Chosen by a Killer Laurie Nave (best novel books to read .txt) 📖

“Oh yes, very,” Natasha replied. “We spent a lot of time together.”

“Was there a rivalry between you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Natasha said.

Oh, yes you are. “I mean, you were both young, both new talent. I know you worked together a lot, but surely there were times when you competed. Did that affect your friendship?”

“Not at all,” Natasha quickly answered. “As I said, we spent much time together, and we did most of our work together. Each of us did other things too, of course, but that is part of the business.”

Celia paused and reviewed her notes. “Yes, you did work together very regularly until your first runway show. The two of you competed for that spot.”

Natasha shook her head. “We did not so much compete as understand that there would not be room for both of us. It happens at work.” Natasha spread her hands on the table. “ In the end, the producers selected me because Margaret was in the hospital.”

“That’s right. Relapse of an eating disorder, I believe.”

“Such a shame. We discussed her concern over weight gain. I had noticed that her eating habits had become laxer. To stay competitive, you must be vigilant about your size. I suppose knowing she was teetering on the edge sent her into more anorexia.”

Celia wrote quickly in her notebook. “In the end, that show was a turning point in your career.”

“It was. I knew it would be.” Natasha sighed. “But do you truly want to know about my modeling career? It became boring.”

“I’m just laying a bit of a foundation. The more I understand about your early life and career, the more I can understand what came after.”

“You mean the murders.”

“Yes,” Celia replied. “You must know one of the biggest questions people ask in these crimes is what made the person into a murderer. They all want to recognize the signs.”

Natasha laughed. “Yes, they think if they can unlock the psychological mystery, they can catch people early or prevent crimes.”

“It’s a popular subject that fascinates many. More than one television series has cashed in on the fascination.”

“Those television shows,” Natasha laughed. “They do all seem to fit a certain caricature, don’t they?”

“Of course. The exaggerations make it dramatic. People make a study of the psychology of murder. Of course, the goal of my piece isn’t to psychoanalyze serial killers. I only want to understand you.”

“I wonder if you could understand,” Natasha mused. “None of the other reporters who begged to interview me would have. They were so focused on the tragedy, the drama. They wanted to use their gift with words to elicit some display of emotion, I am sure. You know how some journalists love making their subjects cry.”

Celia laughed at that. It was true that many of her colleagues felt a story wasn’t a story unless it had made someone cry or someone angry. It was one of the reasons journalism had stopped being what it used to be: reporting of facts. Celia never understood it. “True. And that isn’t the kind of story you wanted.”

“Not at all,” Natasha said firmly. “I do not want my entire life dissected with emotion. Languishing and hand-wringing change nothing about the past or the future.” Natasha sat back and folded her arms. “Okay, it’s your turn again. What about you? How did your career begin?”

“My story isn’t nearly as interesting.”

“Somehow I don’t agree. Everyone’s career has decisive moments, turning points. I would be interested in hearing about yours. After all—” Natasha spread her hands—“Who am I going to tell?”

The final knock came, and Keith walked into the room. Smiling, Celia tapped her notebook with the end of her pen. “Maybe next time. I appreciate you talking with me. I’ll see you next week?”

“I very much look forward to it,” Natasha said. A second officer walked in and escorted Natasha out of the room, and then Keith walked with Celia to the security doors.

Once back in the waiting area, the desk clerk gave back her phone and purse. Celia placed the recorder and notebook in her bag, waved to the clerk, and exited the building. Driving to her hotel, she assessed the initial interview. It had almost been boring. Somehow Celia had expected more. She thought the actress might toy with her or probe her for more personal information. True, Natasha had asked about her early career, but she didn’t push. She’d probably ask again, though. You’ve watched Silence of the Lambs too many times, Celia.

Celia settled into her hotel room and ordered room service. Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it. She’d received quite a few messages since the CEO expose came out, and she was tired of responding “no comment” or reminding one of the businessman’s attorneys that he was the one who granted the interview and spilled his secrets. Was it Celia’s fault the man had no self-control? There were also the usual bleeding hearts wanting her to advocate on their behalf. That wasn’t what Celia did. She told the story. She knew her manner seemed cold to some of her colleagues. But emotion cheapened a story, Celia believed. Getting emotionally involved was not part of the job.

Her room service order came, and as Celia ate her salad, she listened to the recording. There were always things she noticed about conversations after the fact that helped her compose the next interview. In this case, Natasha had revealed a little more than Celia thought. From the tone and mood of her voice to the way she stated things, there were clues in what she said. Natasha’s tone was controlled throughout much of the interview, but there were a few times she sounded tense or as if she was working out what to say. Celia paused the recording when she came to the part about Margaret and her relapse. Something about it seemed off as if Natasha wasn’t saying everything.

“We discussed her concern over weight gain. I had noticed that her eating habits had