Red Leather (Book 2)

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

 

My trials were to be held in America.

Following the news of my capture was a media sensation – somehow, the news of Nathan's abduction, along with the rest of my history, has resulted in a phenomenon that surpassed even that of the Alfred kidnappings. Moving from a Brazilian prison to a private US-owned jet received all the media coverage in the world. I used a towel to hide my face, though I knew it would make little difference.

The whole world knew who I was.

Having kept it a secret for so long, the freedom to say it out loud was still strange to me. How often could one say that they had killed a dozen people and smuggled one out of the country? But now there was no use in hiding. My life was an open book to the world, and it both angered and thrilled me.

It thrilled me because my successes were finally being known. And whether for good or bad, I would go down in history as one of the most ruthless teen killers the world would ever see.  I would be studied in textbooks, talked about for decades, and be used as comparison against criminals that would come and go.

Al Capone, John Dillinger, Patty Hearst. I would be amongst legends.

For months all I could do was simply await my trial patiently, knowing that a life sentence was my only option. All the lawyers in the world wouldn't be able to slide this one under the rug.

Yet I felt nothing. The rage and hysteria that followed Eli's betrayal had diminished within me, and somehow I felt calmer than ever. My master plan had failed. I had been caught by the police, and was now awaiting maximum-security prison. The life that I had dreamt of before – a life with Nathan, living in a little place with an Eiffel Tower view with chocolate croissants laid out on the table – was only but a dream.

This was the life of a notorious killer.

Did I regret the things I did? Absolutely not. Every single one of my victims deserved what had come to them, from the bunny right to Georgia May. I had accomplished what I set out to do – to set Alistair ablaze, and paint my name on every road and streetlight. Now I had done just that.

Even still, I felt nothing.

And as I travelled back to America with a security force that could rival the President's, moving from prison to prison, eating tasteless food and sleeping in small, hard mattresses, I knew that it wouldn't last for long. I would fight the system, but if there was one thing Eli had taught me, it was the value of patience. How else would he have gotten away with what he did?

I needed to be patient. I needed a good poker face. And most of all, I needed my father.

***

My only taste of the outside world would come via a small period of time where I would be allowed visitors, just before my trial would commence.

I waited amongst the grimy visitor's booth, my face merely visible through the slits of the metal bars. Two heavily armed guards stood behind me, watching and waiting as they always did. Now all I had to do was sit and pass the time.

My first visitor was the last person I expected to see.

 Jessabel Griffin was the picture of serenity as she took the seat opposite me, her blue eyes watchful and patient. I felt a jolt of hatred at the sight of her, disgusted by the fact that she was alive. Disgusted by the way she had uncovered my hidden life, piece by piece. And the worst part was that there was no Eli to blame. Jess's death had been my responsibility, and I had failed.