her wanted the actress to sit up and rip the IVs from her arms, break into a dramatic monologue, something. Instead, she lay there as her boy relaxed and her eyes began to close, surrendering to the barbiturate.

Once Natasha’s eyes closed, it was over. Celia knew the actress's body was being paralyzed, and her heart was going into cardiac arrest even as Celia’s own heart was thudding behind her sternum, which was still sore from the accident.

And then the doctor pronounced Natasha deceased. The curtain closed, people began to file out of the room, but Celia sat, fighting off nausea. She allowed Keith to help her out of the creaky chair. He led her up the steps toward the door.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked.

Celia didn’t hear him. She was already on her way to the ladies’ room, hoping to make it before she began to vomit. She did, but just barely.

Once her stomach was empty, Celia stood and walked to the sink. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” Celia whispered to herself as she splashed water onto her face and took some deep breaths. Her legs felt like over-boiled pasta, but she felt certain she wouldn’t throw up anymore.

Keith was talking with Andrew when Celia left the restroom. They both looked at her, Keith with concern and Andrew with disappointment.

“Do you need anything?” Keith asked quietly. He handed her the purse and other belongings.

She nodded.

“Ms. Brockwell, may I speak with you?”

Keith left them alone, and Celia sat on a bench.

“Is this the first execution you’ve witnessed?” Andrew sat next to her.

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s a difficult thing. I probably should have prepared you better.”

Celia shook her head. “I don’t think that was possible, but thank you.”

“I need to give you this. Natasha didn’t want it inspected.” He handed her a business envelope with her name written in Natasha’s script.

Celia took the envelope and placed it in her purse. “Thank you.”

Andrew nodded and walked away.

“Ready to go?” Keith asked. “You okay to drive?”

“I’m fine,” Celia stood and smoothed her pants. “I just want to go home.”

“I’ll walk you back to your car.”

Keith’s voice sounded muffled as nausea hit Celia again. Her ears rang loudly, and she couldn’t swallow the sour taste. She turned to grab Keith’s arm for support, and everything went black.

Chapter 35

Keith was talking to someone, a woman. The voices faded in and out, but Celia could hear Keith asking questions and the woman’s voice answering.

“It’s strange that she seemed fine for days and then passed out.”

“Every concussion is different. She seemed agitated last night, so we gave her something to help her sleep. She should be –“The woman saw Celia try to sit up. “Ah, you’re awake! Ms. Brockwell, just lie back. Don’t try to sit up.”

Celia realized she was in a hospital room. She was wearing a blue gown, which meant someone had undressed and dressed her. Ugh, great. An IV line was taped to her arm, and several sticky pads monitored her heart rate.