She was looking down, but he could see her smiling at the thought. 'I know.'
'Even if my sentence is commuted, I'll never-'
'I know,' she repeated, looking up at him. 'You'll never be free. You'll never be able to touch me or be with me or…' her voice trailed off. 'We can't really get married, Martin. Not officially.'
'Yes.' He could see that now. An was a detective and Martin was a convicted triple murderer (or would be soon. He had another trial coming up in the spring – the evidence was not pretty). They were cat and dog, oil and water, night and day. There were too many things standing between them; the rice alone was a logistical nightmare.
An's voice was soft, lilting. 'No one can ever know about us, Martin. It'll almost be like you're a figment of my imagination.' Her face had colored again, a beautiful shade of red that made the winter-time eczema around her nostrils almost disappear. An asked, 'Do you know what I'm saying, Martin? Do you understand what I mean?'
'
About the Author
Karin Slaughter grew up in a small south Georgia town and has been writing short stories and novels since she was a child. She is the author of the Grant County series of international bestsellers
![](/pic/3/4/6/0/0//pic_2.jpg)