I needed to see the woman who had stood in its place.

She sat across from me in a small room at the county jail, stripped of the elegant clothes and the careful makeup, and without them she looked ten years older.

“I won’t ask you to forgive me,” she said.

“That would insult your intelligence.” I said nothing.

“I only want you to know that we made one fatal mistake, and it was your son.” “You made a mistake about both of us.” She lowered her eyes.

“We assumed you wouldn’t believe him.