Ties That Bind

Chapter Sixteen.

Nightmares wrecked Amanda's sleep and she was drenched in sweat when she awoke in the dark, exhausted and slightly nauseous, an hour before her alarm was set to go off. Amanda usually started the day with calisthenics, occasionally followed by a decadent pancake breakfast at a cafe that had been a neighborhood fixture since the fifties. This morning, she settled for an ice-cold shower, a toasted bagel, and tea.

Amanda's loft in the Pearl, a former warehouse district, was a brisk fifteen-minute walk from her office. She left her car in the garage in hopes that the cool weather and mild exercise would calm her anxiety. She would be sitting opposite a violent killer later this morning but, she reminded herself, it would not be the same person who had inspired the horrors that had invaded last night's sleep. That person was dead. Jon Dupre would be manacled, and Kate Ross would be with her in the interview room. Logically, there was no reason to worry, but she still felt light-headed when she arrived at the law offices of Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi. The fear stayed with her while she worked--a tiny insect she could feel skittering across the pit of her stomach no matter how hard she tried to distract herself.

Kate Ross had picked up the discovery in the Travis and Hayes cases from the district attorney's office, and it was waiting on Amanda's desk when she arrived. Amanda read the police reports first and avoided looking at the crime scene and autopsy photographs until she could no longer put off the task.

Amanda spread the photos of Harold Travis's and Wendell Hayes's bodies on her desk, praying that they would not trigger a flashback. She told herself that viewing the pictures was part of her job--an unpleasant part, but an important part. Amanda took slow breaths as she studied the crime-scene photos. She had read the autopsy reports and went through the autopsy photos quickly. When she was done, she shoved the photos into the case file and noticed that her hands were trembling. She closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair, and tried to relax. The worst was over--she'd seen the pictures and had not had a flashback--but still Amanda wondered if she had made a mistake when she agreed to accept the Dupre case.

Amanda and Kate arrived at the Justice Center at ten-thirty. They showed their IDs to the guard at the jail reception desk, and Amanda asked for a contact visit with Jon Dupre. The guard made a phone call. As soon as he hung up, he told Amanda that Jail Commander Matthew Guthrie wanted to speak to her. A few minutes later, Guthrie lumbered into the reception area. He was in his early fifties, a bright-eyed Irishman with salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, and the beginning of a beer gut.

"Morning, Amanda."

"Good morning, Matt. Is this a social call?"

"Afraid not. I'm not allowing contact visits with Dupre. I wanted to tell you in person because I know you're gonna scream and holler."

"You got that right. I don't want to talk to my client through a sheet of bulletproof glass like he's some sort of animal."

"Well there's your problem," Guthrie answered calmly. "Dupre is an animal. The last time we let him have a contact visit with one of your brethren he stabbed him in the eye and cut his throat. I'm not giving him the opportunity to do it again. And before you say it, it's not because you're of the female persuasion. I didn't know who was gonna get stuck with this dreamboat when I made the prohibition."

"Look, Matt, I appreciate your concern for my safety, but I need to meet face-to-face with Dupre if I'm going to establish trust between us. The first meeting is very important. If he thinks I'm afraid of him he won't open up to me."

"I'm not changing my mind on this. One dead attorney on my watch is enough."

"You can manacle him. And Kate's with me. She's an ex-cop and she's very good at self-defense."

Guthrie shook his head. "Sorry, Amanda, but I'm sticking to my guns. It's a noncontact visit or nothing."

"I can get a court order."

"You'll have to."

Amanda saw that it was useless to argue and she knew that Guthrie meant well.

"I'll take what I can get, for now, but I'm going right to Judge Robard as soon as I'm through."

Guthrie nodded. "I expected you would. No hard feelings I hope?"

"This just reinforces my opinion that you're a narrow-minded redneck," Amanda said with a smile.

"And proud of it," Guthrie laughed. Then he sobered. "You watch yourself with this son of a bitch. Don't let him con you and don't you let your guard down for an instant. Jon Dupre is very, very dangerous."

"Don't worry, Matt. He's one client I am definitely not going to underestimate."

"Okay, then." He stuck out a massive paw, which Amanda shook. "Say hi to your dad for me."

Guthrie left and Amanda showed the contents of her briefcase to the guard, then went through the metal detector. As she waited for Kate to follow, Amanda had to admit that she was relieved that there would be a concrete wall and bulletproof glass between her and Jon Dupre.

The noncontact visiting room was so narrow that Kate Ross had to stand behind Amanda with her back pressed against the door. Amanda sat in a gray metal bridge chair and rested her notepad and file on a ledge that projected out from a wall that was directly in front of her. The bottom of the wall was concrete and the top was bulletproof glass. It was impossible to hear through the glass, so attorney and client communicated through phones attached to the wall on both sides.

A door opened on the other side of the glass, and a guard pushed Jon Dupre into an identical space. Amanda's first impression of her new client was that he was handsome and hyperalert. Dupre's ankles were shackled, which forced him to shuffle forward unsteadily. The prisoner riveted his eyes to Amanda's, and they stayed on her. It was unnerving, but Amanda sensed fear as well as aggression. When he drew closer, she saw that Dupre's eyes were red and swollen, and there were bruises on his face.

The guard pressed Dupre down onto his chair and left. The jumpsuit her client was wearing was short-sleeved. He placed his manacled hands on the metal ledge, revealing a row of stitches on his right forearm and cuts on the sides of his fingers on both hands.

Amanda forced a smile as she picked up the receiver of her phone and gestured for Dupre to do the same.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked.

"I'm Amanda Jaffe and I've been asked by the court to be your attorney."

"Jesus, they sent me a cunt for a lawyer. Why don't they just give me my lethal injection now."

Amanda stopped smiling. "You've been appointed a cunt for a lawyer, Mr. Dupre, because all the swinging dicks were too scared to take your case."

"And you're not?" Dupre said, tapping the receiver against the bulletproof glass.

"The jail commander wouldn't let us meet face-to-face. As soon as I'm through here, I'm going across the street to the courthouse to get an order forcing him to let us meet in a contact room."

Dupre pointed the receiver at Kate. "Is she your bodyguard?"

"No, Mr. Dupre. She's your investigator. Now, are you going to keep testing me or can we get down to work? I've got a number of questions I'd like to ask you. You're in a lot of trouble. You murdered a prominent attorney and you're looking at a very real possibility of a death sentence."

Dupre sprang to his feet, leaning against the ledge to maintain his balance. Even though there was a wall between them, Amanda pushed her chair back, stunned by Dupre's sudden rage.

"I didn't murder anyone and I don't need a DA's flunky for an attorney. Get the fuck out."

"Mr. Dupre," Amanda shouted into the phone. Dupre smashed the receiver against the glass, struggled to the rear wall, and slammed his manacled hands against the steel door. The door opened and the guard stepped back to let Dupre into the hall that led to his cell. Amanda sagged onto her chair.

"What an asshole," Kate said.

Amanda gathered her papers, her eyes still on the door through which her client had disappeared.

"What are you going to do now?" Kate asked as she opened the door into the hall.

"I'm going to give Dupre time to cool off while I get a court order from Robard. Then I'll set up a contact meeting and hope it goes a little better."

"Good luck."

"Meanwhile, you and I will draw up a game plan for the trial and the penalty phase."

Kate pressed the button for the elevator.

"We should spend most of our time on figuring out how to keep the jury from sentencing Dupre to death. I've read the police reports. I don't think that the guilt phase is going to take too long."

"That's negative thinking," Amanda answered with a tired smile. "We don't do that at Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi."

"Hey, I'm positive. I've even got a few theories of defense. Martians may have beamed powerful thought rays through the concrete walls, which forced Dupre to chop up Mr. Hayes, and the Sci Fi channel had this movie about demonic possession. I'll write for their research file."

The elevator took them down to the reception area of the jail. When the doors opened they could see a group of reporters milling around.

"Oh, shit," Amanda said. "Someone tipped them off."

The reporters shouted questions at Amanda as she walked through reception. She stopped in the lobby. The lights from one of the TV cameras blinded her for a moment, and she squinted.

"Are you representing Jon Dupre?" one reporter asked.

"Did you meet with him face-to-face?"

Amanda held up her hand and the questions stopped.

"Judge Robard asked me to represent Mr. Dupre and I've just come from a meeting with him . . . ."

"Were you frightened?" someone shouted.

"Did Dupre admit that he murdered Senator Travis?"

Amanda waited patiently until the reporters quieted down.

"Those of you who know me know that I believe that the proper place to resolve a matter of this seriousness is in a courtroom and not in the press. So, I won't be discussing the case with you and I certainly will not reveal any attorney-client communications."

Several reporters continued to ask questions. Amanda waited patiently for the shouting to subside.

"I'm not going to comment on this case in the press," Amanda repeated. "I'm sorry, but that's my position. Let's go, Kate."

Amanda and her investigator walked away from the reporters and through the main doors of the Justice Center just as Tim Kerrigan jogged up the stairs from the street. The prosecutor stared for a second as if trying to place her, then smiled when he did.

"Hey, Amanda, it's been a while."

"Two years, the Harrison case."

"In which you were a graceful winner, if I remember correctly."

"You know my investigator, Kate Ross? She used to be PPB."

"Sure. You were involved in the Daniel Ames case."

"That was me," Kate answered.

The reporters and cameramen had been walking away when they spotted Kerrigan talking to Amanda. They surged toward them like a pack of ravenous wolves.

"What's with the reporters?"

Amanda looked over her shoulder and grimaced. "I'm handling Jon Dupre's case."

"Then we've got something in common. I'm prosecuting. Maybe I'll get to even our record."

"We'll see," Amanda answered without much confidence.

"Mr. Kerrigan," someone shouted.

"I'll leave you to your public," Amanda said.

"Gee, thanks," Kerrigan answered.

As the reporters closed in on her adversary, Amanda and Kate raced down the stairs and started to put some distance between themselves and the press.

"He's the jock, right?" Kate asked.

"Not just any jock. He won a Heisman about ten years ago."

Kate whistled. "How is he in court?" she asked.

"Good. He's smart and he works very hard." Then she sighed. "But the way this case is shaping up, he won't have to break a sweat."