Rose B. Mashal - Redemption

Copyright 2020 by Rose B. Mashal All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Editor:

Morgan Roe Shaw Raymond

Cover Design by Jada DLee Designs Formatted by Lindsey Gray

To Sherry Sanders, the one I cant keep up with but still love dearly.

We dont see them. When our loved ones make mistakes, we dont see them. We are blinded by love, by care, by our faith in them, in ourselves. We dont see their mistakes.

Sometimes, they make a mistake so horrible, we do see it. We see it, but we choose to ignore it, dismiss it, and make excuses for them. They had good intentions, we lie to ourselves.

When the number of mistakes increases, we believe they will change. We try to change them, to make them better. We fear for them, for our hearts which are in their hands. We forgive. We forget.

The truth is, they wont change.

Mistakes only multiply, until we no longer know the right thing to do. Lies spread faster, until we dont recognize the truth anymore.

The worst thing is, we let them be. By the time we realize what is happening, its too late to fix things, its useless to make changes. By the time we realize it, theres no way out.

I loved Taylor Benz. He was important to me. I loved his warm smile and his sweet words of encouragement. I loved how passionate he was about his work, and how he always, always respected my decisions.

Most importantly, I loved how much he cared about me, and my well-being.

Taylor noticed when I came to work, and when I left. He took care of me when I was too busy and distracted to take care of myself. He brought me food and drinks all the time.

There was no way I couldnt love him, and I considered him one of my dearest friends.

Never in a million years, would I have thought that his care was anything more. From what the photos have shown me it was obsession. Turned out, I was too distracted to notice that Taylor cared about me more than he should, more than anyone should. The photos hidden in his laptop said it all.

It had been a few days since Carl Jordans execution. I kept thinking about him, and what he said to me, in between thinking about Taylor and what I found on his laptop.

It was frightening. When I saw one photo after another of me, taken without my consent, I had one of the worst panic attacks of my whole life. I was grateful that Ian was there with me, holding me all the way through it. He was the only joy and comfort in my life right now.

Every time I recalled the events of that day, I panicked all over again. I couldnt seem to snap out of it. But someone I knew was murdered; the convicted murderer told me in all honesty that he didnt do it, and even begged me to find the real killer. Then, I find those photos on my friends laptop, indicating he had been stalking me for months. I had good reasons for freaking out.

I met Taylor a few years ago when I was interviewing candidates to work with me on the production of my android. I chose him for his degrees in, and numerous papers on, robotic science. He was an Artificial Intelligence genius, one of the very best.

I appreciated his geekiness and his brilliant mind. I loved his contributions and new thoughts on the project. In no time, Taylor was as essential as me when it came to our project. He became a vital part of it all.

His soft smile was endearing, as well as the way he adjusted his glasses, pushing them up with his finger every time he felt shy. I loved how he took care of me, and how nice he was to everyone.

Never, in my wildest thoughts, would I imagine Taylor to be a criminal.

A part of me didnt want to believe it, the part which cared a lot about him. I wanted to believe that Mr. Jordan was mistaken. Ms. Corsos murder could have nothing to do with the project, and nothing to do with Taylor.

Mr. Jordan might not have killed Kimberly Corso, but I couldnt believe Taylor did it either. He was too kind to be a murderer. Then again, he had that suspicious file on his laptop. Even if my friend didnt kill the mafia princess, he still did something bad.

All this hurt my head. I needed to stop thinking about it, at least until I had a clearer mind, so I ignored Taylors texts and phone calls. I was sure he wanted to know why I left the lab so abruptly, and why I wasnt returning his calls.

I couldnt face him. I hated to say it, but I was afraid of him. The whole situation was upsetting, and I didnt know the right thing to do. I was so frightened, I told no one about it, not even Ian.

Kimberly was dead. Carl was dead. Neither of them were the kindest of people, and they both committed crimes Carl told me so himself. I wasnt exactly heartbroken about them, but the way they had to go was extremely sad.

However, the possibility of a criminal being on the loose and not getting the punishment they deserved made it difficult to sleep at night. Especially since I thought that if I dug deeper, I could find all I needed to know. But I didnt want to know.

I was scared.

Maybe I would wonder about it for the rest of my life, but I didnt want to know . If the murderer was someone close to me, it would hurt my heart to no end. It always pained me to be disappointed in people I loved.

Maybe it wasnt my place to search. Maybe I was better off not knowing. I had everything I needed in Ian. There was nothing to fear because Ian would protect me. Always.

I had to think of Kimberlys murder on another day, when I was in the right mental state for it. I didnt know when that might happen, but it had to wait. That was how I handled things; I may delay something for a good reason, but I never let go.

Ready? Ian asked from across the room.

Yes. Im ready. I put my cellphone in my pocket and put on my shoes, smiling when Ian offered me a red rose that he picked from our garden. Thank you.

It was a new daily habit of his, to offer me roses or small gifts of his creations. It seemed like he did anything he could think of to make me smile, and he succeeded.

The past few days had been quiet, peaceful to a point. Ian understood I was upset and had a lot on my mind, but he didnt know why. He asked a few times if I wanted to talk about what was bothering me, but I didnt tell him anything.

I was the type to suffer in silence, working things out in my mind before speaking about them. I feared sounding like an idiot, so thinking things through thoroughly first was my usual process.

I explained that to Ian, and he respected my decision, giving me the space I needed. But the responsibility he bore to me still made him ask now and then if there was something that he could do.

His obligation wouldnt let me continue working when I exhausted myself in my lab. I was still digging for the mysterious video that had popped up on the monitor when I searched Ians files.