She was not surprised to see a message from Keith, even though it was only 7:00 am. She pulled on her terry cloth robe and dialed his number.
“Celia, you’re already awake?”
“You sent me a message.”
“I hope it didn’t wake you, I just wanted to make sure you woke up.”
“You realize that makes no sense at all, don’t you?”
“Whatever. How did you sleep?”
“Like a rock. I drugged myself and didn’t move until 6:00.”
“Ha! So I didn’t wake you up!”
“No, you didn’t, but 6:00 am is a one-off for me, just so you know.” Celia moved to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. “Is everything quiet there?”
“I don’t go in until 9:00 today. But I’ll be there until almost midnight.”
“Wow, why so late?”
“Paperwork. Not to be an ass, but execution days are murder.”
Celia wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t. Instead, she put an extra spoonful of Splenda into her coffee and stirred.
“Oh god, Celia, I’m sorry.”
“No problem. I’m making coffee.”
“What time will you be here?”
“My visiting time is 1:00, but I may get there early. I’d like to talk with her attorney. I was thinking 11:00.”
“I figure he’ll be here all day. She actually has a few people on her list, starting at 10:00.”
Celia was surprised. Except for Andrew, William, and herself, she couldn’t think of anyone Natasha had even mentioned in her interviews who was still alive. The morbid thought punched her in the stomach, and she poured the rest of her coffee down the sink.
“Celia, are you still there?”
“I am. I’m going to try to do a little work before I go to the prison. I figure I’ll get ready here, go to the office for a couple of hours, and then head there.”
“Are you sure you want to go to work today?”
“Yeah, I need to. I haven’t been there since the accident. I need to get a few things done.” Celia’s head began to ache. “Which means I probably need to go ahead and get started.”
“I’ll let you go then. I’ll see you when you get there.”
Celia filled her coffee mug again, this time black, and grabbed a slice of homemade bread. She popped a couple of ibuprofen and started her morning routine. Once her hair and makeup were done, she stared at the contents of her closet. What do I wear to an execution? Natasha would kill her if she wore black. After sliding a few outfits back and forth along the rack, she decided on a navy blue and tan hound’s-tooth jacket with dark pants. After choosing dark pumps and a blouse, she put them on while sipping the dregs of her coffee.
Gladys was watering plants when Celia arrived. “Good morning! How are you feeling? Still sore?”
“I’m much better, thanks. Just ready to get my car back. The rental isn’t my style.” Gladys chuckled, and Celia walked into her office and closed the door. In lieu of the fluorescent lighting, she turned on the small lamp at her desk. The hum of the lights would probably give her a headache. She saw her voicemail light blinking but decided to check email first.
Celia,
I wasn’t sure you’d be in today, so I am canceling our regular meeting today at 10:00 am. I may see you this afternoon.
William
Celia wasn’t surprised William canceled the meeting. She was, however, curious about what he meant by seeing her this afternoon. Has he changed his mind about going to the execution? Can he even do that this late? She assumed he was cryptic because he was using his work email.
“Celia,” Julia knocked and then stuck her head inside the door. “You busy?”
“Not too busy. Come on in.”
“I heard about your accident. I’m glad you are okay.” Julia sat and leaned forward. “You’re okay, right?
“I am. Just a little sore.”
“Your brakes locked? I bet that was scary. Glad it wasn’t worse. Did you get a rental?”
“I did. They gave me a Prius. It was all they had.”
“Well, at least you’ll get good gas mileage.”
“True. You always find the silver lining.”
“I try. Have you seen William? Don’t you have a meeting with him?”
“He canceled it. Must have something else to do.”
Julia nodded. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. We should do lunch next week.”
“Sounds good.”
Once Julia left, Celia locked her door and tried to focus on email. There was an email notifying her that a meeting was canceled. Two staff members sent drafts of upcoming stories. Celia opened one and tried to read it. She stared at the first paragraph, reading it three times before giving up. Reading articles would have to wait.
“Gladys,” Celia buzzed her assistant. “Other than the meeting with William, my day was clear, right?”
“It is. You said you’d be leaving before lunch for an appointment, so I cleared everything.”
“Thanks.” Celia hung up and rubbed her temples. Why did I try to work today? Because I didn’t want to be stuck at home. Sighing, she opened the folder named “NB Interviews.” After putting in her earbuds, she began clicking each one in chronological order.
For the next hour, Celia listened to bits and pieces of all the interviews. The first one, when it was obvious they were sizing each other up and Natasha was deciding whether she could trust the reporter. The generalities of Celia’s life that she shared with the killer to keep her talking. Then there was the comfortable banter, and the venting Celia did when Bart became a nuisance. The journey from two strangers to friends and confidantes was right there in 12 sound files on Celia’s laptop.
Of course, not all the details were there. The farther along they got in the interview process, the more often Celia agreed to turn off the recorder to protect Natasha’s privacy or her own. There were no recorded details about Natasha’s mother or the fact that William was her brother. Their conversation about
