Emery frowned as the suspect confessed to Hassett of her crime. Sometimes the suspect was cocky or self-assured as they confessed, almost as if they didn’t care that they’d been caught as long as they’d been successful. Sometimes the wardens had to drag the confession out of them, inch by painful inch – showing irrefutable evidence until they could no longer deny their crime. This time – times like these – when the suspect seemed to have been backed into a corner by circumstances, were the worst.

This was not a cold-blooded murder, prompted by greed or a thirst for power. This was not even a crime of passion that could be seen as a momentary lapse. The woman had killed someone because she felt that otherwise the abuse she had from that person would never end. She had slowly and methodically plotted out every single portion of the crime. She had waited, using herself as bait so the person would fall into the trap. However, unlike those who he normally encountered that kill in cold-blood, she was remorseful.

The police could only tell the man to stop following her – to stop taunting her. They could not stop what was not considered a crime. Thus a perfectly ordinary, good-hearted woman had been driven to take the life of another.

“She’ll probably get off light because of extenuating circumstances,” Hurley said softly. “Anyway, you did a good job. What she did would have eaten away at her if she’d actually gotten away with it.” Emery nodded. The victory still seemed a hollow one, but the older man was probably right.

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