God, I needed to talk to him. But he wouldn’t answer my messages. I took a deep, juddering breath. ‘I wish you’d told me Anna knew who I was, Marilyn. This is serious – I think someone’s framing me. Someone tried to make it look as if I killed her. But I didn’t!’

She nodded, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘You need to go, Rachel. I can’t help you. I’m sorry, and I hope – well, I hope they find whoever killed Anna. For both our sakes.’

I turned and left, with a last look at Brandy, knowing I’d never go back to work at Happy Paws, that the sanctuary I’d found was lost to me. Even if this blew over, everyone round here knew I was Casey Adams. Racy Casey. I’d have to start over somewhere else, with a new name and another identity. How would I find work without revealing who I was? Something that didn’t require checks, I supposed.

On my way home, even on the isolated lake path, I kept my head down, anxiety flaring every time I passed someone. Marilyn was one of the few people I’d trusted even a little. Now, I could no longer do that. On my journey through town I recognised various people. The instructor from the activity camp. The yoga teacher, the librarian who kept books aside for me (never thrillers, I’d had enough of that for a lifetime). The little connections I’d made here. Did they all know who I was? Even if I managed to stay out of prison this time, I knew that my life in Coldwater was gone, up in smoke.

Casey

Casey

MARCH 2002

Before my arrest, my only knowledge of prison had come from soap operas and drama, where inevitably a character would end up stabbed in the shower by episode two. For the first few months I’d been terrified, trembling every time I queued for the bathroom, letting people cut in front of me if they wanted. Our showers were only twice a week, with the harshest, cheapest soap that left my skin dry and red.

Death Row prisoners were considered too dangerous to mingle with the others, so we spent most of the day in our cells. We took our exercise in a small dirt yard with a basketball hoop and no ball, alone with a guard, and in the distance I could see the larger yard where the regular prisoners exercised. I heard their voices, laughter even, and I wanted so much to be among them. One day, their sentences would come to an end and the door would open and they could walk out. Whereas I would never leave this place alive. There are so many degrees of hell, you have no idea.