Adam rolled his eyes. There wasn’t much to like about the lying, cheating, murderous creep, even if the soft-spoken old man did remind Adam of his grandfather. Looks could be damn deceiving.
Still, with Faith Lawton playing watchdog, Adam would have to remind his men to act professionally. The prosecutor, District Attorney Henry Lalane, hadn’t yet committed to refiling charges against Yube, perhaps for simple assault, but Adam wasn’t giving up hope.
“People don’t like your client? Imagine that.”
She shook her head and gave a frustrated sigh, letting him know that his lame attempt at humor had likely been heard a million times before. Defense attorneys, for the most part, got a bad rap. Some deserved the jokes and loathing, and others, like Faith, took full advantage when cops like him didn’t do their jobs right. She was the balance that checked the system of U.S. justice. She wasn’t right all the time, but then, neither was he.
The minute he opened the door, he heard the surge of excitement thrill through the crowd. Without hesitation, Faith burrowed into the tide of people rushing toward another door down the hall. Yube was likely on his way out. Adam hung back, turning his head when the burst of camera flashes and the glare of lights blocked his view. Damn circus. Where was security? Probably lost in the shuffle, just like everything else today.
“Win some, lose some” came a voice at his side, but Adam didn’t have to turn to identify the speaker.
“You’re awfully complacent, Lalane. I thought you didn’t like losing.”
“I hate it. That’s why I usually don’t take cases I can’t win. You really didn’t know about the evidence?”
Stomach acid churned in Adam’s gut, sending a hot shot of frustration up his throat. “Of course not.”
“How did Faith Lawton find out about Jerado?”
Adam shook his head, confident an internal investigation would expose the source. At the moment, he concentrated on the fact that the skin on the back of his neck prickled. The energy in the crowd intensified. Adam watched a line of additional security guards and uniformed police make their way toward Yube and Faith, but he still crossed his arms over his chest and slipped one hand beneath his lapel, his piece close at hand.
“We could have won this one. We had solid evidence.” Adam kept his voice low, though the power of containing his frustration made his teeth hurt. But he stopped his rant before he got started. Again. He’d tried to explain in the courtroom, tried to make the judge understand that Detective Jerado’s mishandling of the evidence hadn’t changed the results—the evidence was still ironclad, even if it had sat unattended for two days. No one could prove if it had or hadn’t been tampered with. In the rational part of his brain, Adam knew the facts didn’t matter. The evidence hadn’t been handled correctly. But his gut still ached from the injustice.
“Like I said, ‘win some, lose some.’” Henry adjusted the belt that secured his pants below a slightly protruding gut. He hand-combed his thinning gray hair and winked a sharp eye that matched his devilish grin. “Buy you a beer?”
Adam snorted. “It’s four-thirty in the afternoon.”
“Hell, Adam, it’s seven-thirty in New York City, Washington D.C., and Miami. Pick a metropolis. We’ll pretend we’re there and cut loose for an afternoon. We deserve it.”
Bit by bit, courthouse security thinned the crowd. Then Adam noted more people pouring in from outside, barely clearing security before they dashed toward Faith and Yube. Through the sea of dark-colored clothing, Adam caught a golden flash of Faith. She had a hand on Yube’s arm and was maneuvering him toward a reporter with a feed from CNN.
“Damn, she killed us,” Henry said, his voice sounding appropriately miffed for the first time since the judge had dismissed the charges.
Adam shook his head emphatically. “No, the only killer around here is Yube. She just added another section to our manual on processing evidence in an emergency situation.”
The crowd swelled again, and when Faith pressed through with Yube on one side and her assistant on the other, Adam had had enough. Heading toward them, he pulled out his cell phone and used the walkie-talkie feature to call for backup, then made his way through the swarm of lookers-on, reporters and various other courtroom clingers, and tugged at Faith’s jacket.
He jerked his head and she seemed to understand that their attempt to leave wasn’t going as it should. She pulled Yube toward her, but lost her assistant temporarily in the melee.
“The crowd’s just as bad behind us!” she shouted. “What’s going on? Where’s Security?”
“Overwhelmed, more than likely. Word must have traveled fast.” To retain a better hold on her, he slipped his hand around her waist. The intimate move made her eyes flash in warning.
“Just give me a second,” Adam insisted. “I’ll get you out.”
In ten minutes, the uniforms had the hallway cleared. The reporters had been ordered off the premises, relegated to the bottom of the limestone steps just below the expansive courtyard and plaza. The neck-craning citizens had been told to get on with their business or move along—and most had dispersed without argument. The hall still wasn’t quiet, as county employees milled toward the exits at the end of the workday, but at least they could talk without yelling.
“We can escort you out the back, then send someone for your vehicles later,” Adam suggested, noting how the hectic quality of the moment had brought a slight sheen to Faith’s skin.
She seemed to consider the suggestion, but Yube, who’d remained judiciously quiet until now, spoke up. “I’d rather go out the front doors, Faith. I’ve been exonerated.” He pointed his gaze directly at Adam and Henry. “I want everyone to see I’m a free man.”
Henry slipped his hands into his pockets and turned his head away. Adam could taste the prosecutor’s anger as bitterly as he could taste his own, but he swallowed his rancor and focused on the matter at hand.
“Your choice, Mr. Yube.”
“Dr. Yube,” the man corrected, his eyes staring daggers.
As if he had any right to still call himself a physician! Adam opened his mouth, but Faith silenced him before he had a chance to give the murderous son of a bitch a piece of his mind.
“Just let’s get out of here, George,” Faith insisted to her client. “Roma?”
Faith’s assistant disconnected her ear from her cell phone. Pretty, young and Hispanic, she glowed, apparently feeding off Faith’s approval. “I checked your messages. Nothing that can’t wait until morning. I also cancelled your five-thirty and rescheduled for tomorrow at nine. Ready to go?”
Roma’s wide brown eyes darted among the party, seemingly oblivious in her youthfulness to the tension crackling around her. Adam figured the girl was fresh out of law school, no more than twenty-four, and likely hadn’t even taken the bar exam, much less passed it.
“Yes,” Faith answered, then nodded toward Henry and Adam. “Mr. Lalane, Detective Guthrie. It’s been a pleasure.”
She marched toward the doors, her assistant struggling to keep up on her pointy high-heeled shoes, and Yube strutting with an arrogant confidence that made Adam’s blood boil.
“So, you in for the brewski or what?” Henry asked.
Adam was severely tempted. When he’d woken up this morning and gone for his run, he’d jogged an extra mile, thanks to the added energy of knowing Yube’s hearing would go their way. He’d never imagined that a distraught detective’s actions would blow this case to shreds. Faith might have been right to question the chain of evidence, and the law might have supported her contention that the lack of control over the evidence made its veracity suspect, but damn, didn’t she realize she’d just helped a baby-killer go free?
“Faith!” he