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met?”
    â€œThis woman named Skylar. Skylar Miller. She’s on death row, in county waiting for her appeal. We shared the same cell.”
    Candice’s brow furrowed. “How did you get to share a cell with a death row inmate? That’s not supposed to happen.”
    â€œCounty’s crowded.”
    The frown on Candice’s face remained. “Still, I can’t believe they allowed that.”
    â€œIt wasn’t a big deal,” I insisted.
    â€œSundance,” Candice said, reaching out to put a hand on my arm, like she just realized I’d escaped some sort of terrible danger. “Death row inmates have nothing to live for. They’re dangerous to the rest of the population for a reason, because there’s usually nothing you can threaten them with to keep them in line.”
    â€œSkylar’s not like that,” I told her. “She gave me half her Twix bar and a couple of peanut butter crackers when the CO refused to let me go to dinner.”
    â€œMost people on death row are also masters at manipulation.”
    I sighed. “Candice, will you please listen to the rest of the story before deciding that I just lost one of my nine lives?”
    Candice lifted her hand from my arm. “Okay, tell me the rest.”
    I took another bite of the burrito, moaned—it was so good—but chewed quickly before saying, “From what I could ascertain mostly through my radar, Skylar was convicted of murdering her son. He was nine. Stabbed to death back in two thousand four or the first half of two thousand five.”
    Candice winced. “Ouch.”
    â€œI don’t think she did it.” The minute that came out of my mouth, I felt a lightness in the center of my solar plexus. That was my intuition telling me I was speaking a truth.
    Candice set down her taco and looked hard at me across the table. “You think she’s innocent?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIs that your gut talking or the Twix bar?”
    I frowned at her and tapped my temple. “My radar says she’s innocent.”
    â€œHow innocent?”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘how innocent’? Isn’t innocent
innocent
?”
    â€œWell,” she said, “if I’m hearing you right, I think what you’re saying is that she didn’t wield the knife in her son’s murder.”
    â€œYes. That’s what I think.”
    â€œBut what if she was indirectly responsible?”
    â€œI’m still not following.”
    Candice shifted in her chair. “What if she had a motive to kill him and contributed in the form of conspiracy to commit murder?”
    My jaw dropped. “Candice,” I said. “What
reason
could a mother ever have to directly or indirectly kill her own child?”
    Candice shrugged. “Off the top of my head I can think of a couple of reasons—”
    â€œSuch as?” I demanded.
    Candice ticked them off on her fingers. “Munchausen by proxy, to collect an insurance settlement, or because she was an impatientwoman who decided she was sick of caring for a young child and wanted her life back. Or even that with him to feed and clothe, it left her less money to buy alcohol and/or drugs. I mean, what do you know about this woman’s background?”
    I frowned. I’d picked up on the addiction issues in Skylar’s past right off the bat. “Okay, so you might have a point,” I conceded. “But here’s the thing: I don’t think she was indirectly involved either. I think she’s been falsely accused, and she’s on her last appeal and the state is prepared to give her the needle at the first opportunity.”
    Candice folded her napkin and dropped it on her empty plate before leaning back in her chair to let out a sigh. “You’re gonna ask me to help you look into the case, aren’t you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œA case that won’t pay our rent or even the electric