Trial And Error | A Jeff The Killer Romance

Prologue

Charlotte had always known that such a day would come— the day when she would encounter that very thing she feared the most. She had always known, too, that not every condemned criminal  would fall to their knees and beg her to deliver them from the cold, callous hands of the law.

But because it had always been this way, because she had always been the only light at the end of their dark, dismal tunnel, she'd had little reason to believe that dignity actually existed on death row.

For years, she had thrived on that feeling of being needed, that feeling of being the very difference between life and death for a prisoner. Her entire existence was centered around the absolute power her profession gave her, and she'd never once acted outside her own self-interest.

Up until that very moment, Charlotte had always held the reigns on the chariot of her pride. She'd held her head high so that the words "arrogant" and "repulsive" did not reach her ears. 

Her flitting green eyes, dusty gems pressed into a freckled, orange face, had held a vanity and self-assurance that never wavered in even the most adverse of moments, and her nose, small and twitching, held its place suspended far above other people.

Her entire countenance had been an infallible bastion against any opposition, be it in the courtroom or in the real world, that came her way.

Infallible, until she met its demise in the Meadowbrooke County Jail  on that fateful Tuesday afternoon.

Charlotte had realized, immediately, from the intensity of his gaze and the mocking light in his eyes that, unlike the clients she had encountered before, this one was far from awed by her reputation.

In fact, everything about him mocked her, almost dared her to try and assert dominance over him. 

He didn't greet her with the desperation and gratitude that she'd expect of someone in his position. Instead, he'd just stared at her, a grotesque smile forming on his face as she froze in bewilderment at his insolent, non-nonchalant demeanor.

Then, when she took finally took a step forward, she felt as if his eyes were stripping away the many layers of foundation she used to mask the imperfections of her face. 

Another step, she felt as if he had seen through her expensive clothing and excessive jewelry and witnessed the unremarkable nothing underneath the lavish exterior.

At the final step, she was almost sure she had seen her deepest secrets being reflected in his eyes, and when he smiled, a grotesque, cut in smile that stretched from ear to ear, she took a step back, clutching her briefcase tightly.

This was the first meeting, and Charlotte would never forget the first words he said to her:

"Oh my. I never thought it was possible, but it seems you're even uglier in person. . ."