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There was no chance of him getting off or getting out on some technicality. He wouldn’t get the chance to have those lunatics who fall in love with serial killers fawning all over him, putting money on his books, sending him love letters, even marrying him while in prison.
He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing himself occasionally on the news in the future.
He didn’t deserve any of that.
And, yeah, there was a selfish part of me that was glad for Mari, who would never have to face him on trial.
And, of course, to a much smaller degree, the worry about the trial bringing up the inappropriateness of my relationship with Mari during the course of my investigation of that asshole.
Now that he was gone, it wouldn’t matter that we were together. It was fine once a case was closed. And people would even understand how we could have developed feelings during or immediately after this sort of situation.
The chief and D.A. had been pissed, of course.
Everyone wanted to see the guy on trial.
They’d even launched an investigation into the medical team treating him, wondering if he wasn’t getting the best care because of his reputation.
In the end, though, it was concluded that the sepsis had brewed not from his most recent encounter with Mari, but the first one. When she’d stabbed him.
He hadn’t sought medical treatment, choosing instead to treat himself.
The infection grew slowly.
Then, eventually, the sepsis set in.
Due to the extent of the damage to his organs from it, there really was just no saving him.
I went ahead and called that an act of God, who knew that the law couldn’t kill him, so he did the job Himself.
Mari seemed to relax almost immediately following the news.
She wouldn’t admit it, but once she’d started to work through her trauma, she’d gotten incredibly anxious about the prospect of a trial.
Over dinner one night, Gawen had asked her about Brandon’s death, trying to gauge if she was struggling with any guilt for having caused the wound that did eventually kill him, but he told me later that she seemed to have a good handle on the whole situation.
She was looking into a therapist, wanting to make sure she was dealing with it all now before it became a real problem.
It felt like we were both on the right path.
And she’d all but moved in with me now.
Her clothes were in my closet and dresser. Her books were on the end tables and nightstand. Food was filling my fridge, and she was making home-cooked meals instead of us ordering in.
I could imagine a million more days just like this.
And, what’s more, I was looking forward to them.
Mari - 4 weeks
I’d gotten fired.
I mean, I can’t say I was surprised.
After the second attack, I’d taken what was left of my sick and vacation days to try to recover, and to let the news storm die down.
A week after I was back, though, my manager called me in and fired me, stating ‘poor job performance.’
We all knew the truth, though.
