"You're sure? You've been on death row?" Why did she bother?

He closed her file and slipped it into his briefcase, all nice and tidy. Out of sight, out of mind. She'd been relegated to lifelong storage, as far as he was concerned. As far as everyone was concerned.

"Can I tell the prosecutor it's a deal?" He actually looked hopeful.

"Let me think about it." She wasn't going to make his day when he'd just tanked hers-and probably all the rest of her days. And she wasn't letting him out of here that quickly, either.

"I have a question," she said. "I saw a report on the news yesterday morning about the remains of a woman's body that had washed up in Baja."

"Yeah, I saw that, too." Paul closed his briefcase and straightened his tie. "Apparently they weren't able to identify the remains. Her teeth had been broken out. They couldn't tell whether by accident or foul play. Lousy way to go."

Marnie didn't respond. It felt as if the ceiling had crashed down on her, and she could hardly hold up her head. Her disappointment was profound, and Paul Esposito had noticed. His hand was frozen on his briefcase, and he was watching her with more interest than he'd shown the entire meeting.

"Why did you ask about the body in Baja?"

Marnie shrugged. It was her turn. "Nothing specific. My husband's down there on a business trip, and I was a little concerned." She let it go at that, but apparently she'd triggered something she hadn't intended to. Paul's attention was now riveted on her.

"Ms. Fairmont, when is your husband coming back? Was his business trip in any way related to your case?"

Was Andrew coming back would be the better question. Now that she had Paul's attention, Marnie realized there might be an opportunity to use the resources of the public defender's office to find Andrew. If she said the word, would this man send out the dogs? But Marnie wasn't ready to make that decision. She was still thinking about the consequences to Andrew, and even to Julia.

It felt as if she held both their fates in her hands, and there were no good choices. It was one thing to try and save her own life, but could she live with herself if she had to destroy others to do it? Did she owe Andrew or Julia anything? No, she didn't. In theory, the answer was easy. But in reality it was much more complicated.

Julia's raw desperation was vivid in Marnie's mind. She seemed to urgently believe that acknowledging an illegitimate child would destroy her life-and maybe it would, given the rarefied life Julia led. Possibly she would be shunned, a social outcast. Marnie wondered if there was more to it.

Maybe she should have bargained with Julia. She could have insisted that Julia get Gramma Jo out of that dismal nursing home, return her to her cottage and pay for whatever outside care was necessary. That wouldn't be too high a price, would it? Marnie would spend her life in jail, but have the comfort of knowing her grandmother was back at the cottage, safe and secure, if she could trust Julia to do that. And then there was Andrew. Maybe Marnie should have found her own private detective to track him down. Or insisted on going to Mexico with him. Better yet, demand he not go at such a difficult time.

Too many maybes. She couldn't decide now. She couldn't even think. "My husband is due back in a couple of days," she said, keeping it vague.

"And what about the prosecutor? What do I tell her?"

"I need time."

"Sure, whatever." He got up to leave, signaling the deputy, who'd been waiting by the door and would take Marnie back to her cell.

A short time later, locked in for the night and staring at the tray of cold slop that was her dinner, Marnie wondered if there was any way out of this trap that she herself had helped set. She was still reeling from hearing that the remains couldn't be identified. Even if she told Paul Esposito who she was and confessed to Butch's murder, there was no way to prove it.

Alison's fingerprint records must have been switched. Andrew seemed like the likely culprit there, but he hadn't bothered to tell her what he'd done, and Marnie had no records. Before he could make the switch, he would have had to obtain Marnie's fingerprints from Marnie herself, and without her knowledge. Possibly when she was in the hospital, unconscious.

The thought made her queasy. Would an innocent man have gone to such lengths to insulate himself from murder charges? Worse, not even DNA, the most basic and irrefutable method of identification known, could help Marnie prove her identity now. A DNA test would only confirm that Julia was her mother-and be taken as proof positive that Marnie, who looked like Alison, plus had all of Alison's identification, including driver's license, social security number and fingerprints, was Alison.

No one would believe her. Ever. Nor would they believe Gramma Jo, who had always been seen as eccentric and would now be dismissed as senile, Marnie was sure.

She crouched down, staring at the unrecognizable food and wondering how hungry she would have to get before she could eat it without gagging. She'd always thought of herself as a fighter. She'd survived an abortion attempt, a near drowning and a lifetime of scorn and hatred. But it felt as if there was no way to survive this. She didn't know who or what to fight. She couldn't even prove her own existence.

As a kid there'd been times when she wondered why she'd been born. It sounded self-pitying, and she wasn't proud of those black moods, but she had honestly felt like a cosmic joke. The very same question came to her now. Why had she been born? To end up like this? She knew that some lives were visited with more pain than others, but she didn't understand how that worked, how pain got dealt out. How much was enough? An eternity? Because that's what it felt like she was facing now.

She wouldn't even be allowed to live out as herself the time she had left. And bizarre as it seemed, after years of longing to be someone else, she would rather have been the way she was, deformities and all.

But for some reason the most confounding question was Andrew. The only man who had ever professed to care about her had vanished. He could be dead, for all she knew. She almost wished he was, because the possibility that he was alive and responsible for this nightmare was unbearable.

Eventually, she lay down on the cement's unforgiving surface and prayed for sleep. She didn't want to think anymore. There were no solutions. Exhaustion took her in and out of the fitful struggle. She couldn't seem to stop wrestling, but at some point in the night, all that changed. Out of her hopelessness came an answer. And it was Paul Esposito who'd given her the way out.

As she sat up in the darkness, she heard for the first time the other inmates' shouts and obscenities. She wasn't alone in this cell block. She caught the stink of urine and the clanging of objects against the steel bars. She let the chaos into her consciousness for a moment and then tuned it out again. Survival.

The only one who cared about her was Gramma Jo, an aging woman who now needed to be cared for herself. Marnie really only had one choice. She would make a deal. No, two of them-one with Julia and one with the prosecutor. All she had to do was confess to the crimes she'd been charged with, and it would be over. Why prolong the pain and uncertainty? That way at least she would have some control over her life. It would be settled.

She had no desire to be a martyr. She didn't want to sacrifice herself or anyone else. This was the least of all the possible evils, and it was the only way she knew to ensure that the woman who'd raised her, and taught her everything she knew about strength and survival, would survive herself. That much was in Marnie's power, she hoped.

She touched her throat, knowing the chain wasn't there-and that she would find some way to exist without it. She had to. From now on she would make her own luck, her own way. And it was time to start.

"Guard!" Marnie called out. She went to the bars and shouted until the female guard finally appeared.

"I want to talk to my attorney again," Marnie told the woman, "as soon as possible."

"Julia?" Rebecca's voice came over the intercom in Julia's office. "It's a Paul Esposito for you. He says he's Alison's attorney."

Julia looked up from the letter she was writing. She set down the pen, her eyes riveted on the phone. She'd never heard of Paul Esposito, and she couldn't imagine why he was calling unless Marnie had decided to accept her offer. There was one other unthinkable possibility. Marnie was going public with her maternity claims.

"Julia? Are you going to take the call?"

"I have it," she said, picking up the phone. "Hello? Mr. Esposito?"

The attorney got right to the point. "Mrs. Fairmont, Alison has asked me to let you know that she plans to plead guilty to both charges."

Julia couldn't believe it. "Alison knows my conditions. There's no need for her to plead guilty to anything. I can still provide her with the best legal defense team in the country. Tell her that."

Esposito cleared his throat. Had she actually offended him?

"I'll pass that on," he said, "but it's not why I'm calling. Alison has made up her mind about the plea, but she's asking something of you."

Julia's palm was sweaty against the receiver. "What?"

"She's asking that you move one Josephine Hazelton back to her home in Mirage Bay and provide for all her needs there. I have the terms and conditions in writing and I can fax them to you for your signature, if you agree. They're quite straightforward, and I'm sure you'll find them fair."

He paused, as if to let her absorb the information. "Can I fax you the agreement?"

"Yes, of course. I'll have my assistant give you the fax number."

As she hung up the phone, Julia realized that she was free and clear. Relief washed over her. It almost made her dizzy, but there was no real joy in the feeling. If anything, she felt oddly bereft.

Five days. Marnie marked time by scratching tiny pieces of cement against the large slab she slept on. Four crude lines and a diagonal slash. She'd had no visitors, no word from anyone in that time, other than Paul Esposito, who'd come by to tell her he was trying to get her change-of-plea hearing moved up. Right now it was still two weeks away. Esposito had also given her a signed document from Julia, who'd agreed to provide care for Josephine Hazelton until her death. She'd accepted all of Marnie's terms, and they had been considerable.

Marnie wanted the cottage renovated and redecorated, according to her grandmother's wishes. She wanted Gramma Jo moved back and all her care provided, including a live-in companion and a home health care nurse as necessary. Julia was to pay any medical bills, plus provide all creature comforts-living expenses, a generous monthly allowance, an annual vacation.

Julia had agreed to it all and offered to throw in James Brainard for Alison's defense, but Marnie had refused. Why would she need him now? Everything was settled, and Marnie was at peace with her choice. For her, all the questions had been answered. Paul Esposito had promised to see that Julia followed through with the agreement, and he'd also arranged for Marnie to call her grandmother.

Over the aching lump in her throat, Marnie had told Gramma Jo that she had a surprise for her, and that she should be mentally preparing herself to go home soon. Marnie couldn't resist giving away that much of the surprise. Gramma Jo had broken down and cried. They'd both cried, and Marnie had hoped she could always hang on to the sweetness of those feelings.

Gramma wouldn't let Marnie go without asking her if she'd talked with Julia. Marnie had assured her that was part of the surprise, but she'd begged off answering any more questions, and then she'd made up a story about having to take a short trip with Andrew, so she wouldn't have to explain why she couldn't come visit. That conversation would come someday, but not now. Marnie wanted as much time as she could steal to savor the idea of her grandmother's return to the cottage with no shadows darkening that vision. It was the only thing keeping her alive right now.

She took a tiny pebble of cement and began to scratch out another day. Now there was nothing for her to do but wait.

"All rise," the clerk intoned as the judge, robed in black, assumed the bench. The clerk called the case of the County of San Diego versus Villard, read off the case number and the charges-two counts of murder in the first degree.

The judge turned on his microphone and spoke into it. "Mrs. Villard, your attorney tells me you want to change your plea to the charges against you?"

"I do, Your Honor." Marnie rose to her feet and stood at the defendant's table with Paul Esposito next to her. The judge had a fatherly look and a warm manner, but Marnie wasn't getting her hopes up. She had liked James Brainard's looks, too. "I'm pleading guilty to both charges."

The judge slipped on a pair of reading glasses and scanned the papers in front of him. "Not so fast, Mrs. Villard," he said. "Some things need to be covered before we get to your change of plea. Do you understand the charges that have been brought against you?"

"I do," Marnie said, uncomfortable with the way the judge was peering over his glasses at her. She just wanted this over.

"You understand that you have been charged with two counts of capital murder," he said, "and that the penalty for each count could result in the imposition of the death penalty, or in the alternative, a life sentence at a maximum security prison?"

Marnie stated that she did, and he continued asking her questions that stressed the gravity-and finality-of her decision. She answered in the affirmative to every question, robotically nodding her head. Yes, she understood.

"Thank you, Mrs. Villard. Now, would you please explain to me why you want to do this? You're young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Why not go through the trial process?"

The question stopped Marnie. She wasn't sure how to answer him. It had taken her an entire agonizing night to make the decision, and she'd been living with it for days. But how did she boil all of that down to a few words that would make sense to this godlike figure in a black robe?

Paul Esposito glanced at Marnie, as if to encourage her. She could feel the heat in her face, the dampness at her temples. Her skin was breaking out, and Paul must have seen it, too, because he spoke up immediately.

"Your Honor, Ms. Villard wants to pay her debt to society, and changing her plea is the first step. She has great remorse for what she's done and is willing to do whatever she can to make it right."

"Thank you, Mr. Esposito," the judge said with a raised eyebrow and great forbearance. "I'd like to hear that from Mrs. Villard herself, since she's the one whose life and liberty is at stake here."

Marnie understood that her attorney was trying to help her, but he'd gotten it completely wrong. He'd never asked her reasons, so he couldn't possibly express them for her. Worse, her struggle to come up with an answer was making her wonder if she'd made the right decision. This was her life and her liberty, as the judge pointed out. Maybe she wasn't ready to give it up without a fight.

She tried to speak, but couldn't get the words out. A strange sensation of numbness was invading her extremities. It was almost as if she were balanced on Satan's Teeth again. It would all be over once she jumped, and she wanted that, the freedom of nothingness, the release from pain. But her legs wouldn't move, her arms wouldn't move.

A tremor ripped up her spine, unlocking her. Feelings flooded her, and suddenly she was awash in sorrow and loss, consumed with rage at the unfairness of it all. "I just want it to be over," she said. "The alternative is unthinkable."

The judge frowned. "What alternative, Mrs. Villard? Can you tell me what you mean?"

Esposito spoke up again. "Your Honor, my client was very clear with me about what she wants. She may be having trouble expressing herself, but she fully understands the consequences of her actions and-"

The sound of a door banging open behind them interrupted the attorney. Marnie turned, half expecting to see Tony Bogart stride into the courtroom. If anyone would want to see Alison self-destruct, it would be Tony. But she didn't see him anywhere.

Stunned, she realized it was a woman who'd entered. Julia Fairmont? What could she possibly want? Marnie's first reaction was apprehension, but it evaporated the moment she realized there was nothing Julia could do to her now. Marnie was beyond being hurt by anyone.

"She's an imposter." Julia actually pointed her finger at Marnie. "She isn't, and never was, Alison Fairmont. My daughter is still missing, and I believe she was deliberately pushed from her husband's-Andrew Villard's-yacht." Julia spotted the bailiff coming toward her and began frantically waving her hands. "Wait, let me finish!"

Marnie wondered if she was having a breakdown. Her hair was disheveled, and she looked desperately out of control, at least for Julia.

The judge rose to his feet as the bailiff hooked her by the arm, clearly intending to eject her.

"Let her stay," the judge said. "I want to hear what she has to say."

Esposito spoke up again, addressing the bench. "Who is this woman-and why is she being allowed to interrupt the proceedings?"

The judge silenced him with a look. "This is my courtroom, Mr. Esposito." He directed his next question to Julia. "Please approach the bench and tell the court your name and your relationship to the accused."

Julia straightened her linen suit as she came forward, aligning the jacket and skirt. She combed a hand through her hair and then looked up abruptly with a tiny, nearly invisible shudder.

"I'm Julia Fairmont of Mirage Bay," she told the judge, "and the accused was living in my home, and pretending to be my daughter. She lied, deceived and took advantage of me, and if that isn't a crime worthy of capital punishment, it should be."

Julia's bitterness rang throughout the room. She probably would have continued to rail about Marnie's duplicity if the doors at the back hadn't crashed open again.

Andrew Villard entered the courtroom, and Julia fell quiet. Everyone fell quiet. Marnie had to lean against the table to steady herself. Her head was spinning. Had he found a way to force Julia to come forward?

"Excuse me, sir," the judge said, "are you a party to this proceeding?"

"I'm the accused's husband," Andrew explained.

"In that case, take a seat." The judge waved him toward the defendant's side of the gallery. "Mrs. Fairmont, would you be good enough to sit down until I call you. Are any other family members expected, or can we get on with this hearing?"

Julia stayed where she was, planted in the aisle in the middle of the courtroom. "Your Honor, that man isn't the accused's husband. He's Andrew Villard, my daughter's husband, and the accused is not my daughter."

The judge leaned forward, locking Julia in his sights like a sniper with a rifle. He clearly had no interest in Andrew at that moment. "The only person in this courtroom charged with a crime is Alison Fairmont Villard," he informed Julia. "Mrs. Fairmont, if the accused isn't your daughter, who is she?"

"Her real name is Marnie Hazelton." Begrudgingly, Julia added, "And she didn't kill anyone, except perhaps Butch Bogart."

The judge peered over his rimless glasses. "Unless I'm mistaken, Marnie Hazelton was one of the victims in this case."

"You're not mistaken," Julia said, "but unfortunately the county prosecutor's office was when they charged her. The accused is Marnie Hazelton."

Julia produced two documents. The first was a handwritten record of Marnie's birth, dated twenty-two years ago and signed by both Josephine Hazelton and Julia Fairmont. It listed Marnie's vital statistics at birth, her weight and height, and it detailed her disfigurements. It also had rudimentary hand and footprints, done in what looked like black ink.

According to Julia, Gramma Jo had prepared the document and insisted that Julia sign it, but had agreed to let Julia keep the only copy. For reasons she didn't explain, she had not destroyed it.

Marnie was amazed to hear Julia confess aloud that she'd had a baby out of wedlock, and that child was the accused, Marnie Hazelton. Marnie wondered what it had taken to make her come forward with that. Probably threats of death and dismemberment, she imagined. By Andrew?

The judge didn't want to hear the details of Julia's indiscretion. He urged her to come to the point, and she quickly produced the second document, a standard-looking birth certificate, also with hand and footprints.

"This is the official birth record of my missing daughter, Alison Fairmont," she said. "Your Honor, even if someone has tampered with Alison's prints in the criminal database, no one has touched these. This certificate has been in a safety deposit box since she was born."

The judge ordered Julia, the two attorneys, the court clerk and the bailiff to the bench. After a hushed conference, he rose and announced that court would recess until that afternoon, but no one was to leave the courthouse.

"We're fortunate to have an excellent forensics lab within the county complex," he told the gallery. "The hearing will reconvene as soon as the documents have been verified as authentic and the fingerprints analyzed."

In an ominous tone, he warned that if the certificates were valid, but the prints didn't match, he intended to dismiss the charges.

Four hours later his Honor did exactly as he'd warned. Over the prosecutor's furious objections, he threw the case out, saying the lab's findings were enough to convince him that the defendent was not Alison Fairmont-Villard. He remained firm even when the prosecutor argued that while Marnie Hazelton could not have murdered herself, she could have killed LaDonna Jeffries.

"The person charged with that crime is Alison Fairmont-Villard," the judge reminded the court, "and there is no one by that name in this courtroom. If the district attorney's office intends to charge Marnie Hazelton with a crime, then the necessary steps should be taken. Meanwhile, she's free to go. I'm releasing her on her own recognizance."

"No!" The prosecutor was swift and shrill. "Your Honor, it's imperative that Ms. Hazelton be held until we can determine what she's done."