"Hope is the thing with feathers?" she repeated, but still didn't understand. Was somebody poking fun? Or maybe pointing out that they were above having an ugly tree in their front yard? Surely they didn't think hope was going to save it, so it had to be a joke or some highbrow message. It didn't matter. Why was she even wasting her time with it? One thing she knew for certain, hope was something only people in brick mansions could afford to count on. People like herself and Charlie and Jared counted on luck. A little bit of luck could make things happen. She and Jared had crawled up from the same stinking hole. That was the one thing they understood about each other.
She glanced at her watch again. Maybe things hadn't changed as much as she thought, and she picked up her pace. No sense in pissing off Jared.
CHAPTER 4
7:15 a.m.
J ared Barnett watched from across the street, three houses down, in a car he knew she'd never recognize. He had been here once before, but it had been at night, just to scope out the place. He had been pleased to discover no dog or even a trace of one in the backyard, only a shitload of mud and piles of some fucking pebbles that hadn't set properly in the new walkways. He remembered because he'd worried that the sound of him walking over them would wake up the neighbors.
Now sitting here, he wondered why in the world she had chosen a huge, old two-story in the middle of Omaha when she could easily afford a new house out in some ritzy West Omaha suburb? But this was better for him. More traffic; it wouldn't be unusual to have cars parked along the street. Anyone who saw him would simply think he was waiting for a girlfriend in one of the apartments across from her house.
He pulled out the cell phone and flipped it open, stopping to admire it. He might have to hang on to this one.
Technology stuff amazed him. He didn't have a clue how it all worked, but he loved having it, owning it. Like a new toy. He'd had fun in the last week taking pictures-sometimes without anyone knowing since the miniature camera was almost hidden in the back panel of the phone. He could take a person's picture then program it into the phone with that person's phone number. It still amused him that, when he dialed a number, the person's photo came up on the tiny video panel inside. And it blew him away when his phone rang, bringing up the caller's photo as a caller ID. Totally cool.
He'd filled up the queue in just a few days. The only problem was he didn't know how to erase them. That was one disadvantage-stolen cell phones didn't come with instruction manuals, and he hadn't been able to figure out the erasing part on his own yet.
He punched in the number, watching the small video panel then almost laughing out loud when the photo appeared. He'd taken the picture as he ate, catching him between bites, his mouth full of cheeseburger. He liked catching him off guard, sort of keeping him in his place, if only for a second or two and if only inside this high-tech contraption.
"Yeah?" Jared heard him say in place of a greeting, trying his best to sound like a tough guy.
Jared held the sliver of metal to his ear and said, "You almost finished?"
"I told you I'd take care of it." But there was no urgency in his voice.
"When you finish, you know where to meet me, right?"
"I remember."
"Good." Jared pushed End. He hadn't even had time to shut off the phone when it began ringing. Jared thought perhaps he had hung up too soon. Was there something he forgot? But one quick glance at the caller's picture, and he groaned out loud. "What?"
"It has to be today."
Instead of answering immediately, Jared gave him a heavy sigh, his best "don't fuck with me" sigh. Then finally he said, "I told you I'd take care of it."
"That's what you said last week."
"Last week didn't work."
"I'm getting pretty fucking tired of waiting. The set-up is perfect for today. It has to be today."
"I already know all that. I'm taking care of it. Now don't fucking call me anymore."
He snapped the phone shut, this time shutting it off.
Jared Barnett was sick and tired of people wanting things from him. Tired of cleaning up messes. This time there would be no mess. He was making sure of that with his own insurance policy. He pulled the cassette tape out of the pocket of his overalls, flipping it around in his fingers, pleased with the power this little flimsy piece of plastic gave him. The cell phone picture hadn't been the only thing he had taken without the motherfucker realizing it. He had their entire conversation on tape, down to the last instruction.
Just then he noticed the front door to the house open. He pulled down the baseball cap and put the cell phone to his ear again. To anyone watching him, he was just some guy parked along the street to make a few phone calls while he waited for someone.
Her big, Italian husband came out with a briefcase in one hand and a huge Pullman in the other. Excellent-a trip for hubby. So he did have the day right, after all. Following close behind was the little girl. The two were packed and in the car by the time she finally came out, stopping to lock the front door.