‘But can I – is there a library, or a TV or anything?’ If I could at least read, that would be something. Find some law books, get started on my appeal.

She sneered. ‘All those things have to be earned. And you’re not off to the best start, are you, with your English sass-mouth?’

Enjoying the power she had over me, she went out, slamming the barred door and turning the key.

I was locked in, without a breath of air or a slice of sky. I had not a single thing on me, no pockets, no bag. Not a picture or a single personal item, not so much as a pen. No soap or toothbrush, not even a towel, just the already sweaty clothes I had on me, dank from the long van trip. I had nothing. I was no one. I was totally alone, and all that my future held was the execution chamber.

As I sank down on my bunk, feeling every metal spring through the thin mattress, I heard my own voice in my head: Jesus Christ, Casey. You’re really in trouble here.

Rachel

Rachel

So Anna had somehow known, or at least suspected, my true identity. She had told Alex, though he perhaps had not believed her. And someone else had made the calculated decision to sell this information to the press. They had looked into my past and discovered it had been carefully erased, that Rachel Caldwell had no history, no family, no work experience. And who was it? Someone perhaps whose business it was to dig into my life a little, who knew me better than anyone locally. Who had been Anna’s friend. Who always needed money for the shelter, who might have decided it was worth sacrificing one human being, a possible murderer, in order to save dozens of dogs. In other words, Marilyn. Kind, frowzy Marilyn, with her rumpled clothes and red cheeks. The closest thing I had to a friend around here. Could she really have done this? How would she have got hold of that picture of me at Disneyland with the Safran kids? I didn’t want to believe it, but on the other hand, I was a convicted murderer and I had managed to keep it secret until now. People hide deep pockets of secrecy, of darkness, and we don’t like to admit it.