Sunday, July 14th

The next evening, Patrick woke before sundown and went to the kitchen for his final breakfast. It was silent as usual, and he imagined they'd be glad when he was gone so they could talk again. That was, if they talked to one another. He wasn't sure they did.

Christian pressed a pack of cigarettes on him and wished him luck with his fight and his freedom. "Who knows," he joked. "Maybe you'll be the first to get out and have a real life." His smile ...