to tell him to cooperate with me. Will you do that?'
'I'll talk to Jon. He'll see you.'
Chapter Twenty.
Jon Dupre had been confined to a narrow single cell since killing Wendell Hayes. It had a metal cot that was bolted to the wall, a toilet, a metal sink, and nothing else. It didn't matter that his cell locked shut at night: Dupre was afraid to go to sleep, because he was certain that was when they'd come for him. One way or another, he was a dead man.
Tonight he struggled to stay awake until exhaustion overcame his will. But even while he slept, part of his animal brain searched for danger, listened for the telltale squeak of an approaching footstep. So, when he heard a click at his cell door, he sprang up, fists clenched, ready for combat.
A solidly built black man stepped into his cell, and the door slammed shut behind him. Dupre looked terrified. He was taking short, shallow breaths.
'Relax, Jon,' the man said. J. D. Hunter recognized flight-or-fight behavior when he saw it, and there was no place for Dupre to run. The agent held his hands up, palms out, knowing that if he had to, he could curl them into fists faster than Dupre could cross the cell.
'Easy. I'm here to help you.' Hunter kept his voice calm and low. 'I'm the agent who was working with Lori Andrews, and, believe it or not, you weren't the prize we were after. Help me and I can help you, and you need all the help you can get.'
Dupre had not relaxed one bit. His upper body was swaying, his eyes were riveted on Hunter.
'Who sent you?' Dupre asked. His voice was hoarse and choked by fear.
'I'm with the FBI.'
'Bullshit!'
Hunter slowly reached into his jacket pocket to take out his identification.
'I want you out of here,' Dupre said.
'This could be your only chance, Jon.'
'Don't come a step closer,' Dupre warned.
'Okay, Jon, if that's the way you want it, I'll leave.'
Hunter rapped on the door and it swung open. Before he left, the agent flipped his card onto the bunk.
'Do yourself a favor and call me.'
'Get out!'
The cell door slammed shut and the light went out. Dupre dropped to the cot and put his head in his hands. He was shaking. After a while, he calmed down and lay on his back. His hand dropped to his side and his fingers brushed Hunter's card. It had the seal of the FBI and j.d. hunter embossed on it. Dupre's first instinct was to rip it to shreds, but what if Hunter really was with the FBI and could help him? He pulled the card in front of his eyes so he could study it in the dark. The card looked real, but that didn't mean a thing. He started to crumple it up but stopped and slipped it in the pocket of his jumpsuit. He was too stressed out to think. In the morning, if he could sleep and clear his mind a bit, he would try to come up with a plan.
Chapter Twenty-One.
Amanda's hands were clammy and she felt a little dizzy as she waited for the guard to let her into the contact room where Jon Dupre had murdered Wendell Hayes. Judge Robard would only agree to sign the court order compelling the jail to permit a contact visit if she agreed to go along with the safety measures that Matt Guthrie proposed, so she knew that guards would be posted outside both doors to the contact room and that Dupre would be in chains. Still, she could not calm down. The jail commander had also wanted Kate Ross present for the interview, but Amanda had drawn the line there. She knew that she had to meet one-on-one with Dupre if she was going to repair the damage caused by the noncontact visit.
Amanda fought the urge to run when the guard locked her in. 'I can do this,' she told herself. 'I can do this.'
There were no visible signs of the killing, but Amanda had seen the crime-scene photographs and she kept her back to the spot where Hayes had died. To distract herself, Amanda took out her pad and her file. She was arranging them on a small, circular table, when the lock on the back door snapped open and the guard motioned Jon Dupre into the room. He stared at her for a moment before shuffling to the table and sitting down.
'We'll be right outside,' Dupre's escort told her, gesturing toward the guard who was watching through the window in the corridor. Amanda studied her client. He looked just as angry and defiant as he had during their first meeting, but she thought she sensed something else--desperation.
'Good afternoon, Jon,' Amanda said when the guard had locked them in.
Dupre slouched in his chair and didn't answer her. Amanda decided to go over some basics, to try and get Dupre involved and because it would help her calm down.
'Before we discuss your case I want to make sure you understand the attorney-client relationship.'
'Oscar Baron told me all this shit.'
'You may find that Oscar and I practice law a little differently, so humor me, okay?'
Dupre shrugged.
