AMA Chapter 10 | 6:25 PM, December 1, 2006 | Tarson, Georgia

JONATHON TOWED HER UNDER THE cover of trees just as the falling mist became rain again. He retrieved a rope from his pack, looped it around the thin metal cord binding her wrists, and tethered her to a tree trunk, giving her about a foot and a half of slack. She felt like a dog on a chain and almost wished he’d bound her fast. The tiny margin of movement was maddening.

“You get three questions,” Jonathon said. He withdrew a small emergency lantern and clicked it on, washing the little shelter in a bluish glow. Shadows exaggerated the angles of Jonathon’s face. Ama still couldn’t remember what he looked like at the bar in Atlanta, but she had the feeling she’d seen him before somewhere else.

“Who are you?” she blurted, instantly regretting she hadn’t thought out all three questions before asking.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Jonathon’s lips, and he glanced down at the ground. “I’m striking that question from the record, Counselor. Try harder.” He was enjoying watching her squirm. She needed to shift the focus, try to change the balance somehow.

Ama swallowed, and her temple throbbed with lingering pain and another wave of fear. She needed to remember that this man, whoever he was, was a criminal, first and foremost. She dealt with criminals all the time. She could talk them off ledges, into patience, out of the truth, and away from self-incrimination. She knew she could push this man’s buttons. She just had to find them.

She forced her expression to relax. “This isn’t about me, Jonathon. This is about you. I need to remember that. So why don’t you start from the beginning?” she said, and leaned forward. “Tell me your story.”