Death Row (Alibis Collection, #1)

by Freida McFadden

I will be executed by lethal injection in two weeks. And last, I am innocent. I didn’t kill my husband.

How could anyone think that I killed Noel? I had no motive—he was the love of my life. And most of all, I have an alibi. Yet here I am, about to be executed for his murder. And the worst part of it all is how much I miss him.

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

I 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.

There’s also, of course, his constant absences. And the lack of interest in sex. The first couple of years we were married, we were hot and heavy. And even after that, Noel was always up for it if I was. Always. It’s only in the last six months or so, right when his “work schedule” has ramped up, that he has complained about being too tired.

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.

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.

My friend is calling my name, but I ignore her. I’ve got to get home before my husband does. If I don’t, Noel is going to die, and it will be all my fault.

When you look into the eyes of the love of your life, you know it.

“I love you so much, Talia,” he says in a voice that now sounds like his own. “I . . .” “Visiting time is over!” Rhea barks. “Let’s get going, Kemper.” “No!”

Rhea gives me a pitying look. She doesn’t believe me, and it’s clear that nobody else will either. Noel has fooled everybody into thinking he is dead, and if nothing happens in the next twenty-four hours, I will be the one who is dead.

“I 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?

“And when you get home,” he adds, “I’ve got something for you that I’ll give you as soon as we can get back into the house. I spent a little too much on a necklace for you, but I never buy you jewelry, and I want to show you how much you mean to me. I hope you’re not mad that I spent so much.” The necklace was for me. Of course it was.