You’ve heard the deal, I’ve answered your questions, it’s time to give me your answer.”

Her deadline brought all their emotions to a head.

Trish’s face blanched. She lowered her head and pressed her hands to either side of her temples as though experiencing a migraine. When she looked up her eyes had tears in them. It was clear she was waging a war with her conscience.

Rob was jittery, in a panic. No question what he wanted to do—his eyes were pleading with Trish.

Callie knew she had them.

“I’ll give you ten minutes,” she said briskly.” I’ll put my headphones on so you can talk privately, but you’ll have to remain in my sight at all times.”

“How do you know we won’t contact the police after you leave?” Trish said, wearily.

Callie laughed. “I’d love to hear that conversation.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think the police would believe you? Or let you keep a suitcase full of cash under these circumstances?”

Rob said, “Are we the first, or have you done this before?”

“This is my eighth suitcase.”

Again they looked at each other. Then Rob reached over, as though he wanted to stroke the bills.

Callie smiled and closed the top. “Nuh uh.”

“How many people actually took the money?” he asked. There was a sheen of sweat on his upper lip.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?” Trish asked.

“It could influence your decision and impact the social experiment. Look. Here’s what you need to know: when someone takes the money, my boss feels he’s gotten the blessing of a member of society to end the life of a murderer.”

“This is crazy. This is just crazy,” Trish whispered, as if daring herself to believe.

“People die every day,” Rob said. “And they’re going to die whether we get the money or someone else does.”

Trish looked at him absently, her mind a million miles away.

“They’re giving this money to someone,” Rob explained, “so why not us?”

“It’s too crazy,” Trish repeated. “Isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Callie said, putting on the headphones. “But the money—and the offer—are for real.”


 

Chapter 1

 

“And you, Mr. Creed,” she said.

I looked up from my mixing bowl. “Ma’am?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“Apart from making brownies? I’m with Homeland Security.”

Her name was Patty Feldson and she was conducting a home study as part of the adoption process. My significant other, Kathleen Gray, was hoping to adopt a six-year-old burn victim named Addie Dawes. Addie was the sole survivor of a home fire that claimed the lives of her parents and twin sister.