Free Sense of Deception by Victoria Laurie Page B

function. The chairs in front of him were simple, made not so much for long visits but for short bursts of billable hours. After I sat down, I knew that most of his clients would start to feel uncomfortable about a half hour in, and be antsy to leave within an hour. I figured that was one way to keep everyone on schedule.
    On Cal’s desk were a large monitor and an equally impressive mountain of paperwork and manila folders. Behind him were shelves stuffed with law books that looked a bit too pristine to be real—I mean, who even uses law books anymore when everything is online these days? To the left of the room was a large steel filing cabinet, and one picture hung on the wall of a seagull soaring above the waves of a turbulent ocean. A poetically inspiring caption was written underneath.
    And that was pretty much it for decor. “So!” Cal said as he sat down after getting up to greet me. “This is a surprise. What brings you by?”
    I flashed him my best winning smile. “I need your help.”
    â€œWith?”
    â€œWell, actually, it’s not me who needs your help. See, there’s a woman on death row who—”
    Cal held up his hand to interrupt me. “Hold it,” he said. “Hold it. Are you here about Skylar Miller?”
    I blinked. “Uh, yeah. How’d you know?”
    Cal pointed to himself. “Dutch called me yesterday to represent you if Schilling didn’t let you out of the contempt charge. He then called me a little later and asked if I could pull any strings because they’d locked you up with a death row inmate.”
    I felt a thread of anger set into my shoulders, remembering the abrupt removal of Skylar from our shared jail. “And did you?”
    Cal said, “I made a call to Schilling’s clerk. He used to work for me before he took the job with Schilling, and he was willing to extend you a slight favor last night.” Cal paused to give me a meaningful look that told me that outing the judge had been a bit of a blessing to the clerk, who was in love with him. I wondered if he truly believed, now that things were out in the open, so to speak, that Schilling would leave his wife for the poor clerk, and I hoped he didn’t get his heart broken and lose his job at the sametime, because that’s what was probably going to happen, and I felt for him.
    â€œAnyway,” Cal continued, “he made a few calls and they found a way to keep you isolated from the other prisoners.”
    I took a moment to breathe deeply. My hubby and Cal had simply made an effort to keep me as safe as possible, but it still irked me that Skylar had been sent away to spend the night at county in isolation when I was fairly certain at Mountain View they kept her in isolation too. She’d had a chance for a bit of respite from that lonely and possibly maddening experience, and the men in my life had taken it away from her unnecessarily. “She wasn’t a threat to me,” I told him levelly.
    Cal sighed. “You talked to her.” He said it more as a statement than as a question.
    I squinted at him. There was something about the way he was speaking that suggested that he had at least some familiarity with Skylar and her case. “I did,” I said. “Have you ever talked to her, Cal?”
    He sighed. There was guilt in that sigh. “Twenty years ago I represented her on a vandalism charge and then on her third DWI charge.”
    My eyes widened. “The one where she served a year in jail?”
    He nodded. “She was actually sentenced to four years, but got out after only fourteen months for good behavior and because of overcrowding.”
    â€œStill, four years seems kind of harsh for a woman who so obviously needed to be sent to rehab, doesn’t it? I mean, I realize it was her third offense, but she didn’t crash her car or hurt anybody, did she?”
    â€œNo, but back in ’ninety-eight the state