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Stoopid Stephanie Snitch’s testimony, and then my go-around with the judge, my total for the day had definitely risen into the double digits, so what was a few extra quarters?
    I looked over the cell for something to do or read, but it was fairly sparse as jail cells go. My gaze eventually landed on Skylar’s side of the space and I saw that she had just a few items on the small shelf behind her bunk. I glanced toward the door, but then realized that I’d have plenty of advance warning if I wanted to do a little snooping. I’d hear the inmates coming back from the cafeteria and the door would of course give that loud buzzing sound before it opened.
    Moving over to the small shelf, I bent double, hoping to find a book or something to read while she was away. Luck was with me when I spied a well-worn paperback with the image of a man anda woman embracing in a passionate kiss. I smiled. I’m a sucker for a good romance novel.
    Picking up the book, I snuck back across the cell and settled into my bunk for a little reading time. As I opened it, however, something slipped out onto my lap.
    At first I thought it was Skylar’s bookmark, but then I saw that it was actually a photograph of Skylar in younger, happier days with her arms wrapped tightly around a boy, who resembled her, grinning from ear to ear. He’d lost several of his teeth, but in front of him was a birthday cake with the words
Happy Birthday, Noah!
There were nine candles on the cake.
    My chest constricted a bit as I took in his image, which was flat and plastic looking—a clear sign to my intuitive mind that Noah was deceased.
    My gaze drifted to Skylar and her radiant smile. She was beaming at the camera; holding her son close, she looked like someone who had everything in the world she needed to be happy.
    I then scanned the background looking for the other party guests, but the shutter had been trained only on Skylar and her son. I flipped the photo over and read, “May 29, 2004.”
    I didn’t know when Noah had died, but I did note that he would be nearly twenty years old now if he’d lived. Flipping the photo back over, I gazed for a time at Noah’s sweet face, with his bright blue eyes, lean features, and broad smile, which mirrored his mother’s. I wondered how long after this photo had been taken that the vibrant young boy’s life had been snuffed out. It pained me to think that someone so young, with such promise, could have met such an abrupt and untimely end.
    â€œYou poor little guy,” I murmured, caressing his image with my fingers. I wondered if his mother had done the same thing in the years she’d held on to the photo.
    At that moment there was a loud buzz and my cell door began to roll open. Accompanying this was the sort of sound that large crowds make—a sort of milling of voices that blend together to make nothing that’s said discernible except for the occasional higher pitch of laughter.
    I scooted out of my bunk and rushed the paperback and the photo back to Skylar’s side, setting it back exactly as I’d found it before darting for my bunk again. When Skylar walked into the cell, I was lying back, idly staring up at the ceiling.
    â€œHow was dinner?” I asked, my stomach giving a little gurgle.
    She wore a small smirk and she came over to my side, unzipping her orange jumpsuit to pull something out of the T-shirt underneath. “Here,” she said, handing me two packages of peanut butter crackers. “I figured they wouldn’t escort you down for dinner. They’re mean here at county. They never cut the newbies a break.”
    I took the crackers greedily before remembering my manners. “Thanks,” I said. “I really appreciate it. I’m starving.”
    Skylar shuffled over to her bunk and lay back on her cot. It was quite obvious that her mood had shifted. She’d been somewhat open to me before I’d been taken away to