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

“Collect call from Baylor Women’s Correctional Facility for Celia Bronlov from an inmate. Do you accept the charges?”

“Yes,” Celia answered, dropping the dishtowel she’d been using and sitting at the table.

“Is this Celia?”

“Natasha? I didn’t think you could make calls.”

“I can’t. Thanks to our friend who bent the rules, I have just a few minutes. There is information you need.”

“What kind of information?”

“Your Bart is a financial attorney, yes?”

“Yes,” Celia sat a bit straighter.

“I have limited contact with others, but I need you to know that he attempted to visit a prisoner today. Another woman on death row.”

“What? Who? When was this?”

“It was yesterday. It was caught because she told the officer he was not her attorney. I don’t know how he thought he could fool someone. I don’t know how he knew who to try to visit. But I do know that he was trying to visit her.”

Celia sighed and took the phone off speaker. “Oh my god.”

“I don’t have long. But you needed to know. I was not sure Keith would tell you.”

“He probably would have.”

“Yes, but he would not tell you this. If you want help, I will help you. Men like this Bart must be dealt with.”

“I appreciate that. I need to call Keith. I probably need to make sure the police know as well.”

“I can’t talk more. But I knew you would want to know.” Tasha hung up the phone.

Celia sat quietly for a moment, trying to decide what to process first. A death row inmate had just called her on the phone. Bart tried to access the prison. A murderer just offered to help her. She had to chuckle. This is why I don’t do drama and emotional stories. Whatever Celia decided to do, it wouldn’t be done tonight, she thought. So she walked back into the kitchen and finished the frosting. She’d let the cake cool overnight and frost it in the morning before she went to work.

At 1:00 pm, Celia was walking down the prison hallway to Room 4 for the last time, carrying a homemade cake. The clerk had allowed her to bring paper plates this time, along with two plastic spoons, providing she returned the spoons. Keith made it clear he expected a large piece of the cake after her interview, and Celia promised he could have whatever was left over after the clerk had a slice. This time when he opened the door, Natasha was waiting, and she clapped when she saw the cake.

“I was hoping you remembered. I didn’t want to miss my last dessert.”

“Well that’s certainly morbid,” Celia replied. She set up her recorder and then cut a piece of cake for the actress.

“This time you must have a piece too. I will not eat alone today.”

“Okay, you twisted my arm,” Celia laughed. “I confess red velvet is my favorite.”

“And appropriately macabre, don’t you think?”

Celia shook her head as she took a bite of the cake. She knew Tasha was stoic, but Celia wasn’t sure she was truly as flippant as she tried to appear. This was their last interview. She had less than two weeks to live, barring a last-minute reprieve, which was not likely to come. However, she’d let the actress play her part. They both enjoyed the cake in silence.

“So what is today’s topic?” Natasha asked as she finished her last bite.

“Honestly, I didn’t make a plan. Though I would like to know what you are thinking. I’d like to know if, knowing what you know now, you would have done anything differently.”

“Ah, yes, deathbed regrets.”

“Not quite that trite. Just some last assessments of your situation, I guess. What do you want readers to know?”

Tasha slowly licked the last of the icing off the spoon and slid the empty plate to Celia. “The readers will conclude what they will conclude. However, your question about what I would do differently is interesting. It’s something I have considered many times over the last decade.

“I don’t regret killing any of them, not really. But I do wish I had given more thought to my father. I could have avoided that mistake had I not allowed anger to drive me. I could have made him pay in other ways. Taking action without thinking things through is foolish. That is the main reason I am here.”

“So you believe they deserved to die?”

“That is a moral judgment, which I didn’t expect of you,” Tasha said. “What do any of us deserve or not deserve? Did I deserve to be at risk? Did I deserve to have my privacy invaded, to be assaulted? Actions have consequences. Tom’s actions in high school ended with the consequences in the parking garage. When Julian betrayed me and his ethics, he had to know there would be consequences. And even me. When I killed my father out of anger, I chose these consequences. I knew it when I was arrested, and I chose to control the way I responded.”

“Surely it isn’t that simple,” Celia countered.

“Why not? Isn’t that how you approach your stories? A CEO is deceptive and unethical. It is logical that he should suffer the consequences.”

“I’m not talking about cause and effect. I’m talking about the pragmatic way you appear to be reacting. If these men truly deserved to die, then doesn’t being put to death over it make you angry? Doesn’t it seem unjust? I guess I expect more...fight? Rebellion? Something.”

Natasha smiled. “For most of my life, others wanted something from me. I wanted something from them. This is how we live. I wanted the things I wanted, so I did what I needed to do. I gave others, including my own father, what they wanted when it benefitted me. And when I didn’t want to give, I withheld. The public wanted to know things about me that were none of their business, so I was silent. The police wanted to know why, they wanted me to incriminate myself, so I was silent. When there was no recourse left, they