Ties That Bind

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.