The Fury - Jason Pinter [21]
sentence. So if your father wants to contest his identity,
so be it. Not my ass sleeping every night on a metal
bench. And did I mention he refuses to consult with a
lawyer?"
"We need to see him," I said. "Right away."
"He's with two detectives right now, but I think he
should be available in an hour or two."
"Wait," Amanda said. "Are they questioning him?"
"If they're doing their job."
"But you said he didn't have a lawyer."
"That's right."
"Then we demand to see him. I have a license to
practice law in New York State, where any legal
hearings pertaining to this case will occur. Right now
your police station is acting as nothing more than a glo
rified holding pen. So I can promise you that anything
James Parker says now will be disallowed in a court of
law under the assumption that your officers coerced
him into making a statement without legal counsel."
"Listen," Whalin said, "right now he isn't even ad
mitting to being the right James Parker, so I doubt
we'll get much--"
66
Jason Pinter
"Now," Amanda yelled.
Whalin looked her over, then said, "Follow me."
He led us into the heart of the BPD station, down a
long brick corridor. At the end was a series of three
rooms, marked simply 1, 2 and 3. He took us to the
right, knocked on the reinforced-metal door.
A small slat opened at about eye level, then the door
opened. Inside were two cops, one in uniform and one
plainclothes. And sitting in a metal folding chair, his
wrists handcuffed to the table, was my father.
His eyes were red. I could tell he'd been crying. He
was still wearing the same clothes, but they were soaked
through with sweat. He was shaking, as though his body
was simply unable to process what was happening.
When he saw us, his mouth opened and his face lit up.
"Henry!" he exclaimed.
"His son," Whalin told the cops. "And Parker's
lawyer." Whalin nodded at Amanda. She went to say
something, but I nudged her. She got the tip. This was
the only way we'd get to speak with him.
"You have half an hour," Whalin said as the other
cops exited the room.
"We'll take as much time as we damn well please,"
Amanda said, staring right into the captain's eyes. He
frowned, told the cops to take a hike.
"We have to lock the door from the outside. Proce
dure. If you want to leave, just knock."
Amanda pointed at the camera hung up in the upper
corner of the interrogation room. A small red light was
blinking on it.
"I want that turned off," she said. Whalin looked at
it, then nodded, making a slicing motion across his
The Fury
67
throat, telling the cops to kill the feed. They walked
away, and a moment later the light went off.
"Thank you, Captain," Amanda said. "We'll be in
touch soon."
We went in and closed the door. A metal snick
came from outside. The cops locking us in with the
alleged murderer.
We took two chairs and pulled them up to the table.
My father reached out to us, but the handcuffs held his
wrists firm. He looked dejected, then said, "Henry,
thank God you're here. Did they tell you? They think I
killed Stephen."
"I know, Dad. The question is why do they think
that?" My father leaned down, started to bite his nails,
his head comically close to the table. "Dad?"
James shrugged, but there was nothing behind it.
"Listen, Mr. Parker," Amanda said. "Your best option
right now is to sign the nonjudicial review waiver. Once
you do that they'll bring you back to New York and
begin actual legal proceedings. I'll help you get a
lawyer, or at least weed out the bad ones."
"I don't want to leave here," my father said softly.
"Dad, jail isn't exactly comfortable," I said.
"I mean, I don't want to leave Bend," he said more
forcefully. "I didn't do anything. I didn't kill Stephen.
They can't just take me wherever they want."
I looked atAmanda. She said, "Mr. Parker, if you don't
sign the waiver you'll stay in Bend, but you'll be in prison
until they prove your identity. It could be weeks, months.
And that's before any sort of trial.And trust me, you won't
be doing yourself any favors