Throughout the writing of this book, I’ve had a wonderful team cheering me on, offering advice, and providing me with the emotional nourishment I needed to keep forging ahead. Many, many thanks to my agent, friend, and guiding light, Meg Ruley, and to Jane Berkey, Don Jean, and the fabulous folks at the Jane Rotrosen Agency. I owe thanks as well to my superb editor, Linda Marrow, to Gina Centrello, for her unflagging enthusiasm, to Louis Mendez, for keeping me on top of things, to Gilly Hailparn and Marie Coolman, for supporting me through the sad, dark days after September 11th, guiding me safely home. Thanks also to Peter Mars his information on the Boston P.D., and to Selina Walker, my cheerleader on the other side of the pond.

Finally, my deepest thanks to my husband, Jacob, who knows just how difficult it is to live with a writer-and sticks with me anyway.

Today I watched a man die.

It was an unexpected event, and I still marvel at the fact that this drama unfolded at my very feet. So much of what passes for excitement in our lives cannot be anticipated, and we must learn to savor the spectacles as they come, and appreciate the rare thrills that punctuate the otherwise monotonous passage of time. And my days do pass slowly here, in this world behind walls, where men are merely numbers, distinguished not by our names, nor by our god-given talents, but by the nature of our trespasses. We dress alike, eat the same meals, read the same worn books from the same prison cart. Every day is like another. And then some startling incident reminds us that life can turn on a dime.