Love on Death Row

The moment I walked into Salt Bay Penitentiary, I felt as though I’d been sucked into a different world.

Not only was it an intimidating check-in process, the guard who signed me in wasn’t exactly friendly.

It feels so depressing and sterile in here.

I hope this interview goes well, though. I really need to land this for my thesis.

I try not to let the nerves get to me.

I check my watch.

I really hate waiting.

I’ve been sitting here for the past fifteen minutes, staring at the same moss-green wall.

Finally, the door to Warden Jeffries’s office opens, and I spring to my feet, but the man who emerges isn’t wearing a suit.

He’s wearing a bright orange jumpsuit.

At first, I’m distracted by that and the handcuffs around his wrists. Then I notice the shackles around his ankles.

Finally, I look at his face.

He’s rugged and hardened, although something tells me he’s younger than he first appears. His dark hair is tousled, his frame muscular, and his strong jaw is clenched so tightly I can’t tell whether he’s angry or trying very hard not to be.

He gives me a slow once-over.

Is he checking me out?

I’m in shock. I should feel offended.

Why am I getting goosebumps?

Am I shocked? Scared? Turned on? Or maybe all three?

There’s something unnerving about the way he watches me. Something predatory. As though I’m not just a stranger sitting in a prison waiting room.

He’s watching me like I’m his prey.

The correctional officer behind him gives him a rough prod between the shoulder blades.

“Get going, Moreno. We don’t have all day.”

“Moreno” shuffles forward while I remain rooted to the spot, unsure whether I should move out of his way or pretend I haven’t noticed him staring.

As he passes, he slows down.

Then he tilts his head towards me as though he’s about to share a secret.

“You think you’re going to save my soul, Doc?”

His voice is deep and hushed. An almost imperceptible smile tugs at his lips, and I find myself holding my breath.

He raises his cuffed hands. The sudden clink of the chains makes me gasp.

“I’m beyond saving.”

He chuckles softly, narrowing his eyes at me.

Before I can respond, the officer shoves him forward again, harder this time.

“I said get moving. You wanna night in solitary?”

Moreno scowls but starts walking again, the chain between his ankles scraping against the floor with every step.

I watch until they disappear around the corner.

What the hell was that?

Before I can make sense of my reaction, another man pokes his head through the open office door.

“Come on in, uh…”

I gather myself and summon a professional smile.

“Reina Aikawa. And thank you, Warden Jeffries.”

“Ah, yes. Ms Aikawa. Good to finally meet you.”

He extends his hand, and I shake it.

His gaze travels over me before his eyebrows lift.

“Oh. I wasn’t expecting a woman…”

Really?

I force myself to stay calm and smile.

Okay, Reina. Let’s be diplomatic. Getting rejected before the interview even starts would be impressive.

“I have many years of counselling experience, and I’m confident I can make a difference here.”

“I’m sure you do.” His smile looks strained. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

He steps aside and gestures towards his office. “Please, come in.”

I enter his office and wait for him to take his seat before sitting opposite him.

Several certificates hang on the wall behind his desk, along with photographs of Jeffries posing beside notable government figures.

Impressive.

He notices me looking and puffs out his chest.

“We take great pride in our reputation here at Salt Bay Penitentiary.”

“Yes, your reputation is outstanding.”

He seems pleased by the compliment, which gives me some hope that I’m clawing my way back from his initial disappointment over my inconvenient womanhood.

“So, you met Moreno outside just now?”

“Oh…yes.”

Moreno. That’s what the officer called him.

The memory of him whispering while staring directly into my eyes sends another shiver through me.

“What did you think of him?” Jeffries asks, cutting off my train of thought.

I consider the question carefully. “He seems troubled. Closed off.”

Jeffries nods. “Good observation. He’s one of our most disturbed inmates. And he’ll be your patient if I decide you’re right for us.”

He pauses for effect.

“I have a few other people to interview after you.”

Then he puts the final nail in the coffin.

“I’m just not sure a woman can handle someone like Moreno. He’ll be quite the challenge. He hates authority, refuses to open up and provokes people every chance he gets. What makes you think you’re the right person for this? Why do you even want to bother with these lowlifes?"

I take a slow breath.

“Lowlifes”? Wow, I thought he was just sexist.

Turns out he’s an asshole as well.

“I’ve been a counsellor for nine years, specialising in patients with severe trauma. For the past four years, I’ve concentrated on working with violent criminals.”

Yeah, I worked my butt off.

“I’m also undertaking a thesis in criminal psychology for my doctorate, and having access to someone like Moreno would be invaluable to my research. I assure you, I’m well equipped to handle any hardened criminal you happen to throw at me.”

Jeffries shrugs. “The government program does come with additional funding.”

Right. This is what he’s really interested in. Not helping people.

Maybe I need to give him something else to think about.

“At the heart of this program is understanding what drives people to commit violent crimes and identifying those at risk before it’s too late. It’s about preventing future Dahmers or Bundys.”

“Or Morenos,” Jeffries says with a snort.

“Exactly. Or Morenos.”

He falls silent, and I can only hope I’ve argued my case well enough.

Finally, he begins to nod.

“All right, Ms Aikawa. Colour me impressed.”

I finally relax a little.

“To be honest, I don’t believe in this program. I don’t think criminals, especially Moreno, have anything valuable to offer you.” He extends his hand across the desk. “But welcome to Salt Bay Penitentiary.”

I got it?

I shake his hand eagerly. “Thank you, Warden Jeffries.” I try to contain my excitement.

He may not believe in the program, but I do.

“All right. As I mentioned, you’ll be working with Moreno. Since the program focuses specifically on death-row inmates, I chose him because his execution date is the soonest.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, as though someone’s impending death means nothing to him.

“I’ve already explained the program to him. Not surprisingly, he couldn’t care less about it. But it gives him time away from some of his usual duties, so that’s a plus in his book.”

Then he looks at me more seriously. “I do have to lay down some ground rules.”

He begins rattling them off.

“Don’t believe everything he tells you, if he talks at all. Don’t underestimate how dangerous he is. He’ll remain shackled during every session. And absolutely no romantic involvement with anyone in the prison.”

The final warning takes me aback. “I take my job seriously. I’ve never crossed that line with anyone I’ve worked with.”

“Very good. Officer Simon will be your main point of contact. He’ll sign you in and out and explain anything else you need to know about how we operate here.” Jeffries leans back in his chair. “Are you busy after this?”

“No, not really. Why?”

“Since we’ve settled on you, perhaps you’d like to see where you’ll be working?”

“That would be terrific, actually.”

He picks up the phone. “Simon, are you free? Could you come to my office?”

After putting the phone down, he turns his attention back to me.

“When would you like to start officially?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?” he asks. “The sooner we start, the sooner I get my funding.”

Of course.

“That’s fine by me.”

I didn’t expect it to be so soon, but I can do this.

A knock sounds at the door, and Jeffries rises from his chair.

“That should be Simon.” He picks up a manila folder from his desk and holds it out to me. “This is everything you need to know about Moreno.”

I accept it gratefully. “Thank you, Warden Jeffries.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Ms Aikawa. I look forward to hearing about your progress.”

He opens the door and addresses the officer waiting outside.

“Simon, show Ms Aikawa her office so she can familiarise herself with it, then see her out. She’ll be starting tomorrow, so you can arrange an appropriate timetable with her.”

I step back into the waiting area, where a friendly-looking officer sits waiting. He rises as soon as he sees me.

“Hello, Ms Aikawa. I’m Officer Simon.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Reina, but you can call me Rei.”

“Nice to meet you too, Rei. I’ll show you to your office now.”

His smile seems genuine - already a significant improvement over the warden.

Something about Jeffries was off-putting. He smiled the whole time but there was no sincerity behind his eyes.

Simon leads me through the prison corridors until we stop outside a closed door. He unlocks it and holds it open for me.

“This will be your office from now on. There’s a lock on the inside.”

The room is pleasant enough, although bare. A desk and two chairs occupy most of the space, and a coffee machine sits in one corner.

Metal brackets have been bolted to one side of the desk.

Simon notices me staring at them.

“Those are for securing the inmates during your sessions. It provides some added protection.”

That makes me frown. “I understand they may be dangerous, but restraints don’t exactly promote an environment of trust. I need them to feel comfortable enough to open up to me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. We haven’t exactly had a shrink here before.” He shrugs. “But seeing as you’ll be dealing with Moreno, they’re probably a good idea.”

I bite my tongue. I don’t want to seem difficult before I’ve even officially started. Maybe I can convince them to change the arrangement eventually.

“At least you’ve got your own coffee machine,” Simon says, pointing towards the corner.

“Well, that is something.”

We share a laugh before I sit down and place Moreno’s file on the desk.

“Whenever you have a session, I’ll be right outside your door. There’s also a panic button underneath the desk.”

I bend down and locate the small red button.

All these precautions are starting to scare me.

“I’ll have my first session tomorrow, so I need to familiarise myself with his file.”

Simon nods. “Can I give you some advice?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t look the other inmates in the eye if you pass them. Don’t engage with them, and don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”

“Attention?”

He hesitates before continuing.

“Try to dress appropriately. Remember, some of these men haven’t been around a woman for a long time.”

“Oh. Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

God, I hope I’m not blushing.

“If that’s everything, I’ll see you out.”

“Yes, thank you.”

I slip Moreno’s file into my bag and follow Simon back to the entrance.

After I sign out, he adds his initials beside my signature. “Can we settle on a regular time for your sessions?”

“Of course. They usually run for sixty to ninety minutes, so I’d like a two-hour block just in case. I’m hoping to hold two sessions a week. Since I’m starting tomorrow, could we make them Tuesdays and Fridays?”

Simon enters the details into the computer.

“All right. I’ll pass it on to the warden, but it should be fine. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms Aikawa.”

“Rei, remember?”

“Have a good day, Rei.”

“You too, Simon.”

I give him a final smile before leaving the prison.

A short time later, I’m back in my usual office. I take Moreno’s file out of my bag, eager to read it, when someone knocks on my door.

“Hey, there. How was it?”

I look up to see my boss, Sarah.

“I got it!” I blurt out.

“You’re kidding! I thought you had stiff competition?”

“I guess I’m just that good. They knew I was the best.” I’m only half joking.

“Confidence is sexy!” she says with a laugh.

“By the way, I’m starting tomorrow.”

“God, you are good. All right, I’ve got a meeting, but good luck!”

“Thanks!” I call after her as she disappears down the corridor.

I take a sip of coffee and reach for the file again.

“Knock knock!”

This time it’s Keri, my best friend and colleague.

“I saw Sarah walking around with a huge smile on her face, so I figured it was good news. Congrats!”

“Thanks.”

She sits opposite me and drops a burrito on my desk.

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Oh, I just wanted to know who your client’s going to be,” she says innocently.

“You know I can’t tell you.”

“Well, since you’re working with death-row inmates for your thesis, I’ve already narrowed it down.”

“You should have gone into law.” I start unwrapping the burrito. “But thanks for lunch.”

“Fine. I’ve got work to do anyway.” She pouts as she gets up.

“I’ll shout you next time.” I wink at her.

“Don’t worry about it. See you later!”

Once she’s gone, I take another bite and finally open the folder.

A small photograph sits at the top of the first page. Beneath it is his name: Matheus Moreno.

Even in the photo, he looks distant and angry. He’s been at Salt Bay for eleven years.

Then I reach the details of his conviction.

Six people?

My heart beats a little faster. Yesterday, I stood close enough to hear him whisper.

I glance towards my laptop. I could search for everything written about his crimes right now.

No. Let him tell me what he wants to tell me. I need to hear it in his own words.

I turn away from the laptop. I’ll read the information I need for our first session, but I don’t want headlines deciding what I think of him before he’s had the chance to speak.

Everyone deserves that chance. Even if Jeffries doesn’t seem to agree.

Tomorrow, I’ll need to bring my A-game.

I wake before my alarm goes off.

I must be anxious.

I choose something elegant but modest for my first day at Salt Bay and give myself a once-over in the mirror.

Come on. I’ve done this a thousand times. Why am I so apprehensive?

Probably because my thesis rides on this. Oh, and my job.

No pressure.

Simon is at check-in when I arrive.

“You’re early! How are we this morning, Rei?”

“A little nervous, actually.”

“Understandable.” He gives me a sympathetic nod. “Have a coffee to settle your nerves.”

Then he produces a box of doughnuts and some serviettes.

“Here. Some sugar courage.”

“You’re a godsend.” I stare at the assortment before choosing a strawberry-glazed one.

“I have a sweet tooth.” He confesses. “My dentist hates me. Or loves me.”

I laugh. “Thank you.”

He signs me in and escorts me to my office.

“Expect Moreno in twenty minutes. That’ll give you time for your coffee and doughnut.” He points to a chair in the corridor. “And remember, I’ll be right outside.”

“Thanks, Simon.”

Once he leaves, I set the doughnut on my desk and make myself a cappuccino. I sit down and take a sip.

Ah, that’s better.

I put Matheus’s file beside my laptop and notepad. Then I glance at the metal brackets on the other side of the desk.

I still don’t like them.

A knock sounds at the door.

“Come in.”

Simon enters with Matheus in front of him. Matheus eyes me, though his face gives nothing away.

“Step inside,” Simon tells him. “Sit down. Palms on the table.”

Matheus obeys without a word. His wrists and ankles are shackled, just as they were yesterday. Simon secures the chain between his cuffs to the brackets on the desk, then gives it a firm tug.

“I’m right outside if you need me,” he reminds me.

“Thank you.”

The door closes, leaving us alone.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. He leans back in his chair and watches me.

“Couldn’t stay away, Doc?”

I hadn’t expected him to speak first. I ignore the jibe and offer him a polite smile.

“Hello, Matheus. I hope I can call you Matheus.”

He says nothing.

“My name is Rei. We met briefly yesterday. I’m sorry about the restraints, but unfortunately, that isn’t up to me. I’m not sure how much they’ve explained about why I’m here.”

Still no response. I’ve worked with reluctant patients before, but I’d hoped for a little more than this.

“I’m here to try to ease some of the burden you might be feeling about your sentence.”

He snorts.

At least that’s something.

“Whatever you decide to tell me in our sessions will be treated confidentially. I’ll ask you some questions, but you don’t have to answer anything you’re not ready to discuss. And if you want to ask me something, you can.”

Matheus leans forward.

Finally. He wants to engage.

I lean forward slightly too.

His hand shoots across the desk and closes around my throat.

The movement is so sudden I freeze. There’s just enough slack in the chain for him to reach me, and the panic button is beneath my side of the desk, out of reach while he has me pulled forward.

His grip is firm. It isn’t cutting off my air.

Yet.

“Are you scared of me?” he asks in a low voice. “Because you should be.”

“Or do you get off being around murderers?”

He squeezes ever so gently, until my pulse pounds in my ears. I need to be careful.

I force myself to breathe steadily and keep my voice level.

“Are you sure you’re not getting off on this, Matheus?”

For a moment, he looks surprised. We’re close enough for me to see his pupils widen.

Or is it excitement…or something else?

“You do know I could snap your neck if I wanted to?”

The thrill of getting him to break, even though he wields the physical power here, has my adrenaline pumping.

“And is that what you want?”

He smirks. “You’re a curiosity.”

I lift my hand and cautiously touch the one around my throat.

“Then it would be a shame to kill me so soon, don’t you think?”

He draws a breath. Finally, his hand falls away.

I sit back and rub my neck. Matheus’s eyes follow the movement.

That has never happened in a session before.

I’m rattled, no matter how steady I managed to sound. I glance towards the door, knowing Simon is just outside it.

Then I look back at Matheus. He hasn’t retreated into his chair. His elbows rest on the desk, and he’s still watching me.

All right. Let’s see if we can get through the rest of this.

“Shall we move on?” My voice sounds deceptively steady.

He doesn’t answer.

“How about some questions? Can you tell me about your childhood? Where you grew up?”

He folds his arms across his chest, a bad sign. He’s closing up again.

“Okay. What if I tell you something about me?”

One eyebrow rises.

“I’m an only child. My father is from here, and my mother was Japanese. She died when I was young. That’s part of why I became a therapist.”

Matheus remains quiet, but at least he’s listening.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I like helping people. I’d like to think I can empathise with almost anyone. It’s what makes me good at my job. And -”

“Jesus, do you always talk this much?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“Whether my client talks or not.”

A smile almost reaches his mouth. Then he seems to think better of it and scowls.

“So, do you feel like talking now?” I ask.

“I just did. And only to shut you up.”

I can’t help laughing.

A moment later, my alarm goes off.

“Congratulations,” I tell him. “You’ve just finished your very first therapy session.”

The office door opens, and Simon steps inside.

“All good?” he asks.

Matheus stiffens slightly, waiting for my response.

I could say something. But then I lose his trust. And it’s already thin.

“Yes, thank you.”

Simon unhooks Matheus’s cuffs from the bracket. “Back to your morning duties, Moreno.”

Matheus gets to his feet. Simon leads him towards the door, then glances back at me.

“I’ll come back to sign you out.”

I nod. Once they’re gone, I look down at my notes.

I managed to get Matheus talking, even if it was only to tell me to be quiet. But I keep thinking about the way he reacted when I asked where he grew up.

There was anger in his face. Sadness, too. I know what that’s like.

What happened to him?

I hope he’ll tell me one day. For now, he needs to want to.

That evening, curiosity gets the better of me. I open my laptop and search for Matheus Moreno.

Just the facts. No speculative articles.

The first report says he was arrested at a nightclub after killing six people. I shiver, remembering his hand around my throat.

I read on.

Judge Reynolds sentenced him to life without parole. A death sentence followed shortly afterwards.

I go back over the dates. The trial seems to have moved quickly, and I can’t find any mention of an appeal.

How did the sentence change?

Another article says Matheus was under the influence of drugs and alcohol when he went on what it calls a “senseless rampage.”

According to the report, all six victims suffered multiple stab wounds to the chest.

That detail holds my attention. He would have had to get close to each of them.

That’s intimate. That’s emotional. It sounds…personal.

What happened in that nightclub?

What would make me want to kill someone like that?

I’d have to be…angry about something or desperately trying to defend myself.

My phone lights up with a message from Keri.

Keri: Hey! How was your first sesh?

Me: Interesting. Different. And I’m still not telling you who my patient is!

Keri: I’m offended. I was only asking how your day was.

Me: Sure you were.

I look back at the article, then type another message.

Me: You’ve worked with Judge Reynolds before, right? What’s he like?

Keri: Ruthless. No-nonsense. He’s getting on, though. He’s been doing it for years and gets a lot of the big cases.

Keri: Wait. Is that a clue? Was your patient tried by Reynolds?

Me: Okay, thanks for the info! Gotta go.

Keri: Aw, you’re no fun. See you tomorrow!

Me: Night!

I put my phone down and look at the article again. I have plenty of questions, but Matheus deserves the chance to tell me what happened in his own words.

I want to hear his side of the story.

If he ever decides to.

By the time Matheus is seated across from me for our second session, I’m beginning to wonder whether our tiny bit of progress has already worn off. He’s as silent as he was when he first arrived.

“It’s good to see you, Matheus. I’m looking forward to talking with you today.”

“I don’t know what the point of all this is.” He scowls. “But it gets me out of laundry duty. It’s stinking hot in there.”

That’s more than he said in nearly the entire first session.

“I’m glad I rate above laundry duty.” I smile. “As for the point of our talks, I suppose I should confess something.”

That gets his attention. He leans forward. He’s curious.

“I’m also here to gather research for my thesis on criminal profiling.”

“So you’re convinced I’m guilty?”

He sounds more resigned than angry.

Is he going to tell me he’s innocent?

Before I can answer, he continues.

“I’m as guilty as they get. I did it. I’m a cold-blooded killer.”

He says it calmly. No sarcasm, no attempt to provoke me. I study him, trying to work out what he wants me to say.

Then he leans a little closer.

“Tell me something, Doc. Do you like the heat?”

A shiver runs down my spine.

“You know if you get too close to the flame, you get burnt.”

He holds my gaze.

“Do you want to get burnt?”