"So why does she think it?"
He shrugged. "I didn't win."
"But you gave it your best shot."
I expected another brow arch, to say of course he had, but he just stood there, cold eyes betraying nothing.
So what should I do? I wanted to ask. The impulse shamed me. Yet I suddenly felt very young and very lost and very confused. And Gabriel Walsh happened to be the only person here.
"Yes?" he said.
I shook my head. "I should get back in there."
"If you like."
He didn't move, as if to say the choice was mine. We could still leave, despite my promise to
return. I could run. Hide. Refuse to hear anything else she had to say.
I took a deep breath and said, "I'm ready."
"I'd like you to do me a favor, Olivia," Pamela said after I sat down again.
I tensed.
"I have a list of names. People who might be interested in fighting for a new appeal for your father and me."
"Lawyers."
She shot a pointed look at Gabriel. "We're done with lawyers. We need help from someone less opportunistic. It's a list of journalists and organizations who might be willing to take up our cause."
"Nonprofit organizations?" I said carefully. "Like the Innocence Project?"
"Not them specifically. They only deal with wrongful convictions based on DNA. But nonprofit, yes. Specifically, the Center on Wrongful Convictions out of Northwestern, but I've listed some national organizations as well. I'd never ask you to spend a penny on us, Olivia. You've already lost too much by being our daughter. I'm not even asking you to plead our case with these people. Just to pass along the information."
"Is there something specific you need them to look at? That's how it works, isn't it? There needs to be a specific problem with the conviction."
Another glance at Gabriel. "It seems my daughter knows more about law than some who've passed the bar." She turned back to me. "Yes, I have something specific for them. The murder of Peter Evans and Jan Gunderson."
Niles Gunderson's daughter. An image of the old man flashed in my memory, his eyes wild with crazed grief.
She continued, "There's a reason we couldn't have done it, which was overruled because of the other evidence that tied the cases together. It goes both ways, though. Prove us innocent of this crime and the other evidence will be called into question. A house of cards. Pull out one and the rest topples." She leaned forward. "Can you do that for me, Olivia? Just pass on the case to these people? I've tried, but it's so difficult contacting anyone from in here."
I had to hold every muscle tight to keep from glancing at Gabriel for his opinion. I didn't want to do anything for her. I shouldn't. And yet, if these people could prove her innocent ... If she could be innocent. Yet I shouldn't think that. Shouldn't dare to hope that.
For at least two minutes, I couldn't answer, mired in doubt and fear. But then I realized it wasn't about hoping she was innocent. It was about doing whatever it took to be sure that the jury had made the right decision, beyond doubt--reasonable or otherwise.
"Yes," I said.
I wrote down the names of the organizations she wanted me to contact. Then our visiting time ended.
Before Pamela was taken back to her cell, she told Gabriel she'd transfer five thousand to his account, in partial payment of her bill. Each time he brought me to visit--of my own free will--she'd add another five thousand.
I could tell he didn't like that. It was money owed to him, not payment for playing escort. But he agreed.
"Now I'd like a moment alone with my daughter," she said.
The guard cleared her throat.