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sheepishly and reached for his wallet. “I don’t believe he embarrasses me like this. One little misstep, and I have to be humiliated for the rest of my life. Rumpelstiltskin is the code word, by the way.” He leveraged his Nevada driver’s license out of his wallet. Thanks to some fast work at Kinko’s, it identified him as Bradley Campanella. It was a calculated risk to include the identification in the ruse, but it worked well to put people at ease as they violated long-standing company policy.
    From the brief glance that Sam gave the license, he might just as well have put Santa Claus’s picture on it. Her fingers flew on the keyboard, and she read some more. Brad didn’t like what he saw pass in front of her eyes, but he was in too deep to show paranoia now. He’d learned over the years that if you just kept your face passive and friendly, you could get away with anything.
    â€œOkay, Mr. Campanella,” Sam said at last, “how many keys do you need?”
    â€œTwo, please.”
    Sam pulled two plastic cards out of a slot at the front of her desk and did some more computer work to turn them into keys. Brad took the opportunity to scan the room. He didn’t know squat about art, but the huge oil canvasses on the walls all looked like originals. Very expensive ones at that.
    â€œHere you go,” Sam said, handing him the key. “Are you familiar with our hotel?”
    â€œActually, no, I’m not.”
    â€œOkay, then, well, you’re in room 9000. I think you’ll like it very much. If not, please let us know and we’ll make sure that everything suits you. Whatever you need, charge it to the room. Can I have someone carry luggage for you?”
    Brad pushed away from the counter. “No, we’re fine, thanks.”
    â€œThere’s another note in your file about the Couture Shoppe?”
    It took him a second, but then he remembered. “Oh, yes, of course.”
    Hailey read from her computer screen as she told him, “Pamela is waiting for your phone call, and she’s very excited about what she’s found.”
    Brad beamed. “Excellent. I’ll tell you what. If it’s not too much trouble, could you go ahead and call her and have her meet us in the room in say, ten minutes?”
    Sam was already reaching for the telephone. “Of course,” she said. “Enjoy your stay at the Ritz Carlton.”
    Brad walked back toward Nicki, who was nearly dozing in her chair. “Okay, we’re set. Are you all right?”
    â€œI’m just tired,” she said. “We’ve got a room?”
    Brad fanned the two keys like so many playing cards. “The top floor,” he said. “The Governor’s Suite.”
    Nicki gasped and hissed, “Brad, you can’t steal a hotel room.”
    He helped her out of her chair. “Who says I’m stealing? Just ask the folks at the front desk. My father is giving us this trip as a present.”

    March 16
    Georgen tossed my cell three times this week. He still scares me.
    I finally met Mrs. Johnson today. The way she smiled and squealed when she saw me, you’d have thought that I was really her son. She said that she’d heard a lot about me through Derek. She knew all about the robbery that got me here, and she said that she was going to talk to Derek’s lawyer about appealing my case. I told her not to bother, but she said she’s going to anyway.
    The visiting area is just like you see in the movies. No physical contact. We talk through a telephone and look at each other through the thick glass. Mrs. Johnson told me all about a bunch of people I’ve never heard of. Cousin This and Uncle That, and about a family reunion. It was a look at the outside. It was good, but I’m not sure I ever want to do it again. I can’t deal with hope right now.

Chapter Two
    T he elevator car dinged as it glided to a halt, and the doors slid open