“Sorry it’s such late notice, Nicole,” Julian said. “But Doctor Hastings got the flu at the last minute, so I have to go in his place.” Lately, Julian was finding it painfully easy to lie to his wife, but he had his priorities. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was not pleased.

“Who the hell is Doctor Hastings?”

“He started at the hospital only a couple of months ago. He relocated from Chicago General. Real sharp guy.”

“Why you? Can’t somebody else go to LA?”

“Only Ted Hastings and I are qualified to lecture on this new procedure.” He put his arms around her and hugged her for a minute, rubbing her back and kissing her cheek.

“It’s not fair,” Nicole whispered.

“Do you like your new Range Rover and living two blocks from the ocean?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“I’m merely trying to point out that there is a price to be paid for our upscale lifestyle. It’s not a nine-to-five job, Nicole. Sometimes it requires that I go out of town. It’s only two nights. I’ll be home by noon on Wednesday.”

“I’d rather see you take the train than drive,” Nicole suggested.

“And I’d rather fly, but the hospital’s budget is really tight. I’m okay with driving. It’s only two hours.”

“Two hours if the freeway’s moving. It’s crazy anywhere near LA.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“This really pisses me off, Julian.”

Julian feared that the discussion might escalate. Wouldn’t be the first time, he thought. But before Nicole could sharpen her fangs, their daughters, Isabel and Lorena, rescued him. They came in from outside, sweaty cheeks and out of breath. Each grasped one of his legs and held tight.

“We were playing hopscotch, Daddy,” Isabel said. Only five years old, she was already reading books for children twice her age. “And guess who won?”

“I’ll bet it was your sister.” He winked at Lorena. Unlike Isabel, Lorena, three years older, was not blessed with her sister’s intellect or her physical agility.

“I won, Daddy!” Lorena yelled.

The moment Lorena looked the other way, Isabel cupped her hands around her mouth and spoke as softly as she could. “I let her win, Daddy.”

Julian was not surprised that the younger of his two daughters could be so kind and generous at such a young age. During a recent parent-teacher meeting, Ms. Taylor had called Isabel a “gentle soul.”

Julian squatted down and hugged his girls. There was nothing in the universe he cherished more than Isabel and Lorena. The highlight of his day was sitting on their beds and reading them a bedtime story. Shortly after Lorena’s birth, it was obvious that she was a special needs child. The doctors never gave Julian a firm diagnosis. All they could say was that for some reason, she would be slow to learn and never be particularly agile. She didn’t take her first step until she was eighteen months old, and couldn’t put a complete sentence together until she was four. Nicole, devastated by Lorena’s handicap, feeling totally responsible, wanted no part of another baby. But Julian pleaded and begged until finally Nicole gave in. It was tough for Julian to admit, but had he not wanted children so desperately, he might never have gotten married.

“Who wants to go get ice cream?” Julian asked. At their age, the girls didn’t realize that the “ice cream” was actually fat-free frozen yogurt.

“I do! I do!” they both yelled.

Nicole gave him the “look,” and Julian knew from past experiences what was coming.

“Our conversation is far from over,” Nicole said.

At times like this, he wished he was a single parent.

Doctor Templeton discharged Josephine a day sooner than Sami expected. “She’s coming along very well,” he had told Sami.

Aware that Simon would meet his fate with a lethal injection in less than a week, Sami had no choice but to confront her longstanding issues with him despite a profound feeling of guilt for having to leave her mother just a few days after her surgery. And she had to do it quickly. There was no time for deliberation. In spite of her ability to deny the truth, on some issues, she now realized that no amount of therapy or counseling could ever give her complete closure. She had to look him in the eyes and ask the questions that haunted her every night.

The decision had not come easy.

Doctor Janowitz had made it clear that Sami would never put the ordeal to rest until she confronted Simon face-to-face. And Sami, too, now felt certain that in order to live a productive life, she had to find peace once and for all. The idea of actually meeting him, however, seemed beyond anything Sami could imagine. Where would she find the courage and strength to carry out such a daunting feat? How might she react when she was just inches away from him, looking into those steel-blue eyes, and her mind flashed back to her life-changing experience?

She’d spent the last two years struggling to make sense of her life, trying desperately to get it back on track, to feel like a whole woman again. Yes, she and Al were now lovers, and for the most part their relationship was stable. Or was it? His behavior of late puzzled her. But she could not think about this right now. Her focus was Simon. It was a matter of survival. Deep in the pit of her gut, Sami feared that even though Simon lived in a cage awaiting his execution, ironically and pitifully, he had won. She was the one imprisoned. She had learned, painfully, through two years of misery, that death was not always the worst punishment. Sometimes living life with a head full of baggage was the ultimate hell. Her only solace, the thread of hope she clung to, was believing in Doctor J and believing in herself.

Sami felt totally confident leaving her mother with Emily. In fact, Emily was better suited to care for her mother than anyone. Yet if something were to happen while Sami was away, she’d never be able to forgive herself. Doctor Templeton had told Sami that no one could predict if a bypass patient would ever suffer from another heart attack. But he assured her that her mother’s prognosis was favorable. And as long as she was willing to modify her lifestyle, she could live to a ripe old age.

It hadn’t been easy for Sami to get the warden’s approval to visit Simon one-on-one, particularly because she was no longer a detective. But having connections not only with the police department, but also with the corrections community, Sami, through the lieutenant governor in Sacramento, convinced the warden that she, more than anyone in the world, was entitled to visit Simon before the State of California put him to death.

Of one thing Sami felt certain: After confronting Simon, if she could not take control of her life, then dead or alive, he would forever have her in his grip.

Wearing a Chargers baseball cap, Julian met the man at an out-of-the-way coffee shop in a quiet strip mall in La Mesa. Feeling a little conspicuous, he panned the area, looking for a familiar face. Comfortable that no one observed or cared about his activities, Julian pulled out a wad of money and peeled off a hundred-dollar bill. “Here’s a little something for you.” He handed the man the money and a folded piece of paper. “The phone number and specific instructions are written on this paper. Make sure you call at seven p.m. sharp.”

The man pointed to the note. “And that’s all I have to do is make the call, say that I’m Doctor Hastings, and follow these instructions?”

Julian nodded. “That’s it.” He leaned toward the man. “Any questions?”

The man thought for a minute. “None.”

As Julian turned, ready to walk away, the man grabbed his arm. “If ever you need me again, Bud, I’m always available to make an easy buck.”

The California Courts had imprisoned Simon Kwosokowski in Pelican Bay State Prison, a two-hundred-seventy-five-acre Supermax facility located in Crescent City, three hundred seventy miles north of San Francisco. It was home to some of California’s most dangerous inmates. Opened in 1989, half of the prison—an X-shaped cluster of buildings set apart by electrified fencing—was a Security Housing Unit, one of the first maximum security facilities in the country. Inmates confined to this area were held in isolation twenty-three hours a day and spent the remaining hour in a heavily guarded exercise area. Home to infamous gang members, rapists, and mass murderers, Pelican Bay State Prison housed the worst of the worst.

Fortunately for Sami, when she’d made reservations, she was able to coordinate a flight from San Francisco directly to Crescent City via a regional jet. When she arrived at Jack McNamara Field, a tiny airport by any definition, she could smell the ocean. The salty air seemed like the only characteristic this area shared with San Diego. She saw two small buildings, which she guessed represented the sum total of the airport.

A young man with a dark tan and thick accent whisked Sami and three other passengers to the main building in a golf cart. The building was slightly bigger than a two-car garage. The sky looked ominous, as if at any moment the clouds would open up and release sheets of rain. She saw one broken-down taxicab in front of the building and the driver was sitting in the front seat sound asleep.

Not wanting to stay overnight—she’d been careful when making reservations to be certain she could return to San Diego the same day—she carried no luggage, just an oversize handbag. She was uncertain whether or not to tip the polite young man, but saw one of the other passengers hand him some money, so she pawed through her bag, found her wallet, and handed the guy five bucks.

She gently knocked on the taxicab’s window and startled the sleeping driver. After a brief conversation, he agreed to drive her to the prison.

With proper ID, a lengthy explanation, notarized authorization documents from the lieutenant governor, and a series of endless phone calls made by the corrections officer stationed at the main gate, Sami managed to get through security. Getting into this gigantic fortress seemed a lot easier than getting out, Sami thought. In her second golf-cart ride of the day, the corrections officer shuttled Sami toward the warden’s office. She passed one concrete structure after another, one electric fence after another. The place looked completely abandoned, as if the corrections officer and she were the only two living beings in this complex of buildings. She knew, though, that behind these concrete walls, there lived quite another world.

Just when she thought the concrete structures would never end, she spotted a building that looked completely out of character and guessed that this was, among other things, the warden’s office.

The corrections officer had hardly spoken a word to Sami, and his silence continued as he led her into the building and onto the elevator. The warden’s office sat by itself at the end of the hall. The corrections officer knocked gently on the heavy-gauge steel door and waited for an invitation to come in. Once inside, he quickly retreated and left her standing just inside the doorway.

Standing up and making his way toward Sami, the warden, portly and bald, offered his hand. “Sebastian Marshall.” He vigorously pumped her arm. “So you’re the famous Sami Rizzo.”

“I think famous is a stretch, Warden,” Sami said.

“I’m sure a lot of people would beg to differ with you, particularly in San Diego.” He moved toward his desk. “Please have a seat.”

He wedged his wide hips into the leather chair. “May I ask you a rather personal question?”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to answer, but sure, go ahead.”

“I can totally understand why you would be compelled to witness Simon Kwosokowski’s execution, but why in the name of God would you want to visit him?”

“Because dead people can’t answer questions.”

“What questions?”

She wiped her clammy palms on the front of her slacks. “Let’s just say that Simon and I have some unfinished business.”

“I hope you clearly understand what you’re getting yourself into. Simon is a shrewd fellow and he can really get into your head and mess with your brain.”

She didn’t need the warden’s warning. She’d already played a little game of chess with him. “I appreciate your concern.”

“You do realize that you’ve been given a special privilege here, right? The only people authorized to visit a death row inmate are immediate family, priests, attorneys, and select law enforcement people.”

“I’m aware of that, Warden. And thank you for cooperating.”

“Don’t thank me. I lobbied against it when Lieutenant Governor Bertolino contacted me, but he’s not the kind of guy who takes no for an answer.”

Sami had met Bertolino at a conference in Sacramento a few years ago. For some reason, he took an immediate shine to her. To this day she wasn’t sure why. But she guessed either it was an Italian thing or he just liked woman with full hips and a generous ass. Whatever the case, she was happy she’d met him.

“One last question, Ms. Rizzo, and then you can shuffle off. Do you really think that getting into Simon’s head is going to benefit you in some way?”

“I guess I’m about to find out.”