Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 47525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
If I could go back in time, you should know that I’d handle this unfortunate and complex situation with a different, smarter strategy.
I take out my pen and decipher the first couple of lines. Then I circle all the letters until his message is clear.
I need to taste your pussy…
18
SADIE
Back “then”…
“You need to take this plea deal,” my public defender says.
“No.”
“Sadie, they’re offering you seven to fifteen years.”
“Per murder.”
“Yeah. That’s one hell of a deal,” he says. “Even if the judge makes the sentences run consecutively, you’ll have a shot at breathing free air in your sixties or seventies.”
“I prefer the alternative…”
“If we take this to trial and lose, you’re looking at twenty-five to life. Per murder. No parole.”
“You’re talking like you believe I did it.”
“No, I’m talking like I’m trying to give you the best option for your future,” he says. “If you want me to build a defense and reject the deal, fine. But look this over first.”
He hands me a manila envelope.
“Take it back to your cell and pretend you’re a member of the jury. Then sleep on it for three days before telling me what makes the most sense.”
As if that’s the end of the conversation—like my opinion matters less than the crumbs he brushes off his shirt—he slides his laptop across the table.
“I read that you’re a huge art and drama fan, so I downloaded some videos for you to watch before our time’s up.”
He pulls a pack of Skittles from his jacket.
“Oh, and I snuck in some snacks.”
I give him a blank stare.
“This is the part where you tell me ‘thank you,’ Miss Pretty,” he says. “I’m working extremely hard on your behalf.”
I bite my tongue. The only thing I’ve seen him do “extremely hard” is give interviews to the press.
“Can you stop talking to the media for a while?”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” he snaps. “Win or lose, enjoy those Skittles. Because where you’re headed, you probably won’t get to taste them for a long time…”
That night, I lay awake in my cell.
Two older women are yelling about whose turn it is to control the television tomorrow, while the woman across from me screams at the top of her lungs:
“I don’t belong in hereeee! I’m not like these other people! Get me outttt!”
Frustrated, I open the envelope from my lawyer.
It’s full of crime scene photos: Bloody footprints, a photo of my shoes… Video stills of my car in the driveway. Images of me pacing the rose garden—silver knife in hand, and of course, the victims. Again.
Nonsense…
By the time my lawyer calls for an answer on Monday, my decision is easy.
“I’d like to reject their plea deal and go to trial.”
19
DR. WEISS
Day Ten
Sadie’s personal lawyer: Deceased
Sadie’s legal advisor: In hospice, near death
Star witness (saw Sadie walk inside house):
Moved out of state
Members of the original jury: 8/12 available, 4 deceased
Guard who filed and then un-filed a complaint about her coming onto him for ice cream: ????
Ithumb through the list of people I need to investigate with less than a week’s time and suppress a deep sigh. With any other patient—and at this critical stage of the experiment—the staff and legal team would be meeting me in the cabin, armed with research and notes.
I wouldn’t be drowning in these details alone in my office.
The scent of takeout noodles lingers in the air, but it does nothing to cut the pressure in my chest.
“A ninety-nine percent success rate isn’t that bad, Dr. Weiss,” Robin says as she steps into the room, announcing my worst fear.
“You’ll still have one hell of a legacy.” She sets a carton of noodles in front of me. “You’ll still be miles ahead of all your peers.”
Right… I unwrap a fork.
“Just to be clear: if her new lawyer gets the evidence admitted and they eventually drop the charges, she can’t be charged with murder again, correct?”
“Don’t make me run a ‘Delusional Patient’ test on you,” she says. “If you turn out to be legally insane, I’ll have to report you to the medical board.”
“Are you planning to quit on me too?” I’m not in the mood for games today. “I’d rather know now.”
“No, I’m all in.” She shakes her head. “I’ve been obsessed with this batshit crazy woman for years.”
“I would hope so,” I say. “Her story made your former podcast a phenomenon…”
“Yeah, I guess I should be grateful she murdered three people so I could get a story and a great job out of it.”
“You’re welcome.” I let her dry comment slide and stand. “Walk me through Sadie’s wall.”
“Again?”
I shoot her a look, and she rushes to the other side of the room.
She dims the lights in my office, illuminating the twenty-foot wall covered in photos of Sadie, the crime scene, and notes from all her interrogations with lawyers and doctors.