The drive to the Kingston correctional facility only took one hour and fourteen minutes. Kerri documented every last geographical ping on her phone, hoping that the twisting lines of green, yellow, and sometimes red (to indicate a traffic accident that set her back six minutes) could become the multicoloured version of the thread Ariadne had given to Theseus in Greek myth: It would lead her out of the labyrinth if she became lost and forgot why she was there.
The last time that Kerri had seen Amos Reznik was one month after his sentencing. She came to see him in hopes of putting his mythic image out of her mind. Even as a child, her father seemed far more part of her storybooks than real life. A Paul Bunyan in military fatigues, a giant standing six foot five inches, and of course, a Mino
