Death Row (Alibis Collection, #1)

by Freida McFadden

First, I am currently on death row for murdering my husband. Second, my attorney has filed one last appeal, but if that is rejected, I will be executed by lethal injection in two weeks. And last, I am innocent. I didn’t kill my husband.

I’m going to die. In less than two weeks, I will be executed by the state.

look back one last time at the man in the dark suit. He’s talking to the redheaded inmate, his attention focused on her, but then, just as Rhea is pulling me from the room, he raises his eyes to meet mine. Oh my God. It’s Noel.

“On my life.” He takes another step closer to me. “And you know it’s true, because if I ever did cheat on you, you’d probably kill me.”

So the fact is, I never actually saw Noel’s body and confirmed that it was him. The police told me they used DNA to positively identify his scorched

remains, but all I have to go on is what they told me. What if the DNA evidence was wrong?

Noel has lost his sense of smell, but I haven’t, and I am very aware that he reeks of another woman’s perfume.

It’s been a week, and every single time he goes to “work,” he comes back stinking of eau de slut.

I peer at the fading print on the receipt, from a local jewelry store. The last four digits of our credit card number were used to purchase a fairly expensive necklace. Since the receipt was dated well over a week ago and there are no anniversaries or holidays coming up that he might be holding on to it for, it seems that if it were meant for me, he would have given it to me already. No, I strongly suspect the recipient of this intended gift has already received it. Maybe she’s wearing it right now.

If I came into my kitchen and smelled gas the way I do now, I would know not to use the oven and possibly to call the fire department. Noel wouldn’t know, though.

didn’t do it.” My voice slurs on the words. “I didn’t kill my husband. I’m innocent.” Albert is quiet for a moment, his fingers frozen on the syringe that will paralyze my muscles. He exchanges looks with Rhea and then lets out a deep sigh. “Yes,” he says, “we know.” What?

“It’s too soon.” It’s Noel’s voice, suddenly in the room with me as well. Why is he here? Chaplains aren’t allowed in the room during executions. “It’s only been a month. She . . . she still might wake up. It’s possible, isn’t it, Dr. Bowman?”

“She hasn’t made any attempts to breathe on her own since the accident. The scans show her brain is more blood than brain. At this point, I would say there’s no hope of her ever waking up.”