Chosen by a Killer by Laurie Nave (read e book txt) 📗

Celia studied the writing, trying to play a guessing game with herself. The script looked vaguely familiar.

After ripping the envelope, Celia turned to the last page of the handwritten letter. She wanted to know who had sent it before reading; it was a practice she’d begun early in her career. When she saw the name, her curiosity skyrocketed. It was from Natasha Bronlov.

Celia didn’t know the famous model and actress personally, but she knew her work. She’d seen a couple of movies. The Oscar-winner was supremely talented. However, it was Natasha’s arrest and conviction that truly made her a household name. In 2007, the world watched as Natasha was arrested, tried, and convicted of the murder of five men, the last of whom was her father. The evidence was overwhelming, and it had only taken the jury three hours to come back with a guilty verdict.

The sentencing had been another shock. In an age where the death penalty was more and more controversial, the judge sentenced the actress to death by lethal injection. “Yes,” Celia thought aloud, “I’m definitely reading this letter.”

Dear Ms. Brockwell:

I am sure you are somewhat surprised to receive correspondence from me. I will, therefore, come to the point. As I am sure you are aware, my last appeal was denied, and so it seems that my execution will take place soon. I loathe the vultures of the press and have declined to give them a single breadcrumb of my story. However, I have followed you and your career closely for quite a few years, and I have immense respect for you.

The flattery was obvious, something Celia might have done herself. Still, it made the reporter smile to think of the actress sitting on death row, reading her articles.

I understand that you prefer to maintain a distance from the stories on which you report. This, in my opinion, has been one of the reasons you excel. However, I would like to grant one authentic telling of my story before I am executed by the state of Delaware, and I would like you to conduct that series of interviews.

Celia smiled; Natasha had read her mind. Celia didn’t do melodrama and emotion, which is what a story about an immigrant beauty turned serial killer would need. This story would be the only story; Natasha hated the press. Why choose a facts-only writer, Celia wondered as she continued to read.

I am sure you are puzzled by my request, but I believe you to be the only one who can correctly tell my story. I ask that you consider my request, as I would very much like to meet you and speak with you.

So Natasha Bronlov wanted Celia to conduct not just one interview, but a series. After closing the door to the press following her arrest, the actress was swinging it wide open, but only for one journalist—Celia. She imagined the faces of her colleagues, especially John.

I do not want this story released until after my execution. This will not be a sordid retelling of the crimes’ physical details. All of those were available during the trial. I ask for the utmost discretion and that no details be released until the series is finished. I have included an outline and tentative calendar, which of course can be adjusted to accommodate your prior engagements.

The letter closed with contact details for her lead attorney, along with procedures for drawing up a contract. If Celia took the story, she would have three months to conduct the interviews. Three months to get to know an enigma and tell her story. It wasn’t a lot of time.

However, Celia could hardly resist. It would be the crime story of the century, and she would be the only reporter who would ever be given true access to the actress’s life. This would be the one that propelled Celia’s career to world-famous status. She couldn’t turn away the opportunity to interview the nation’s most beautiful psychopath.

As she crawled into bed, Celia reread the letter. She wasn’t telling John about this. She wasn’t telling anyone. And first thing tomorrow, she was calling Andrew, Natasha’s attorney. She picked up her tablet and crafted an email before turning out her light.

AT 10:00 THE NEXT MORNING, Celia was on hold, waiting to speak with Natasha’s attorney. As the poorly chosen music played over the phone, she doodled on her notepad. She had a scheduled call to discuss the particulars of her first interview with Tasha, and in typical fashion, the lead attorney was keeping her waiting. She was used to the tactic; he wanted her to know who was in charge. However, after having read the initial correspondence and tentative contract, Celia knew exactly who was in charge: Natasha Bronlov. Oh, she was demure enough to let the attorney believe he was, but Celia recognized the ruse; it was one she had used several times in her own career. Powerful men generally liked to believe they held sway over an attractive woman, even if they did not, and it was often advantageous to let them believe it.

“Hello, Ms. Brockwell.” The attorney’s voice was deep and well-crafted. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting. I trust you have had time to go over the tentative contract and the requirements for visiting Mr. Bronlov.”

“I have, Mr. McMillian,” Celia answered. “I’d like to know what to expect when I enter the prison.”

“Yes, well,” the attorney paused and sounded surprised by her directness. “I suppose we can discuss that first. Of course, you will not be allowed a computer, and you will likely be searched. You may, however, bring a recording device. I would also be happy to assist you with notes.”

Celia spun away from the phone, smiling, and looked out the window behind her desk. He was already negotiating. “It was my understanding that Ms. Bronlov did not want anyone else in the room while we conducted our interviews,” she said.

“I had hoped we could encourage her to compromise on that point,