Howard, bland and boring. Howard, obsessed and driven by desire. This was his fantasy come true. Janine, free; the two of them, together. She’d never actually told him they had no future together, because all that time in prison, she’d had no future to give him. He was her little indulgence, someone to feed her ego.

Howard, Howard, Howard. Nice, unremarkable Howard, writing a book he would never finish, to rescue a woman who would never be in love with him. He would give up everything in his life for her. His wife. His child. When you’re an addict, nothing else matters except your addiction.

She couldn’t hide from Howard. He’d find her. That very first night, he’d be at the door of her hotel room. Probably with flowers, the poor fool. And champagne. Like she’d anticipated that moment the same way he had.

Janine realized that he deserved one night with her. She wouldn’t send him away without it. She’d toyed and played with the man for eight years, and if she let him enjoy his fantasy with her, that wasn’t such a great sacrifice. It was nothing but sex. Years earlier, when he’d showed up on her doorstep during the trial, she’d thought about taking him inside and sleeping with him. If she’d done it, would she be in prison right now?

Okay, Howard. This is what you’ve dreamed about. This is what it’s like to be in bed with me. She could live with that for one night. And in the morning, when she broke his heart, she wondered if he would still think it was worth the price.

*

Howard sat in his basement office, waiting for Archibald Gale to pick up the phone. A classical symphony played while he was on hold. He’d already listened to ten minutes of Beethoven, but Gale’s assistant assured him that the lawyer was anxious to speak with him. That was a big change from the days when he would make five or six calls to Gale’s office without getting a call back.

Finding the ring had changed his status. He would always remember the look of grudging admiration on Gale’s face when he showed him the ring.

Howard wasn’t stupid. He knew that Janine’s lawyer patronized him, full of hollow encouragement for his research. Yes, you keep digging, Howard. Yes, I have faith in you. And then he laughed behind his back. The truth was that Gale had never believed that Howard would discover anything remotely useful to Janine’s appeal.

So it was a triumphant moment to put the ring from the pawn shop in Gale’s hand and say: ‘I did it. I found it.’