Free Dead Politician Society by Robin Spano Page B

that I came from a happy loving home?
    Annabel laughed, although she wasn’t sure what she found funny. Maybe it was
Two and a Half Men
. Maybe it was the medication kicking in.
    Death Reporter:
I’d ask how old you were when all that changed.
    Utopia Girl:
When all that changed. Did you take Psych
101
when you were my age but decide to pursue journalism when you figured out you sucked at analysis?
    Her age? Annabel tossed her blanket aside and got up off the couch. She found a notebook with some empty pages and jotted
Utopia Girl — university age?
    Death Reporter:
Sorry if I upset you. You don’t expect a killer to come from a happy home.
    Utopia Girl:
I’ll give you some details. But understand that this is the background picture I choose to give you. It may bear little resemblance to my actual childhood.
    Death Reporter:
So let’s start with the broad strokes. Did you grow up in Canada?
    Utopia Girl:
Yes.
    Death Reporter:
Small town or big city?
    Utopia Girl:
No comment.
    Death Reporter:
Are your parents Canadian? Did they grow up here, too?
    Utopia Girl:
No offense, but these questions are boring even to me.
    Why did people only say “no offense” right before they insulted you?
    Death Reporter:
Did your childhood bore you?
    Utopia Girl:
If only it had.
    Death Reporter:
Was the environment abusive? Did one of your parents drink?
    Utopia Girl:
No abuse, no drinking. We all got along, you know, loved each other.
    Death Reporter: lol
. So how old were you when all that changed?
    Utopia Girl: lol
right back to you. Glad you find my tragedy so comedic.
    Death Reporter:
I was laughing at myself, too.
    Utopia Girl:
Now we share jokes?
    Death Reporter:
What’s wrong with being light and pleasant?
    Utopia Girl:
Think Hayden Pritchard’s family is feeling light and pleasant?
    A killer who was also sanctimonious?
    Death Reporter:
Do you feel badly for having killed him?
    Utopia Girl:
If that’s how you write English, I can see why you haven’t advanced as a reporter.
    Death Reporter:
What?
    Utopia Girl:
You just asked if killing Hayden Pritchard had diminished my ability to feel. Which I suppose is an interesting question in its own right, but not what you meant.
    Annabel scanned her last couple of sent messages.
    Death Reporter:
Fine. Do you feel
bad
for having killed Pritchard?
    Utopia Girl:
Feel bad for his family. Think the world’s a better place without him.
    Death Reporter:
Can you talk about your motivation?
    Utopia Girl:
I can talk about whatever I like.
    Death Reporter: Will
you talk about your motivation?
    Utopia Girl:
In time. For now, though, know that I am trying to right a wrong.
    Death Reporter:
A personal wrong? Or do you have the common good at heart?
    Utopia Girl:
Exactly. One or the other.
    Death Reporter:
But there will be more deaths, right? In your letter, you said Pritchard was your first step.
    Utopia Girl:
You sound almost hopeful. On that note, I’m out.
    Annabel set down her phone, feeling no better than when she’d arrived home. Score one point for cold prevention pills being a fraud.

NINETEEN
JONATHAN

    Finland: Who’s got the power?
    USA :
You do, but it’s temporary.
    Jonathan looked around his bedroom. It was time to update the décor, if he planned to entertain Jessica here anytime soon. He still had
Star Wars
posters on the wall. He still had wizards on his bedsheets.
    Finland:
Temporary? Really? I’ve taken over your oil interests worldwide, and you can’t afford to arm your men. And — oh, look — I’ve secured China as an ally.
    USA :
Well if I sell all my women to Russia as mail-order brides . . . like so . . . that gives me enough money to train my soldiers and fully arm my military.
    Jonathan took a gulp of iced tea. Maybe Jessica liked
Star Wars.
    Finland:
Mail-order brides don’t go
to
Russia.
    USA :
They just did. Now if I distract China by sending over some domestic trouble . . . like, say,