Alexandra Weston
December 20, 1985
Alexandra had gone into her visit with Elias Pratt expecting the interview to be no different from all the other interviews she’d had with criminals in the past. When it wasn’t, it confused and titillated her at the same time.
Unchartered territory.
A killer who made her feel something she never had before.
A killer who seemed to actually give a damn.
A killer whose secrets she was determined to discover. If not from Elias’s own mouth, she’d find another way. And she knew just where to begin. After being shot the night her parents died, Sandra Hamilton had recovered quickly. As an outpouring of love and attention flooded in from people who’d heard her story, she slid with ease into her newfound role of the grieving victim, weeping during interviews and even feigning a panic attack or two on air. She played the part well. So well, in fact, it was Sandra’s label of Elias as a “Devil in Disguise” that took hold, sticking to him like gum beneath his feet.
One day after visiting Elias, Alexandra stood in front of the door to Sandra Hamilton’s modest house. She knocked. No answer. She waited almost a full minute. Knocked again. This time, the door opened. Sandra poked her head out. Her hair was a matted disaster, her attire a short cotton nightie. This, coupled with the dark circles under her eyes, and it appeared she’d been sleeping all day.
“Who are you?” Sandra asked. “And what do you want?”
“My name is Alexandra Weston. I’m working on a book about Elias Pratt.”
“So?”
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“I tried calling several times yesterday. I even left messages on your answering machine. You never called me back.”
Sandra moved a hand to her hip. “What do you think that means?”
“You don’t want to talk to me.”
“Good. You’re smarter than you look.”
Sandra turned and walked away, leaving the door ajar. Alexandra took it as a sign she’d been offered a full-access pass and stepped inside. Sandra stopped at the kitchen, reached for a pack of cigarettes on the counter. She cupped a hand around her lips, lit up, took a long drag, and blew smoke into the air, allowing the smell of tobacco to waft through the room.
From the back of a long hallway, a man emerged from a bedroom. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and looked like he exceeded Sandra’s age by at least fifteen years. He scratched at his family jewels, gave Alexandra a quick head nod, smiled, and continued to scratch away until he, too, reached the kitchen.
He looked at Sandra. “Who’s your friend?”
Sandra whipped around, glared at Alexandra. “You need to go. I don’t have time for this.”
“I need to ask you a few questions.”
Sandra glanced at a clock on the wall, tensed. “You have to go, Ben. Now.”
“Already?” he asked. “Feels like I just got here, baby. Can I see you again?”
“Maybe. I’ll call you.”
“What about tomorrow? I can come over after work. Five thirty be okay?”
“I said I’d call you.”
The man hung his head, returned to the bedroom. Alexandra assumed, and hoped, it was to get his clothes and be on his way. Seconds later, the doorbell rang.
A different man, this time a bit closer to Sandra in age, entered the house. “It’s Roger,” he hollered into the house. “The door’s open. I’m coming in.”
Sandra flicked the cigarette into an ashtray and marched over to him. “You’re early, Roger. Fifteen minutes early. We talked about this. I give you a time. You stick to it, or there won’t be a next time. Understand?”
Roger produced a handful of red roses, offered them to Sandra. She smacked them away. “No, no, no. Roger. I told you. It isn’t like that. Now leave.”
“But what about—”
“Come back in fifteen minutes.”
Sandra slammed the door, yelled, “Ben, I told you to get out!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he yelled back.
He shuffled down the hall, leaned toward Sandra on his way out like he wanted to give her a kiss. She jerked her face in the opposite direction, and his kiss landed on her hair.
Once he’d left, Alexandra said, “What the hell is going on here? Why are men coming in and out of your house today?”
Sandra shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Does it look like your business? Because it isn’t.”
“I have a few questions about Elias,” Alexandra said. “Answer them and I’ll leave you to get back to whatever the ‘nothing’ is you have going here.”
“I’m not interested in talking about Elias. It’s been almost three years. I don’t think about it anymore. Are we done?”
“Are you aware Elias was just granted another stay of execution?”
“Do you think I care? Do I look like I care? I don’t keep up on any of it anymore. Not since the trial ended.”
“Your parents are dead because of him. That doesn’t matter to you?”
“He got what he deserved. I’ve moved on. Everyone else should too.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Still, must have been hard after what he did to you.”
Sandra turned, coughed. “What he did ... it doesn’t ... I’m not ... I’m fine.”
“I talked to your neighbor.”
“So?”
“The one who called the police the night Elias broke in. She saw you come home that night. Knew the exact time too.”
“Your point?”
“When she heard the gunshot, the one after you arrived home, the one that hit you, it was at least ten minutes before police arrived. A lot of time, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You do though, don’t you, Sandra? You know exactly what I mean. He could have left if he wanted to. He didn’t. He stayed. And the only reason I can think of is that he stayed for you.”
Sandra shrugged. “So.”
“The first officer on the scene said that when he walked into the house Elias was cradling you, saying, ‘It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right now. I’m not going to leave you.’ Interesting choice of words, don’t you think?”
“The guy’s a freaking weirdo. Why does it matter what he said?”
“When Paula Page was on the stand during Elias’s trial, she kept looking at you. Do you have any idea why?”
“I don’t know her. Who knows?” Sandra pointed to the door. “You need to leave.”
Alexandra walked to the door, turning back before she stepped outside. “There’s a reason Elias saved you. I think you know why, and I won’t stop digging until I figure it all out.”
Sandra curved her lips into a wry grin and leaned forward. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”