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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.
Oh my God. It’s Noel.
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 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?
