'I'll get right on it.'
Maria walked away and Kerrigan entered his office. He dumped his files onto his desk and hung his jacket on a hook, closing the door behind him. As he was loosening his tie, he found himself remembering the blonde he'd seen briefly in the courthouse. Something about her seemed familiar.
Kerrigan's intercom buzzed.
'There's a Miss Jasmine on line two,' his secretary said.
Kerrigan froze, and in that second he pictured the blonde again and knew for a fact that she was Ally Bennett.
Kerrigan lifted the receiver.
'Hello, Frank,' a husky and familiar voice said.
'I think you've got the wrong person,' he said carefully.
'Do I, Frank ? Should I go to the press and let them sort it out?'
'I don't think you'd get very far.'
'You don't think they'd be interested in a story about a DA who is prosecuting a pimp while having very raunchy sex with one of his whores?'
Tim closed his eyes and forced himself to stay calm. 'What do you want?'
'Let's meet where we did the last time and I'll tell you in person. Eight o'clock. Don't be late, Frank, or Jasmine will be very angry.'
Kerrigan felt himself begin to grow hard as an image from their last meeting was triggered by her words. An insane desire to have sex with Jasmine again welled up in Kerrigan, despite the knowledge that meeting with her could only lead to his destruction.
Then he thought about Cindy. Something was going on between them that he hadn't anticipated. They had grown closer since she'd comforted him after his return from Senator Travis's crime scene. When he made love to his wife, there was none of the energy he'd felt with Bennett, when lust and shame had combined to produce a cocktail of illicit pleasure, but he'd felt dirty when he left the motel and he'd felt at peace when he was in Cindy's arms.
For a moment, Kerrigan thought about defying Ally, but he didn't have the courage. There were so many things she could do to hurt him; she could go to the press, to Jack Stamm, or, worst of all, she could go to Cindy. Tim felt defeated. Ally Bennett had ordered him to return to the motel and he was too weak and afraid to disobey.
Part Four
THE VAUGHN STREET GLEE CLUB
Chapter Twenty-Eight.
Joyce Hamada wasn't hard to spot in the crowd of students that surged out of Smith Hall shortly after three. Kate Ross had found her picture in the case file Oscar Baron had given to Amanda, but the picture did not do her justice. Baggy jeans and a loose-fitting Portland State sweatshirt could not conceal her voluptuous figure. Jet-black hair hung to Hamada's waist and gleamed in the afternoon sun as if it had been polished. Her almond-shaped eyes were wide and alive, the highlight of a face that would have looked great on the cover of a fashion magazine.
Kate followed the nineteen-year-old sophomore across the street to the parking garage. She lagged behind when Hamada walked up a flight of stairs to the third floor, and closed the gap while she was tossing her books into the back of a beat-up Mazda.
'Miss Hamada?'
The woman spun in panic, her eyes wide. Kate held out her credentials.
'Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. My name is Kate Ross. I'm an investigator working for the lawyer who's defending Jon Dupre. Do you have a minute?'
'You've got the wrong person. I don't know this man.'
'I'm talking to you here, Miss Hamada, because I don't want to embarrass you in a more public setting.'
'I'm late. I have to go,' Hamada said as she opened the driver's door.
'You were arrested for prostitution three months ago but the charges were dropped. Jon Dupre posted your bail and paid Oscar Baron's legal fees. That's a strange thing for someone you don't know to do.'
Hamada swore and her shoulders slumped.
'I don't want to hurt you. I'm not interested in things you may have done. I just want to talk about some things that might be relevant to Jon's case.'
Hamada sighed. She got into the car and motioned Kate around to the passenger side.
'Ask your questions,' Hamada said when Kate shut the door.
'Why don't you start by telling me how you met Jon?'
Hamada laughed, but her eyes didn't. 'I was fresh off the bus from Medford, my first time in the big city, if you can believe that. About two weeks after school started, I went to one of the clubs with some girls from school. Jon made a move on me and I didn't know what hit me. He's this great-looking, older guy, he dresses well, and he's
