Dukes eyed Sean. “Is that right? I just thought you were both investigators.”
“I wear two hats,” said Sean, smoothly picking up on Michelle’s spur-of-the-moment tactic. “I’m a licensed PI and attorney in the Commonwealth of Virginia, where Roy will ultimately stand trial for the charges against him.”
“Do you have some evidence of that?”
Sean handed her his State Bar ID. “A call to Richmond will verify it,” he said.
She handed the card back. “So what exactly do you want to talk to Mr. Roy about?”
“Well, that’s confidential. If I told you, it would break the attorney-client privilege. That would be malpractice on my part.”
“It’s a delicate situation. Mr. Roy is a special case.”
“So we’re finding out,” interjected Michelle.
“We really need to see him,” added Sean.
“The FBI called this morning,” said Dukes.
“I’m sure they did,” said Sean. “Was it Special Agent Murdock?”
She ignored this. “He said that the murder of Ted Bergin might have something to do with his representation of Edgar Roy.”
“Do you think it does?” asked Michelle.
Dukes glanced sharply at her. “How would I know anything about that?”
“Had Bergin been to see Edgar Roy?” asked Sean.
“Of course he had. He was Roy’s legal counsel.”
“How often had he come? And when was the last time?”
“I don’t know that offhand. I’d have to check the files.”
“Could you do that?”
Her hand didn’t stray to the computer keyboard. “Why? If you’re working with him you should already know that information.”
“He came up here separately. We were going to meet with him last night and go over everything. But we obviously never got that chance.”
“I see.” Her hand still didn’t venture to the keyboard.
“Did Special Agent Murdock ask for that information?”
“I’m certainly in no position to tell you whether he did or didn’t.”
“Okay, can we see Edgar Roy now?”
“I’m really not too certain about this. I’ll have to consult with our legal counsel and get back to you.”
Sean rose and sighed heavily. “Okay, I was really hoping not to have to go down that road.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Dukes.
“Can you tell me where the local newspaper office is?”
She looked at him sharply. “Why?”
He checked his watch. “If we hurry, the paper can get the story in for the morning print edition of a federal government facility denying an accused access to his legal counsel. I would imagine the story could hit the AP wire as well, and then it’s a safe bet to be all over the Internet a few minutes after that. Just to get the facts right, do you spell Carla with a C or a K?”
Dukes stared up at him, her lips twitching and her gaze bordering on murderous. “Do you really want to do that?”
“Do you really want to break the law?”
“What law?” she snapped.
“An accused person’s Sixth Amendment right to legal counsel. That’s the Constitution, by the way. And it’s always bad to screw with the Constitution.”
“He’s right, Ms. Dukes.”
Sean and Michelle turned to see Brandon Murdock in the doorway. The FBI agent smiled.
“Enjoy your chat with Edgar Roy,” he said.
CHAPTER
7
SEAN AND MICHELLE WERE ESCORTED into a room that was blankly white. Small. One door. Three chairs, one table, all bolted to the floor. Two chairs faced the one. In front of the one was a three-inch metal ring cemented into the floor. Between the two chairs and the one was a three-foot-wide wall of four-inch polycarbonate glass that ran from the floor to the ceiling.
And then the door opened and there he was.
Sean and Michelle had seen photos of Edgar Roy, both in the newspapers and also in a file packet Ted Bergin had sent them. Sean had even seen a segment of video on the man shortly after his arrest for the murders. Nothing prepared them for seeing the man in person.
He was six foot eight and extremely lean, like a giant number two pencil. He had a golf ball for an Adam’s apple set on a long neck. His hair was dark, long, and curly, and it framed a face that was thin and not unattractive. He wore glasses. Behind the lenses were black dots for eyes, like the die cuts on a pair of dice. Sean noted the man’s slender fingers. Tufts of hair stuck out from inside his ears. He was clean-shaven.
His arms and legs were shackled and he hobbled in truncated steps as the guards led him over to the chair behind the glass and locked the shackles into the floor ring. It allowed him mobility of about six inches. Two guards stood on either side of him. They were big men, with impassive faces. They were seemingly crafted from stone to guard other people. Neither one had weapons other than telescopic metal billy clubs. These could extend out four feet and deliver crushing blows.
At the doorway were two more guards. Each one gripped pump action shotguns that had been modified to hold a Taser component that could fire a twelve-gauge projectile up to a hundred feet, delivering a twenty-second pulse of energy that would lay an NFL tackle on the ground and keep him there for a long time.
Sean and Michelle turned their attention back to Edgar Roy behind the wall of bulletproof glass. His long legs stuck out straight, the heels of his prison-issued canvas loafers kissing the wall of unbreakable glass.
“Okay,” said Sean, drawing his gaze from Roy and and eyeing the guards. “We’ll need to speak to our client alone.”
None of the four guards even moved an inch. They could’ve been statues.
Sean said, “I’m his attorney. We need some alone time, guys.”
Still no movement. Apparently the four men were immobile and deaf.
Sean licked his lips. “Okay, who’s your supervisor?” he asked the guy holding a shotgun.
The man didn’t even look at Sean.
Sean glanced at Roy. Sean wasn’t even sure he was still alive because he couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t blink, didn’t twitch. His eyes just stared straight ahead, looking but apparently not registering on anything.
“Having fun yet?”
They turned to see Agent Murdock staring at them from the doorway.
“For starters, can you tell the muscle to leave the room?” said Sean, his voice rising slightly. “They don’t seem to get the whole attorney-client thing.”
“Last night you were just a PI. Today you’re a 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 been?”
“Maybe this is a really special case.” He rose. “Mr. Roy. Thanks for meeting with us. We’ll be back.”
“We will?” asked Michelle in a low voice.
When they knocked on the door it immediately opened.
“How’d it go?” asked Murdock with a smirk.
“He told us everything,” said Michelle. “He’s innocent. You can let him go now.”
“Found some interesting things at Bergin’s digs at Gray’s Lodge,” said Murdock, ignoring her.
“Oh, yeah, like what?” asked Sean.
“Nothing you need to know about.”
“Oh, you’re a real tease, Murdock,” said Michelle. “Do they teach a class in that at Quantico?”
Sean added, “If it’s attorney work product I do need to know about it. That’s privileged.”
“File some papers then. The Bureau lawyers need a good laugh. In the meantime, you’re not getting the document.”
“So Roy is a zombie. Can he take a pee, feed himself?”
“He’s in good shape. Physically. That answer your question?”
He turned and left.
“That guy really likes us,” said Michelle sarcastically. “Think he’ll want to go on a date with me? I can dispose of the body pretty efficiently.”
Sean wasn’t paying attention to her. He was watching the guards escort Roy back to his cell. As the man passed, Sean could see that he towered over even the biggest of the four guards. Sean also noted that Roy moved under his own power, shuffling along with his manacles clanking. But in the face there was nothing.
Black dots.
Nothing.
Which was exactly what they had right now.
CHAPTER
8
IT WAS EASIER LEAVING Cutter’s Rock than it had been entering it, but not by much. Sean finally grew so exasperated with the level of scrutiny that he snapped at the last layer of guards, “Edgar Roy is not stuffed in our damn tailpipe.” He turned to Michelle. “Hit it!”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The Ford left twin black stripes on the previously pristine asphalt ribbon of Cutter Rock’s entryway. Michelle even gave them a single-finger salute out the window.
As the car made the reverse trek along the causeway Michelle glanced over at her partner, who was lost in thought.
She said, “Your brain is obviously in overdrive. Want to share?”
“While you were getting probed on the way out, I had a chance to ask Duke’s assistant a couple of questions. Roy eats, though not much, and does his necessary bodily function duties during the day. He’s lost some weight, but he’s technically healthy.”
“So he can do all that, but he can’t communicate with anyone?”
“There’s a medical term for it the guy used, but I don’t remember what it was. In any event, apparently his body is working but his mind has shut down.”
“Convenient.”
“Okay, Bergin is dead. Murdered. FBI is on the scene. They’ve covered his lodgings. All his work product is in their hands.”
“So like the guy said, we file some papers in court to get it back.”
“The only problem is I’m not really Roy’s lawyer.”
“But you are a lawyer. You were retained by Ted Bergin, who was Roy’s counsel of record. Doesn’t take a big leap to get you as his legal mouthpiece. Bergin certainly can’t dispute it. So who’s to know or say otherwise?”
“I haven’t practiced in a while.”
“Your license is still active, right?”
“Maybe.”
She slowed the car. “Maybe? That doesn’t quite cut it for death penalty clients, does it?”
“I might need a couple of CLE courses to make things right.”
“Great. I’m sure Agent Murdock will drive you to class.”
“Besides, we were retained as PIs, not lawyers. The court will go by the record in the case. I’m not on the papers as his counsel.”
“All right. Stupid question, then: Was Ted Bergin a solo practitioner?”
Sean shot her a glance. “That’s actually a brilliant question. And one we really need an answer to.”
They got back to Martha’s Inn and both headed to Sean’s room. This caught the eye of the owner, whose name was not Martha but Hazel Burke. She’d lived in this part of Maine all her life, as she had told them at breakfast.
“Your room is on the other side of the hall, dear,” she called up to Michelle from the bottom of the short stack of stairs. From this vantage point she could clearly see the entrance to both rooms. “That is the gentleman’s room you’re about to enter.”
Michelle called back in a tight voice, “But I’m not going to my room. I’m actually going to the gentleman’s room.”
“And will you be staying long in the gentleman’s room?” asked Burke, as she started to climb the steps.
Michelle looked at Sean. “I don’t know. How frisky are you feeling?”
Burke had arrived on the second floor in time to hear this. “Now, dear, we are ladies here.”
“Maybe you’re a lady.”
Sean cut in. “We’re just going to be working on something, Mrs. Burke. A legal case.”
“Oh, you�
�re a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“You heard about that other lawyer, didn’t you? That poor Mr. Bergin?”
“How did you know about that?” asked Sean quickly.
Burke wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, well, dear, murders aren’t so frequent up here that folks don’t talk about them. Everybody knows, I suspect.”
“Right. I guess they do.”
The woman turned to Michelle. “You’re not a lawyer, are you?”
“Why do you say that?” said Michelle stiffly.
“Well, dear, I don’t know you, really, but you just don’t seem the type to wear, you know, dressy clothes.” With obvious distaste, she ran her eyes over Michelle’s faded, tight jeans, dusty boots, white T-shirt, and worn leather jacket.
“You’re right. I actually prefer spandex and spikes.”
“That’s not very nice,” Burke admonished, her broad face growing pink.
“Well, I’m not a very nice person, I guess. Now if you’ll excuse us.”
“I’ll come and check on you in about five minutes.”
“I’d wait a bit longer,” said Michelle.
“Why?” Burke said suspiciously.
Michelle rubbed Sean’s arm. “The gentleman took his Cialis.” She closed the door of Sean’s room with a definite thud. “Okay, that lady is really starting to piss me off.”
“Forget that. I’m going to call Bergin’s office in Charlottesville.”
“Do you think they know?”
“I don’t know. They usually notify the next of kin first. But Ted’s wife is dead and they never had children, at least that he ever mentioned.”
Sean sat on the bed and made the call. Someone answered.
He said, “Hello, it’s Sean King. Is this Hilary? I spoke to you on the phone the other day.” Sean cupped his hand over the phone. “Ted’s secretary.”
Michelle nodded.
“Yes,” said Hilary. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with Mr. Bergin at Cutter’s Rock about now?”
Sean looked grim. She didn’t know. “Hilary, I’m afraid I have some bad news. I don’t like doing this on the phone, but you need to know.” He told her.
The woman gasped, tried to steady herself, and then dissolved into tears. “Oh my God. I can’t believe it.”
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