lawyer?”
“I already showed my credentials to Ms. Dukes.”
“And you authorized us to see the guy,” added Michelle.
“So I did.”
“Then can we see him?” asked Sean. “In a professional manner?”
Murdock smiled and then nodded at the guards. “Right outside the door, gentlemen. You hear anything out of the ordinary, you know what to do.”
“The guy’s manacled to the floor and there’s a wall of four-inch polycarbonate glass between us,” said Michelle. “I’m not sure there’s much he
can
do.”
“I wasn’t necessarily referring to the prisoner,” replied Murdock.
The door shut behind them, and Sean and Michelle were finally alone with their client.
Sean leaned forward. “Mr. Roy? I’m Sean King. This is my partner Michelle Maxwell. We’re working with Ted Bergin. I know you’ve met with him previously.”
Roy said nothing. Didn’t blink, twitch, or seem to breathe.
Sean sat back, opened his briefcase, and looked at some papers. All pens, paper clips, and other sharp and potentially deadly instruments had been confiscated, although Sean supposed he could have inflicted a nasty paper cut on someone. “Ted Bergin told us that he was preparing a defense for you. Did he talk to you about what exactly that was?”
When Roy made no reaction, Michelle said, “I think we’re wasting our time. In fact, I think I can hear Murdock laughing his ass off behind that steel door.”
“Mr. Roy, we really need to discuss some things.”
“They put him here because he’s not fit for trial, Sean. I don’t know what he was like when he got here, but I can’t believe he’s gotten any better. By the looks of things this guy might be stuck at Cutter’s Rock for the rest of his life.”
Sean put the papers away. “Mr. Roy? Did you know that Ted Bergin has been murdered?” He said it in a blunt, loud tone, obviously hoping to get some type of reaction from Roy.
It didn’t work.
Sean looked around the small space. He leaned close to Michelle and whispered, “What are the odds this room has hidden recorders?”
“Taping an attorney’s conversation with his client? Can’t they get in big trouble for that?” she whispered back.
“Only if someone finds out and can prove it.” He sat back up, took out his cell phone. “No bars. But I had reception right before we got here.”
“Jamming?”
“That’s supposed to be illegal, too. I wondered why they let me keep it. At most prisons they confiscate it from visitors.”
“Because cell phones in prison are going for more money than cocaine. Heard of a guard somewhere out west making six figures a year selling Nokias and service plans at a state pen. Now he’s dialing from inside the place, too.”
“Look at his ankle, Michelle.”
The ankle bracelet was the color of titanium. A glowing red light sat in the center of it.
Michelle said, “They use them in some of the supermaxes and on the likes of Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan. Throws out a wireless signal, pinpoints the person’s precise location. Go outside the zone and an alarm is triggered.”
Sean dropped his voice. “How many places can the guy go in here that he needs an electronic ankle bracelet?”
“Good point. Want to ask Murdock? Or maybe Carla Dukes?”
Sean glanced sharply up at Edgar Roy. Had there been some slight—
No. The eyes were still lifeless dots.
“You think he’s been drugged?” asked Michelle. “His pupils look dilated.”
“I don’t know what to think. Without a medical exam.”
“He’s really tall. But skinny. Doesn’t look strong enough to have killed all those people.”
“He’s only thirty-five. So prime of his life when he did the killings.”
“
If
he did them, you mean.”
“Right. If.”
“But the details of the killings haven’t been made public. The bodies haven’t even been identified.”
“Maybe they have but that info hasn’t been released to the public either,” he replied.
“Why wouldn’t it have
“I already showed my credentials to Ms. Dukes.”
“And you authorized us to see the guy,” added Michelle.
“So I did.”
“Then can we see him?” asked Sean. “In a professional manner?”
Murdock smiled and then nodded at the guards. “Right outside the door, gentlemen. You hear anything out of the ordinary, you know what to do.”
“The guy’s manacled to the floor and there’s a wall of four-inch polycarbonate glass between us,” said Michelle. “I’m not sure there’s much he
can
do.”
“I wasn’t necessarily referring to the prisoner,” replied Murdock.
The door shut behind them, and Sean and Michelle were finally alone with their client.
Sean leaned forward. “Mr. Roy? I’m Sean King. This is my partner Michelle Maxwell. We’re working with Ted Bergin. I know you’ve met with him previously.”
Roy said nothing. Didn’t blink, twitch, or seem to breathe.
Sean sat back, opened his briefcase, and looked at some papers. All pens, paper clips, and other sharp and potentially deadly instruments had been confiscated, although Sean supposed he could have inflicted a nasty paper cut on someone. “Ted Bergin told us that he was preparing a defense for you. Did he talk to you about what exactly that was?”
When Roy made no reaction, Michelle said, “I think we’re wasting our time. In fact, I think I can hear Murdock laughing his ass off behind that steel door.”
“Mr. Roy, we really need to discuss some things.”
“They put him here because he’s not fit for trial, Sean. I don’t know what he was like when he got here, but I can’t believe he’s gotten any better. By the looks of things this guy might be stuck at Cutter’s Rock for the rest of his life.”
Sean put the papers away. “Mr. Roy? Did you know that Ted Bergin has been murdered?” He said it in a blunt, loud tone, obviously hoping to get some type of reaction from Roy.
It didn’t work.
Sean looked around the small space. He leaned close to Michelle and whispered, “What are the odds this room has hidden recorders?”
“Taping an attorney’s conversation with his client? Can’t they get in big trouble for that?” she whispered back.
“Only if someone finds out and can prove it.” He sat back up, took out his cell phone. “No bars. But I had reception right before we got here.”
“Jamming?”
“That’s supposed to be illegal, too. I wondered why they let me keep it. At most prisons they confiscate it from visitors.”
“Because cell phones in prison are going for more money than cocaine. Heard of a guard somewhere out west making six figures a year selling Nokias and service plans at a state pen. Now he’s dialing from inside the place, too.”
“Look at his ankle, Michelle.”
The ankle bracelet was the color of titanium. A glowing red light sat in the center of it.
Michelle said, “They use them in some of the supermaxes and on the likes of Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan. Throws out a wireless signal, pinpoints the person’s precise location. Go outside the zone and an alarm is triggered.”
Sean dropped his voice. “How many places can the guy go in here that he needs an electronic ankle bracelet?”
“Good point. Want to ask Murdock? Or maybe Carla Dukes?”
Sean glanced sharply up at Edgar Roy. Had there been some slight—
No. The eyes were still lifeless dots.
“You think he’s been drugged?” asked Michelle. “His pupils look dilated.”
“I don’t know what to think. Without a medical exam.”
“He’s really tall. But skinny. Doesn’t look strong enough to have killed all those people.”
“He’s only thirty-five. So prime of his life when he did the killings.”
“
If
he did them, you mean.”
“Right. If.”
“But the details of the killings haven’t been made public. The bodies haven’t even been identified.”
“Maybe they have but that info hasn’t been released to the public either,” he replied.
“Why wouldn’t it have
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