Ralph released Sam's head, and wiped tears from his eyes. Sam didn't move, but his shoulders were shaking. Adam squeezed him even tighter.

Randy Dupree started whistling another stanza of "Just a Closer Walk with Thee." His notes were clear and precise, and they echoed nicely along the tier.

"Preacher," Sam said as his back stiffened, "will those little Kramer boys be in heaven?"

"Yes."

"But they were Jews."

"All children go to heaven, Sam."

"Will I see them up there?"

"I don't know. There's a lot about heaven we don't know. But the Bible promises that there will be no sorrow when we get there."

"Good. Then I hope I see them."

The unmistakable voice of Colonel Nugent broke the calm. The tier door clanged, rattled, and opened. He marched five feet to the door of the Observation Cell. Six guards were behind him. "Sam, it's time to go to the Isolation Room," he said. "It's eleven o'clock."

The three men stood, side by side. The cell door opened, and Sam stepped out. He smiled at Nugent, then he turned and hugged the reverend. "Thanks," he said.

"I love you, brother!" Randy Dupree yelled from his cell, not ten feet away.

Sam looked at Nugent, and asked, "Could I say good-bye to my friends?"

A deviation. The manual plainly said that the prisoner was to be taken directly from the Observation Cell to the Isolation Room, with nothing being mentioned about a final promenade down the tier. Nugent was dumbstruck, but after a few seconds rallied nicely. "Sure, but make it quick."

Sam took a few steps and clasped Randy's hands through the bars. Then he stepped to the next cell and shook hands with Harry Ross Scott.

Ralph Griffin eased past the guards and left the tier. He found a dark corner and wept like a child. He would not see Sam again. Adam stood in the door of the cell, near Nugent, and together they watched Sam work his way down the hallway, stopping at each cell, whispering something to each inmate. He spent the most time with J. B. Gullitt, whose sobs could be heard.

Then he turned and walked bravely back to them, counting steps as he went, smiling at his pals along the way. He took Adam by the hand. "Let's go," he said to Nugent.

There were so damned many guards packed together at the end of the tier that it was a tight squeeze just to get by them. Nugent went first, then Sam and Adam. The mass of human congestion added several degrees to the temperature and several layers to the stuffy air. The show of force was necessary, of course, to subdue a reluctant prisoner, or perhaps to scare one into submission. It seemed awfully silly with a little old man like Sam Cayhall.

The walk from one room to another took only seconds, a distance of twenty feet, but Adam winced with every painful step. Through the human tunnel of armed guards, through the heavy steel door, into the small room. The door on the opposite wall was shut. It led to the chamber.

A flimsy cot had been hauled in for the occasion. Adam and Sam sat on it. Nugent closed the door, and knelt before them. The three of them were alone. Adam again placed his arm around Sam's shoulders.

Nugent was wearing a terribly pained expression. He placed a hand on Sam's knee, and said, "Sam, we're gonna get through this together. Now-"

"You goofy fool," Adam blurted, amazed at this remarkable utterance.

"He can't help it," Sam said helpfully to Adam. "He's just stupid. He didn't even realize it."

Nugent felt the sharp rebuke, and tried to think of something proper to say. "I'm just trying to get through this, okay?" he said to Adam.

"Why don't you just leave?" Adam said.

"You know something, Nugent?" Sam asked. "I've read tons of law books. And I've read pages and pages of prison regulations. And nowhere have I read anything that requires me to spend my last hour with you. No law, statute, regulation, nothing."

"Just get the hell out of here," Adam said, ready to strike if necessary.

Nugent jumped to his feet. "The doctor will enter through that door at eleven-forty. He'll stick a stethoscope to your chest, then leave. At eleven fifty-five, I will enter, also through that door. At that time, we'll go into the Chamber Room. Any questions?"

"No. Leave," Adam said, waving at the door. Nugent made a quick exit.

Suddenly, they were alone. With an hour to go.

TWO IDENTICAL PRISON VANS rolled to a stop in front of the Visitors Center, and were boarded by the eight lucky reporters and one lone sheriff. The law allowed, but did not require, the sheriff of the county where the crime was committed to witness the execution. rolled to a stop in front of the Visitors Center, and were boarded by the eight lucky reporters and one lone sheriff. The law allowed, but did not require, the sheriff of the county where the crime was committed to witness the execution.

The man who was the sheriff of Washington County in 1967 had been dead for fifteen years, but the current sheriff was not about to miss this event. He had informed Lucas Mann earlier in the day that he fully intended to invoke the power of the law. Said he felt like he owed it to the people of Greenville and Washington County.

Mr. Elliot Kramer was not present at Parchman. He had planned the trip for years, but his doctor intervened at the last moment. His heart was weak and it was just too risky. Ruth Kramer had never thought seriously of witnessing the execution. She was at home in Memphis, sitting with friends, waiting for it to end.

There would be no members of the victims' family present to witness the killing of Sam Cayhall.

The vans were heavily photographed and filmed as they left and disappeared on the main drive. Five minutes later, they stopped at the gates of MSU. Everyone was asked to step outside, where they were checked for cameras and recorders. They reboarded the vans and were cleared through the gates. The vans drove through the grass along the front of MSU, then around the bullpens on the west end, then stopped very near the ambulance.

Nugent himself was waiting. The reporters stepped from the vans and instinctively began looking wildly around, trying to grasp it all to record later. They were just outside a square red-brick building that was somehow attached to the low, flat structure that was MSU. The little building had two doors. One was closed, the other was waiting for them.

Nugent was not in the mood for nosy reporters. He hurriedly guided them through the open door. They stepped into a small room where two rows of folding chairs were waiting, facing an ominous panel of black drapes.

"Take a seat please," he said rudely. He counted eight reporters, one sheriff. Three seats were empty. "It is now eleven-ten," he said dramatically. "The prisoner is in the Isolation Room. Before you here, on the other side of these curtains, is the Chamber Room. He will be brought in at five minutes before twelve, strapped in, the door locked. The curtains will be opened at exactly midnight, and when you see the chamber the prisoner will already be inside it, less than two feet from the windows. You will see only the back of his head. I didn't design this, okay? It should take about ten minutes before he is pronounced dead, at which time the curtains will be closed and you'll return to the vans. You'll have a long wait, and I'm sorry this room has no air conditioning. When the curtains open, things will happen quickly. Any questions?"

"Have you talked to the prisoner?"

"Yes."

"How's he holding up?"

"I'm not getting into all that. A press conference is planned at one, and I'll answer those questions then. Right now I'm busy." Nugent left the witness room and slammed the door behind him. He walked quickly around the corner, and entered the Chamber Room.

"WE HAVE LESS than an hour. What would you like to talk about?" Sam asked. than an hour. What would you like to talk about?" Sam asked.

"Oh, lots of things. Most of it unpleasant, though."

"It's kinda hard to have an enjoyable conversation at this point, you know."

"What are you thinking right now, Sam? What's going through your mind?"

"Everything."

"What are you afraid of?"

"The smell of the gas. Whether or not it's painful. I don't want to suffer, Adam. I hope it's quick. I want a big whiff of it, and maybe I'll just float away. I'm not afraid of death, Adam, but right now I'm afraid of dying. I just wish it was over. This waiting is cruel."

"Are you ready?"

"My hard little heart is at peace. I've done some bad things, son, but I feel like God might give me a break. I certainly don't deserve one."

"Why didn't you tell me about the man who was with you?"

"It's a long story. We don't have much time."

"It could've saved your life."

"No, nobody would've believed it. Think about it. Twenty-three years later I suddenly change my story and blame it all on a mystery man. It would've been ridiculous."

"Why'd you lie to me?"

"I have reasons."

"To protect me?"

"That's one of them."

"He's still out there, isn't he?"

"Yes. He's close by. In fact, he's probably out front with all the other loonies right now. Just watching. You'd never see him, though."

"He killed Dogan and his wife?"

"Yes."

"And Dogan's son?"

"Yes."

"And Clovis Brazelton?"

"Probably. He's a very talented killer, Adam. He's deadly. He threatened me and Dogan during the first trial."

"Does he have a name?"

"Not really. I wouldn't tell you anyway. You can never breathe a word of this."

"You're dying for someone else's crime."

"No. I could've saved those little boys. And God knows I've killed my share of people. I deserve this, Adam."

"No one deserves this."

"It's far better than living. If they took me back to my cell right now and told me I'd stay there until I died, you know what I'd do?"

"What?"

"I'd kill myself."

After spending the last hour in a cell, Adam couldn't argue with this. He could not begin to comprehend the horror of living twenty-three hours a day in a tiny cage.

"I forgot my cigarettes," Sam said, patting his shirt pocket. "I guess this is a good time to quit."

"Are you trying to be funny?"

"Yeah."

"It's not working."

"Did Lee ever show you the book with my lynching picture in it?"

"She didn't show it to me. She told me where it was, and I found it."

"You saw the picture."

"Yes."

"A regular party, wasn't it?"

"Pretty sad."

"Did you see the other picture of the lynching, one page over?"

"Yes. Two Kluckers."

"With robes and hoods and masks."

"Yes, I saw it."

"That was me and Albert. I was hiding behind one of the masks."

Adam's senses were beyond the point of shock. The gruesome photograph flashed through his mind, and he tried to purge it. "Why are you telling me this, Sam?"

"Because it feels good. I've never admitted it before, and there's a certain relief in facing the truth. I feel better already."

"I don't want to hear any more."

"Eddie never knew it. He found that book in the attic, and somehow figured out I was in the other party photo. But he didn't know I was one of the Kluckers."

"Let's not talk about Eddie, okay?"

"Good idea. What about Lee?"

"I'm mad at Lee. She skipped out on us."

"It would've been nice to see her, you know. That hurts. But I'm so glad Carmen came."

Finally, a pleasant subject. "She's a fine person," Adam said.