When she still didn’t get it the agent explained, “Inside prison. You’ll have to be segregated. Or you wouldn’t last a week. That’ll be tough, Amelia. That’ll be nasty tough.”

“But nobody knows I’m a cop.”

Dellray laughed faintly. “They’ll know ever-single-thing there is to know ’bout you by the time you get yourself issued your jumpsuit and linen.”

“I haven’t collared anybody down here. Why would they care that I’m a cop?”

“Don’t make a splinter of difference where you’re from,” Dellray said, eyeing Geberth, who nodded in confirmation. “They ab-so-lutely won’t keepya in general population.”

“So it’s basically five years in solitary.”

“I’m afraid so,” Geberth said.

She closed her eyes and felt nausea course through her.

Five years of not moving, of claustrophobia, of nightmares …

And, as an ex-convict, how could she possibly think about becoming a mother? She choked on the despair.

“So?” the lawyer asked. “What’s it going to be?”

Sachs opened her eyes. “I’ll take the plea.”

The room was crowded. Sachs saw Mason Germain, a few of the other deputies. A grim couple, eyes red, probably Jesse Corn’s parents, sat in the front row. She wanted badly to say something to them but their contemptuous gaze kept her silent. She saw only two faces that looked at her kindly: Mary Beth McConnell and a heavy woman who was presumably her mother. There was no sign of Lucy Kerr. Or of Lincoln Rhyme. She supposed that he didn’t have the heart to watch her being led off in chains. Well, that was all right; she didn’t want to see him under these circumstances either.

The bailiff led her to the defense table. He left the shackles on. Sol Geberth sat beside her.

They rose when the judge entered and the wiry man in a bulky black robe sat down at the tall bench. He spent some minutes looking over documents and talking with his clerk. Finally he nodded and the clerk said, “The people of the state of North Carolina versus Amelia Sachs.”

The judge nodded to the prosecutor from Raleigh, a tall, silver-haired man, who rose. “Your Honor, the defendant and the state have entered into a plea arrangement, whereby the defendant has agreed to plead guilty to second-degree manslaughter in the death of Deputy Jesse Randolph Corn. The state waives all other charges and is recommending a sentence of five years, to be served without possibility of parole or reduction.”

“Miss Sachs, you’ve discussed this arrangement with your attorney?”

“I have, Your Honor.”

“And he’s told you that you have the right to reject it and proceed to trial?”

“Yes.”

“And you understand that by accepting this you will be pleading guilty to a felony homicide charge.” “Yes.”

“You’re making this decision willingly?”

She thought of her father, of Nick. And of Lincoln Rhyme. “I am, yes.”