Palindrome (eBook)

Hannah Noon (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2021 | 1. Auflage
266 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-0386-9 (ISBN)

Infos

Taking an assignment no one else wanted in a town full of deadly secrets, Polly Land is an investigative journalist determined to uncover decades of mysterious secrets in a small Midwest town. When a newly discovered skeleton is found buried under ancient Indian remains, a young man is executed for a triple murder and locals fear both corrupt authorities and an ancient curse placed on the town. Polly has to find the strength to save herself from her own mind as well as from an unlikely psychopath, unravelling the town secret past.

Textauszug

Chapter 1
The Execution

How did I end up here? Sitting in a gallery with seventeen other people, all starring at the same pane glass window, as though waiting for the coming attraction. It was covered on the inside by a thick red curtain. Fitting, I guess. We were all waiting to witness the execution of a man convicted of three brutal murders. A small family, in an even smaller town. It was a difficult decision and time-consuming to get a seat to this event. I wonder if the other sixteen people in attendance had the same difficult process or where they somehow invested, affected or related to this man. I myself have no feelings one way or another. I just want to stop feeling paranoid. A feeling that is so intense at times I question my own sanity. I keep telling myself this is just a story. The end of this man’s life will be the conclusion and the beginning of my life.

Reinier Smelt was born 09/19/1990, so they say. There is no birth record or none that I could find anyway. I was able to find a record of adoption to a prominent family. The adoptive father was a reproductive endocrinologist and geneticist. His wife listed as just a housewife on the adoption decree, barren so it seems. There was no birth mother listed, just the word “abandoned.” I had to wonder if one of the sixteen others seated here was his biological mother or father. I know his adoptive parents aren’t in attendance nor his brother by adoption. What could have gone so wrong that a fifteen-year-old boy could become a murderous monster? He is to be executed today, 12/12/ 2012, at the age of twenty-two. How random is it to be born and die both on palindrome dates? Let alone that his first name was a palindrome. Palindrome is a sequence of numbers or letters that read the same forward and backward. Some cultures believe to be born or married on a palindrome date is good luck. It doesn’t look that way, at least not for him. But luck had nothing to do with the fate of Reinier Smelt.

I was visually startled when the red curtain opened unexpectedly and the lights turned out. Suddenly the room felt very small. Feeling hot breath on the back of my neck. Someone was sitting way to close behind me. A familiar smell knotted my stomach. Behind me sat a large women dressed in a black dress that covered her entire body. She was wearing a veiled hat covering most of her face. It appeared she was trying to get a better view. Why the hell was I even here, other than having to see this man die with my own eyes? I had to know for sure he was dead. He was on a gurney with his arms stretched out to his sides. If he had been vertical, it would’ve looked like he was being crucified. I was so glad I couldn’t see his face, only a profile. I recognized him from his mug shot. Except today he was bald, his head had been shaved. Why shave his head? It’s not like he is going to be executed by electric chair. He was going to die the painless, humane way, by lethal injection. Not at all close to how he killed his victims. According to the trial transcripts, he took his time inflicting pain before killing them. Exhibiting anger and rage that can only be provoked by deep hatred and resentment. What could have made a boy have that much rage and hatred? He appeared strikingly calm considering what was about to take place. I can’t imagine what it would be like to know your exact time and day you were going to die.

A small frail man, not at all young, gave details of the execution process. I had to wonder how many people he has killed over the years, twenty maybe fifty or maybe this was his first. He explained what drugs would be given and how they would be administered. I already knew; I am an investigative journalist by trade and had already researched the method in which he would die. First the arms are swabbed with antiseptic. Sterilized needles are inserted into his arms. Both arms are used in case one fails. It seems crazy to me to be so careful about infection when the end result is death, not healing. A heart monitor was placed on him, then three separate drugs were given in a set sequence. First, sodium thiopental which renders the person unconscious and depresses the respiratory system. Second, Pancuronium bromide is a nondepolarizing muscle relaxant. It causes fast and sustained paralysis of the skeletal muscles, including the diaphragm, causing death by asphyxiation. How suitable, considering his two female victims died of asphyxiation, after he tortured them. Although without the benefit of the anesthetic, which induces unconsciousness in less the thirty seconds. No, they suffered. The third injection is potassium chloride. A potassium salt that increases the blood and cardiac concentration of potassium to stop the heart, resulting in cardiac arrest.

I was so relieved that Reinier was facing the wall and not the window. If he turned his head to the left, would he be able to catch sight of me watching him die? I wasn’t sure, never inquiring if the window was actually a window or a one-way mirror. Reinier was asked if he had any last words. He never spoke into the microphone dangling above his head. Just shook his head no. Had he no remorse? At that moment, he turned his head and glared at me. As if he knew me. A death stare. That would’ve been impossible for him to know me because we have never met. This was the first time I ever laid eyes on the monster’s face. Although strangely, his face was familiar to me. His eyes looked void, as though soulless. He had a deep scar running from the right side of his forehead to his left cheek. The scar had to have happened while he was incarcerated. He had no facial scars in his mug shot at the time of his arrest. All the fingers on his left hand were mutilated, as if broken one by one. Chills ran through me like I have never known. I wanted to run, seriously run, but I knew I had to see this through to the end. It didn’t take long before I could see him gasping and foaming at the mouth. Like a rabid dog, which I’ve never really witnessed. Was he grinning? I leaned forward to see. He was trying to breath. Foam can only form if air is passing through the lungs. Was he still alive? The thick red curtain closed as quickly as it had opened. Was this it? Was he dead? Everything was over, just that fast. Reinier Smelt had met his fate. The living relatives of his victims would finally have closure. Although, I continue to have this lingering feeling of fear. I did not feel closure with his death, only paranoia.

All sixteen people, including myself, were led out of the room to another room. We were offered water and given directions to the bathrooms. Then asked to answer a few simple questions regarding what we saw and how it made us feel. Really? They wanted a movie review? The only question I had was, is he really dead? The tiny frail man, who appeared to be the head honcho in charge, replied, “Yes.” Giving us the approximate time, he was pronounced dead. I was not at all surprised with his answer; 12:21 a.m. on the day of 12/12/12, being twenty-two years of age. Without a doubt, palindromes were not lucky for Reinier Smelt. Maybe he was really cursed. His family had owned land that had once been an ancient Indian burial ground. The graves had been looted and exploited by many local and county officials with great profit to be made. It was common knowledge that an Indian shaman had placed a curse on the town—for disturbing their ancestors’ graves and placing them on display. I, for, one heard the curse chanted straight from the shaman’s mouth in a public city council meeting.

Finally, we were allowed to leave; it was so cold and dark. I was never more homesick for the south as I was at that moment. I made a promise to myself, a vow, to never go backwards only forward. So, retreat was not going to happen. As soon as our small group was free of the last prison gate, we splintered in different directions. Like birds leaving a cage. I walked as fast as I could trying not to fall on the ice. That would suck considering there was no one around to help me if I broke a bone. I knew someone was close behind me, I could feel their presence. I knew if I fell, they would not be there to help me but rather to gather their prey. Whoever the person was that had been making my life somewhat unlivable this past year was here. Had they been in that room, followed me here? I had to know, I turned to face him, call him out for the coward he was, a showdown. I turned so fast I almost fell; no one was there, just the abyss. I know I heard shuffling footsteps, systematically in sync with my own. I was naiveo walking on frozen land and kept my feet close to the ground to keep from falling. Whoever was following me was very familiar with walking on ice?

My drive home, or should I say temporary home, was long. I had time to think about how much my life had changed after arriving there. I would be forever changed. Stronger in some ways, less human in others. How could it all have gone so wrong? This life I am living was not at all planned. No one in their right mind would plan this. But it is what it is and I will live it. The only thing I can do now is finish what I started and move on. I wanted to see what this life had in store for me next. One thing I took away was life has its own plan. We just need to be strong enough to live it. While driving home I couldn’t help thinking about Reinier’s petition for clemency; he made only one after his conviction and death sentence. In his petition he did not deny committing the murders. His defense was that of a spontaneous impulsive act rising out of anger, fear and deep-rooted mental illness. Isn’t that what they all say? Maybe he...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 15.10.2021
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
• ISBN-10: 1-6678-0386-7 / 1667803867
• ISBN-13: 978-1-6678-0386-9 / 9781667803869