The captain’s grin widened to a phony smile. “And who’s this little lady?”

“Lieutenant Mary Smithson, state police,” she said, glaring in response to his condescending tone.

“Well, Detective Coletti and Lieutenant Smithson, it’s gonna be hard to facilitate your request. The governor’s already signed O’Reilly’s death warrant, and he’s scheduled to be transferred to Rockville tomorrow.”

“I don’t care about the warrant,” Coletti said, watching the captain turn red as Smithson and the other guards looked on. “Our department’s been in touch with the governor’s office. They’re waiting for the results of our investigation before granting a stay of execution. So either you let us talk to O’Reilly, or I’ll have the governor’s office call the corrections commissioner at home.”

The captain looked like he wanted to say something. Coletti looked like he wanted him to. Smithson and the guards looked entertained by the exchange.

As the game of verbal chicken stretched out for a few seconds more, Coletti stared the captain down and waited. After ten years of living with the Confessional Murders, he wasn’t about to let a prison guard stand between him and the truth. He was determined to get the answers he’d come for, and he didn’t care whom he offended in the process.

“Gimme a second,” the captain said, knowing he couldn’t risk a call from the governor’s office.

The two other guards stood by silently, watching as the captain went into the back room to make a call of his own.

Coletti looked at Smithson, who nodded ever so slightly to show that she approved of his negotiation techniques.

When the captain returned from the back room, it was clear that the fight was over.

“You’ll both need to leave everything down here, including your guns, badges, and cell phones,” the captain said through clenched teeth. “Apparently the corrections commissioner already received a call, so I’ve been asked to escort you to the unit.”

“Good,” Coletti said with a tight smile.

He and Smithson handed over their belongings to one of the guards. A few minutes later, Coletti and Smithson were being whisked through locked doors and checkpoints leading to Graterford’s infamous death row. When they walked through the final door leading to the two-booth visiting room, the captain directed them to two chairs in front of a glass barrier encased in a wood and metal booth.

“I’m gonna need you both to take a seat over there,” the captain said. “Father O’Reilly will be out shortly.”

Coletti and Smithson squeezed into the small space. That forced them to be closer than they’d been all day, and each was keenly aware of the other. Coletti could detect the faint hint of Smithson’s fruity perfume. She could see an artery pulsating in his neck, and she knew that he was nervous.