‘No, Archie. That’s the good thing about being an incorrigible narcissist. We can’t imagine depriving the world of our presence.’

‘I’m serious,’ he said.

‘So am I.’

Archie tried to see if there was any real threat behind the jokes, but smarter men than he had tried and failed to decipher the riddle of Janine Snow. She took pride in that.

‘You’re wrong,’ she told him.

‘About what?’

‘This is the end. It’s like death, really. People go away, and we go on with our lives. That’s what’s going to happen to me. I’ll go away, and people will forget about me. I hate that.’

‘That’s not true. How many lives have you saved? Those people and their families aren’t going to forget you. I imagine many of them still thank you in their prayers every night.’

She shook her head. ‘I wish they wouldn’t do that. It’s a waste of time. Patients are always sending me gifts, knitting me sweaters, lighting candles for me. I wish they’d stop and accept it for what it is. Some debts aren’t meant to be repaid. It’s better not to try.’

He didn’t have an answer for her. Instead, he gathered his papers and stood up. ‘I’ll be in touch as I know more,’ he said.

‘Of course.’

Janine’s eyes traveled from wall to wall. She wasn’t any closer to accepting them. Each time she looked, it seemed as if the walls had pushed inward, making the space around her smaller.

‘So what would it take?’ she asked. ‘To throw out the conviction.’

‘The appeal process—’

‘Not the appeal,’ she said. ‘I’m not talking about legal loopholes. I mean, what would it take to really prove that I didn’t shoot Jay? Enough for a judge to release me.’

Archie looked down at her, trying to gauge if she was serious. After all, he still believed that she was the one who pulled the trigger. ‘Honestly?’ he asked. ‘The gun. And the jewelry. In someone else’s hands.’

*

Howard sat in Judge Edblad’s office. He’d dressed in a tie again, the way he had during the trial. His collar was moist where his neck sweated. The office in the courthouse was formal, with an oak desk and a flag, but he also saw pictures of the judge with his family and posters on the walls from Disney World. It was strange to think of the judge as a human being.

‘Mr. Marlowe,’ Judge Edblad said, entering the office from the corridor and taking a seat across from him at the conference table. He wore a suit, not the robe he’d worn in the courtroom. ‘My clerk said you wanted to talk to me.’

‘Yes.’

Howard tried to go on. He’d rehearsed the words, and now they left him. He didn’t know what to say.