By reason of insanity

35

This time, they placed Cat in a cell with two other women. The cell was part of a pod that housed a total of thirty-four inmates. Cat's older cellmate, a woman probably in her forties, looked like she hadn't bathed or showered in a month. The woman had stringy hair, gingivitis breath, and a spare tire that would put a plumber to shame. She complained loudly when the guards stuck Cat and an extra mattress in the cell, turning her venom toward Cat as soon as the guards disappeared.

"Shut up, woman," said Cat's other cellmate, a young African-American woman with ripped biceps and a hard look that scared Cat. "She didn't ask for this cell."

Cat's defender jumped down from the top bunk and shook Cat's hand, her grip conveying a message that Cat had already deciphered. This woman's in charge.

"I'm Tasha," she said.

"Catherine."

"Don't mind Holly," Tasha said. "She gets this way when she doesn't take her medication."

But it wasn't Holly that unnerved Cat. The mouthy ones, in Cat's opinion, were not the dangerous ones. Tasha, on the other hand, had this eerie calmness and unsettling stare.

"What are you in for?" Tasha asked, sizing Cat up.

"They think I murdered someone," Cat responded, though she still couldn't believe it herself. "Maybe more than one person."

"And you're innocent, right?" Tasha said, her sarcasm obvious.

Cat felt almost embarrassed to admit it. "Yes."

"Imagine that," Tasha responded. "Holly's innocent too. They tried to say she's a druggie."

"I am innocent," Holly protested, eyeing Cat suspiciously.

"What are the odds?" Tasha asked. "I get the only two truly innocent women at the Virginia Beach city jail as my cellmates."

Cat didn't respond.

"You don't look like a serial killer," Tasha said.

"She does to me," said Holly. "Look at the eyes. She's psycho in the eyes."

Tasha leaned a little closer, staring at Cat and freaking her out. Cat looked down, avoiding Tasha's gaze.

"Maybe she's just scared," Tasha said.

Quinn caught the scene on the late news, bringing his channel surfing to an abrupt halt. An attractive woman in a bathing suit top and cotton shorts, her hands cuffed behind her back, accused of being a serial killer! The sunglasses prevented him from seeing the eyes, the first place Quinn had learned to look for signs of insanity.

From what little he could see, the woman looked scared. Confused. Ashamed. Could a woman this pretty really be a cold-blooded serial killer? Could she be the "Avenger of Blood"?

For some reason, the woman's name rang a bell. Catherine O'Rourke. They identified her as a reporter for the Tidewater Times. That was why the name sounded familiar; she had covered Annie's case. Intrigued, Quinn got on the Internet and Googled a few of the woman's articles. Catherine had given Quinn the benefit of the doubt during Annie's trial. He decided to do the same for her.

He studied a head shot of Catherine from a few months ago and compared it to her mug shot, already posted online. In the first picture, Catherine's large hazel eyes sparkled with life. They were playful and alluring, a woman comfortable in her own skin. In the disheveled mug shot there was desperation. She looked beyond the camera with a fearful and haunting stare that made Quinn wonder what was going on inside that pretty head.

Annie's case had been huge. But this one, the Avenger of Blood case, would dwarf it. The Avenger of Blood was a serial killer, not just an abused wife who struck back.

He took one more look at the earlier photo and then the mug shot. Interesting. It almost seemed like he was looking at two different women.