Page 46 of The Devil's Advocate

‘Bloch’s got our backs,’ I said. ‘We need to stop just trying to defend Andy. That’s not going to be enough.’

‘What else can we do?’

‘Not us – Bloch. She’s going to take down Korn, and the sheriff. That’s our best chance of winning this case.’

‘And who is going to watch our backs with Bloch out chasing down the DA?’

‘We’ll look after each other. Now, we’ve got an hour before the hearing. The Sheriff’s Department will bring Andy into court sometime soon. You need to be ready to talk to this kid.’

‘Me?’ said Harry.

‘You and Kate. Get him to trust you. Get the retainer signed. Kate can handle the hearing.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m going to get him some bail money.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

KATE

‘I’m going to give Eddie a lift. Help him with the bail money,’ said Bloch.

Kate nodded, felt a little flutter of nerves in her stomach. She wasn’t nervous because of the upcoming hearing – she always felt better when Bloch was around. Walking past that mob outside hadn’t helped.

‘Hurry back,’ said Kate.

Bloch nodded, and left.

Kate and Harry made their way along the hallway of the old courthouse. A door led to the holding cells. Kate could smell the cells before Harry opened the door. It was a combination of decay and stagnant water. The stairs down to the cells were old stone. Each step was bowed in the center from long use. A single strip light above cast more shadow than anything else. It made the depression in the stairs harder to judge and she almost lost her footing more than once.

At the bottom of the stairs was a desk, a set of lockers for lawyers to put their cell phones and a logbook. The single security guard was watching something on his phone and eating a sandwich that smelled almost as bad as the cells.

‘Kate Brooks and Harry Ford to see Andy Dubois,’ said Kate.

The security guard looked at Kate, then Harry, swallowed the bite of sandwich rolling around in his mouth and put the rest down on the desk. He stood, pulled up his belt and said, ‘They ain’t here yet.’

‘We’ll wait,’ said Kate.

‘You can do whatever you please,’ he said, returning to his sandwich.

Kate looked around the small square room. It was airless, with a narrow hallway leading off to the right and, presumably, to the cells. The walls were painted that special, colorless brand of industrial paint – soulless beige. There were some safety notices on the walls about visiting and handling prisoners. The plastic shades on the overhead lights served to dim the bulbs with dust, nicotine stains and a layer of dead bugs. Kate squinted at the wall behind the security guard’s desk. On it was a whiteboard with a grid. On the left-hand side it gave a list of cell numbers, and beside each one the name of the occupant and any special notes.

#1 Boyd, Richard – biter. Mouth guard to be applied when moving.

All eight cells appeared to be occupied. Names, cell numbers and notes on each prisoner.

The name on cell four was listed asmurderer. There was no further information in relation to this occupant.

‘I thought you said Andy Dubois wasn’t here. He’s in cell four.’

‘Cell four?’ said the guard, turning around to the board. ‘What makes you think that’s him?’

‘His name isn’t listed. Your cells are full. He’s being brought here by the Sheriff’s Department, and the sheriff doesn’t want us to speak to him. Would you like me to go on?’ asked Kate.

‘Let me check,’ said the guard.

He took a set of keys from his belt, disappeared around the corner of the narrow hallway. Kate could hear him whispering to someone else. She peeked around the corner, saw the guard talking to a sheriff’s deputy. It was Shipley, the big cop with the dark hair and dead eyes.