“No . . . you . . . don’t understand. I haven’t been drinkin’. Come see me. Before it’s too late. I love you. I love you, John. You’ve always been my favorite.”

“You tell everybody that when you’re drunk.”

She started coughing. It sounded as if she dropped the phone. Her act was definitely improving.

It took maybe two minutes, which seemed like thirty, for her to pick up the phone again. When she did, she said, “I’ve got to see you, son . . . before I die.”

“What you’ve got to do is get sober. I’m hanging up now. Call me when you’re sober.”

12

The next morning as I was meeting with inmates and opening mail, I received another typed note.

Like before, it was a single piece of typing paper, trifolded, taped, with one typewritten word on the outside: Chaplain.

I carefully peeled back the tape and opened it.

I could tell immediately that it was produced by the same typewriter as the other one.

It read, Chaplain, if you don’t back off, I’m going to kill you. Just back off, or you’re dead. I will kill you and that girl you love. Killing’s better than fucking. I love it. I will probably fuck her and then kill her. But I might kill her then fuck her. Back off!

The institutional mail was delivered every day but Sunday. The note had probably been sent the previous night. Who was it about? I was in love with Anna, but was it obvious to anyone? The other note had spoken of protection, now this one of threat. Were they about two different women? Anna and who? Sandy Strickland? Who else had I been seen with recently?

My office door opened and Tom Daniels walked in.

I nodded toward one of the chairs across from my desk as I carefully folded the letter and stuck it in my desk drawer.

He sat down.

Looking better than he had yesterday, his face wasn’t as red, his eyes not as bloodshot.

He looked down at the clipboard that he was carrying, flipped through a couple of pages, then looked back up at me.

“Look, the warden said we’ve got to work together. Neither of us is happy about it, but whatcha gonna do, right?”

I knew the warden’s words alone were not enough to bring about this change in him.

“The investigation is more important than our dislike of one another. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t dislike you. I’d like to talk with you about what happened.”

“I’ve heard your excuses before.”

“I’ve never offered any excuses. You’ve only heard things from Susan.”

He shook his head. “Don’t want to talk about it. Just concentrate on the work. I don’t like you, but I can work with anyone.”