A Second Chance at Life by Genevieve McCluer

Author:Genevieve McCluer [McCluer, Genevieve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2023-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Yet again, I’m sitting on an uncomfortable bench in a government building, though this time, only in the second nicest clothes I own. Rachel bought me a silk floral dress. It looks professional and nonthreatening. That seemed to be important. I have to look like the innocent girl I used to be.

She and I still haven’t really talked. She’s visited every week, and I’ve called her every day that I could spare, but the conversations have been even more surface level than usual. We talk about our days and say we love each other a million times, but we can’t go into any details when the call is probably being monitored, and neither of us have had the courage to bring up my mother again. I wonder if Rachel’s really stopped talking to her.

I tap my foot, looking down the hallway, empty save for Landrey leaning against a wall. I feel bad for how much I’ve scrambled his brains. The man was the witness at my wedding, that has to mean something, even if he is a guard. It doesn’t mean I’m willing to talk to him, but I should maybe brainwash him a little less. I guess he likes doing transport, or maybe no one else likes working with him.

At least if today goes right, he won’t have to be compelled anymore. I’ll be free.

I tighten my fists. I want to grip the bench, but I’d crush it, and that would be a terrible look. My nails dig into my palms, and a trickle of blood comes out. I’m not used to having that much in me, but Mrs. Gudaitiene gave me some before the hearing.

What the hell am I going to say?

How can I possibly convince them that I deserve to go free? I’m still a cop killer. I’m still a murderous monster, and someone just like me killed two women in my cottage with no explanation.

They finally let us back in the cottage yesterday. I can’t help but worry one of them will be dead when I get back. Maybe whatever vampire was using that cottage as his personal deli has finally moved on. I have to hope so. We’re doing a big finale for our campaign tonight if I make parole, and I want to give their characters the happy endings they deserve. If one of them is dead, I can’t really do that.

I lean forward, looking toward the nearby door. I think it’s the right place. How is it still not time? It feels like I’ve been waiting for hours.

And what about Rachel? If I’m going home, that means I’d be going home to her. She may even be here; hell, maybe she’s talking to them right now. I’m still not super clear on the whole process. I know I make my case, but I don’t know if I’m the only one who does. I breathe in and detect a faint hint of lilac and vampire. She must be here, but there are other scents too.

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