What wasn't simple was the amount of criticism leveled at the police department and the prosecutor's office. So much so that even a recent string of convenience-store robberies had the media impatient for a resolution.
Grace glanced at the defense table, noticing that Penn and Richey had started to make their way out the door, taking a good portion of the crowd with them. That's when she saw him.
Jared Barnett stood in the back row, waiting his turn to get out the door-standing and waiting as if he were just one of the spectators.
"Speak of the devil," she said to Pakula and he followed her gaze.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered. "I saw him outside on the steps one day last week, too. Just can't stay away, can he?"
Grace had seen him, too, only it was in the coffee shop across the street from the courthouse, and then again right outside her dry cleaner's. She tried to convince herself it was Jared Barnett's way of thumbing his nose at them, at them all. Not that he had singled her out. But just as he got to the door he looked over at her, and he smiled.
CHAPTER 2
7:30 p.m.
Logan Hotel- Omaha, Nebraska
Jared Barnett listened for the elevator, waiting for the grind and scrape of metal, the whine of the hydraulics. Where the hell was he?
He stayed in the shadows and leaned against the wall, ignoring the avalanche of plaster his shoulder set loose. No one had seen him enter the building. No one except the skinny crack whore with dirty-blond hair and eyes so glazed over she'd never remember what" day it was, let alone his face.
At the end of the hall someone was cooking spinach. God! He hated that smell. It reminded him of his stepfather who'd forced him to eat everything off his plate, and if he didn't, the bastard shoved his face into the green glob of shit. He couldn't help thinking the stench belonged here. It was a perfect addition to the dog piss on the carpet and the cockroaches skittering in and out of cracks and under doors. It also seemed the perfect place for Danny Ramerez to call home.
He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right then switched the sacks of takeout to his other hand. The food would be cold, though it didn't matter much. He was hungry and he loved Chinese food, even cold Chinese food. Although he was getting tired of holding the bags. He had thought about setting them down, but the fucking roaches would be all over them in seconds.
Jared checked his wristwatch, needing to squint to make out the time in the dim light. Ramerez was late. Why the fuck was he late? He had followed him three nights in a row and could probably set his watch to him. Now, all of a sudden, the bastard was late. But then he heard the elevator, the screech and then the whine. He was on his way up.
Jared stayed in the shadows, waiting. Reaching the sixth floor took forever, a noisy journey of squeaky pulleys and wobbling metal. He was glad he had taken the stairs up. Finally the doors opened.
Danny Ramerez looked smaller in this crappy light. Jared watched him walk down the hallway, one of those jerky walks with quick little steps. Ramerez was at his door with the key in the lock before Jared started down the hall after him.
"Hey, man," he said and Ramerez nodded without looking up. "How ya doing, Danny?"
This time Ramerez did a double take, his eyes getting wide as he recognized Jared.
"I brought us some takeout," he told him, wanting to calm his worries and holding up the bags. "Chinese."
"What are you doing here?"
"What are you talking about? You didn't think I'd come by and say hey?"
Ramerez finally got the door opened, but now he hesitated.
"You did me a big favor," Jared said, this time with a smile. "I just wanted to buy you dinner and say thanks."
Ramerez was studying him, meeting his eyes as if looking for the truth there. Then suddenly he looked away and shrugged. "You don't owe me anything. Your redheaded friend already paid me. Even threw in a laptop computer."
Jared smiled again; it didn't take much to buy off someone like Danny Ramerez. He understood him all too well. That's why he couldn't trust him. "Hey man, it's just some kung pao chicken and chow mein. A few egg rolls. It's no big deal."
He let Ramerez think about it while he stood there pretending it was no big deal, still not making any attempt to leave. Finally Ramerez shrugged again and waved him into the small apartment that looked like a cross between a rummage sale and a garbage dump. A pile of clothes covered a threadbare recliner, and Jared could smell what had to be dirty socks or rotten eggs. Magazines and comic books were stacked on the floor. A collection of beer bottles and cans shared the shelves with discarded take-out wrappers and foam containers. A cardboard pizza box lay open on the coffee table with two pieces left, the toppings suddenly skittering out of the box.