“Oh, I am proud, Libs—I mean, Elizabeth. It’s just…if you become a private investigator…maybe you could help me.”
“Help you? How on earth could I help you? I’m not going to spy on people for you or do your dirty work, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
He leaned forward and placed his palms on the table. “Your mom told you I had something to tell you, didn’t she?”
“Yes. But I thought you already told me. You apologized for Merle, and I’ve forgiven you—for that, at least.”
“Yes, that was part of it. But there’s something else. Something no one in this world knows. Something I’ve never told a soul and swore I never would. But now…”
“Now what? What’s changed? What makes you want to divulge this big secret all of a sudden? Whatever it is.”
“Because now I see hope. For the past twenty years, you wouldn’t even talk to me, let alone come visit me. You told me I was dead to you. But now, if there’s even the slightest chance that we could have any kind of relationship…”
“Randy, I said I forgave you for Merle, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to forgive you for, well, you know…”
“That’s the thing, kiddo. What if I told you that not everything you think you know is true? What if I told you there was more to the story?”
“You mean more to the story of how you killed at least nine women? What more could there possibly be?”
He leaned even closer and looked over his shoulder. The guards weren’t really paying much attention to us even though we were probably now physically closer than we were supposed to be. I leaned in too, out of nothing more than morbid curiosity.
“What if I told you I’m innocent?”
I sat back and shook my head. “Don’t do this, Randy. Please, don’t do this.”
“I’m not messing with you, Elizabeth. I’m truly asking you. What would you say if I told you I never killed any of those women?”
“I’d say you pled guilty in open court. You stood before the judge, before me, before Mom, and told us all how you strangled nine prostitutes because they were ‘abominations!’ That’s what I’d say.”
“Elizabeth, everything is not always as it seems. Let me ask you a question. When you were being prosecuted for Ryan’s murder, your mother said you were offered a plea deal. Did you not even consider it? Especially since you were facing the death penalty?”
He had a point. I had considered taking the deal. But I never had to make that choice because of the way everything happened that night.
“What are you saying, Randy?”
“I’m saying, Elizabeth, that I did not kill those women. I’ve never killed anyone in my life. And I want you to help get me out of here.”
THE END
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Acknowledgements
To my mother, Alicia Broaddus, an amazingly talented author/illustrator - thank you for inspiring me to follow my dreams. Thank you for supporting me all these years in every way possible and for helping me get past my writer’s block so many times. I can never repay you.
To my father, Tom Broaddus, my knight in shining armor - thank you for the choice you made all those years ago. All men should be as generous, patient, loving, kind, and devoted as you. You make me laugh all the time and you make me proud to call you Daddy.
To my sister, Lauren Metelski, another amazing writer - you are the best mother I know (besides Mom, of course) and I’m so glad that over the last few years we’ve grown closer. I’m so proud to be your big sister, but sometimes I feel like our roles are reversed. Kiss Eleanora, Fiona, Liev and Yury for me.
To my best girlfriend, Danielle, my supportive peacock - I’m so glad I met you at PPLO all those years ago. Thank you for being an avid reader and supporter of my writing. Your advice on my books (and everything else in my crazy life) is invaluable. Time for that girls’ trip!
To my husband, Wes, my best friend and partner - thank you for being patient while I took up the living room with my writing. Thanks for letting me bounce my thoughts of you and for your invaluable ideas. I’ll love Alpacas forever.
To my daughter, Grace, the artist -you are my firstborn baby girl. Know that I am ever so proud of you in everything you do. Mommy loves you.
To my daughter, Maddie, my little me - you are beautiful and talented and smart and I know that all of your dreams will come true. Mommy loves you.
To the following friends and family: Jena King, Sonja Thomas, Letitia King, Donna & Mike Morgan, Angie Tijerina, Daffney Banta (KASA Salon), Toni Lynn Smith (Purple Pig Photography), Al Borne (Borne Investigations)…you have all supported me in your own unique ways and I appreciate it more than you know.
In Loving Memory – James Foster King, Isazelle Broaddus and Billy (Billy Pop) Broaddus.
Finally, to anyone and everyone in my life not named above who has supported my writing, especially my Fabulous Facebook Friends and Tremendous Twitter Followers, you have my sincerest thanks.
About the Author
Christina Morgan was raised in suburban Central Kentucky in a family full of right-brainers. With a photographer/artist for a grandfather and an author/illustrator for a mother, she was bound to turn out on the creative side of the spectrum. She honed her writing skills in school, winning awards for her essays and short stories. Christina tried her hand at about every sport imaginable, which only went to prove that her efforts were better spent in other creative outlets such as art, singing, and writing. But it was writing that really stuck with her and she spent the next several years trying her hand at writing fiction novels, just for the fun of it.
She took a break for a while and focused on putting herself through paralegal school while raising two amazing Irish twin girls. She quickly learned that being a certified paralegal was the best career choice she could have made. On top of all of the cool cases she has worked on over the years, she was able to write original legal documents autonomously. When a national magazine for attorneys approached her in 2013 to write a short story for them about the life of a paralegal, she jumped on the chance. When the article was published and garnered her some amazing feedback, she realized how much she missed writing for leisure. She sat down and wrote her very first full-length fiction novel that year and hasn’t stopped writing since.
She loves reading (all genres except sci-fi), folk music, caramel macchiatos, puppies, thunderstorms, antique jewelry, dragonflies, the color purple (not the movie), and enjoys a large sweet tea from McDonald’s every single day.
Christina Morgan lives in Nicholasville, Kentucky with her husband and two teenage daughters, three dogs (one of which is blind and has only three legs), and two cats (one of which is still relatively feral.)
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