"As you wish. What else would you like to pray for?"
"My family, such as it is. This will be hard on my grandson, and my brother, and maybe my daughter. There won't be a lot of tears shed for me, you understand, but I would like for them to be comforted. And I'd like to say a prayer for my friends here on the Row. They'll take it hard."
"Anyone else?"
"Yeah. I want to say a good prayer for the Kramers, especially Ruth."
"The family of the victims?"
"That's right. And also the Lincolns."
"Who are the Lincolns?"
"It's a long story. More victims."
"This is good, Sam. You need to get this off your chest, to cleanse your soul."
"It'll take years to cleanse my soul, Reverend."
"More victims?"
Sam sat the cup on the desk and gently rubbed his hands together. He searched the warm and trusting eyes of Ralph Griffin. "What if there are other victims?" he asked.
"Dead people?"
Sam nodded, very slowly.
"People you've killed?"
Sam kept nodding.
Griffin took a deep breath, and contemplated matters for a moment. "Well, Sam, to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't want to die without confessing these sins and asking God for forgiveness."
Sam kept nodding.
"How many?" Griffin asked.
Sam slid off the desk and eased into his shower shoes. He slowly lit a cigarette, and began pacing back and forth behind Griffin's chair. The reverend changed positions so he could watch and hear Sam.
"There was Joe Lincoln, but I've already written a letter to his family and told them I was sorry."
"You killed him?"
"Yes. He was an African. Lived on our place. I always felt bad about it. It was around 1950."
Sam stopped and leaned on a file cabinet. He spoke to the floor, as if in a daze. "And there were two men, white men, who killed my father at a funeral, many years ago. They served some time in jail, and when they got out, me and my brothers waited patiently. We killed both of them, but I never felt that bad about it, to be honest. They were scum, and they'd killed our father."
"Killing is always wrong, Sam. You're fighting your own legal killing right now."
"I know."
"Did you and your brothers get caught?"
"No. The old sheriff suspected us, but he couldn't prove anything. We were too careful. Besides, they were real lowlifes, and nobody cared."
"That doesn't make it right."
"I know. I always figured they deserved what they got, then I was sent to this place. Life has new meaning when you're on death row. You realize how valuable it is. Now I'm sorry I killed those boys. Real sorry."
"Anybody else?"
Sam walked the length of the room, counting each step, and returned to the file cabinet. The minister waited. Time meant nothing right now.
"There were a couple of lynchings, years ago," Sam said, unable to look Griffin in the eyes.
"Two?"
"I think. Maybe three. No, yes, there were three, but at the first one I was just a kid, a small boy, and all I did was watch, you know, from the bushes. It was Klan lynching, and my father was involved in it, and me and my brother Albert sneaked into the woods and watched it.
So that doesn't count, does it?"
"No."
Sam's shoulders sank against the wall. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. "The second one was a regular mob. I was about fifteen, I guess, and I was right in the middle of it. A girl got raped by an African, at least she said it was a rape. Her reputation left a lot to be desired, and two years later she had a baby that was half-African. So who knows? Anyway, she pointed the finger, we got the boy, took him out, and lynched him. I was as guilty as the rest of the mob."
"God will forgive you, Sam."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm positive."
"How many murders will he forgive?"
"All of them. If you sincerely ask forgiveness, then he'll wipe the slate clean. It's in the Scriptures."
"That's too good to be true."
"What about the other lynching?"
Sam began shaking his head, back and fort' eyes closed. "Now, I can't talk about that one, preacher," he said, exhaling heavily.
"You don't have to talk to me about it, Sam. Just talk to God."
"I don't know if I can talk to anybody about it."
"Sure you can. Just close your eyes one night, between now and Tuesday, while you're in your cell, and confess all these deeds to God. He'll instantly forgive you."