the gallery. Pens scrambled frantically across paper. The murmur of voices into minicassette recorders was like the low hum of an engine. Franken banged his gavel.
Enberg hopped up from his chair. "Your Honor, that's outrageous! My client is a professor at one of the top private colleges in the country. He works with juvenile offenders. He is a well-respected member of this community—"
"Who happens to be charged with heinous crimes," Franken said.
"He has ties to the community, and the charges are ludicrous—"
"And he was apprehended after a lengthy chase. Save it for the hearing, Dennis," Franken ordered. "He's a flight risk. I'm setting bail in the mount of five hundred thousand dollars, cash. Omnibus hearing on the—the—" He shook a crooked finger at his clerk. "Whatever Renee said."
"Tuesday, February first."
"The defendant shall be booked, photographed, and fingerprinted," Franken stated. "And he shall undergo a physical exam for scratches, bruises, et cetera, and surrender samples of blood and hair for analysis and comparison with evidence."
He cracked the gavel again, signaling the end of the proceedings. The reporters jumped up and scrambled over one another to get to the door or to get to the lawyers or Paul Kirkwood, who had positioned himself directly behind the prosecutors. Jay eased out of his seat and took a position at the back of the pack.
"He should rot in jail," Kirkwood said. "After what he put my son through. After what he put us all through."
"If Garrett Wright is guilty, then who returned Josh?"
"Has your son identified Garrett Wright as his kidnapper?"
"Is there any truth to the rumor the police are still considering you a suspect?"
Kirkwood's face flushed. His eyes were bright with temper. "I had nothing to do with my son's disappearance. I am one hundred percent innocent. Any accusation to the contrary is just another example of the incompetence of the Deer Lake police department."
"Let's break it up, folks!" the white-haired bailiff called. "We've got business to conduct in this courtroom!"
As the circus moved out into the hall, Jay took a seat, keeping his head down as he jotted notes and avoided recognition. As much as he enjoyed his fame and fortune, there was something to be said for anonymity. Particularly now.
The case had drawn him here. He wanted to be able to take it all in without the interference discovery would bring. Unfortunately, he wasn't going to be able to get the kind of access he wanted without using his name like a pry bar.
He took one last look at Ellen North, who sat in conference with her associate at the prosecution's table. He speculated as to what he might get there besides a hot tongue and a cold shoulder. A challenge, some insight, a kick in the ego.
He knew what he wanted. And he could guaran-goddamn-tee it she wouldn't give it to him without a fight.
CHAPTER 6
"The goddamn lawyers strike again."
"I can't believe that bitch asked for a million dollars' bail. A million dollars! Shit!"
"My. North was only doing her job," Christopher Priest said. He stood at the front of the classroom, a small man with big glasses and bad taste in clothes. His students sometimes teased him about perpetuating the stereotypical image of computer people as nerds, but their comments ind suggestions went unheeded. There were certain advantages to the image. Unfounded assumptions could be useful things.
"Her job,"Tyrell Mann jeered. Even his posture was disrespectful. He sprawled back in his chair with his long arms crossed over the front of his Chicago Bulls starter jacket. "Her job is to fuckin' pin this on somebody. Fuckin' cops would'a nailed a brother for it, but there ain't hardly no niggers in this fuckin' hick town."
"That's not logical, Tyrell," Priest said, unaffected by the bravado or the language.
He had helped found the Sci-Fi Cowboys. Even though
Enberg hopped up from his chair. "Your Honor, that's outrageous! My client is a professor at one of the top private colleges in the country. He works with juvenile offenders. He is a well-respected member of this community—"
"Who happens to be charged with heinous crimes," Franken said.
"He has ties to the community, and the charges are ludicrous—"
"And he was apprehended after a lengthy chase. Save it for the hearing, Dennis," Franken ordered. "He's a flight risk. I'm setting bail in the mount of five hundred thousand dollars, cash. Omnibus hearing on the—the—" He shook a crooked finger at his clerk. "Whatever Renee said."
"Tuesday, February first."
"The defendant shall be booked, photographed, and fingerprinted," Franken stated. "And he shall undergo a physical exam for scratches, bruises, et cetera, and surrender samples of blood and hair for analysis and comparison with evidence."
He cracked the gavel again, signaling the end of the proceedings. The reporters jumped up and scrambled over one another to get to the door or to get to the lawyers or Paul Kirkwood, who had positioned himself directly behind the prosecutors. Jay eased out of his seat and took a position at the back of the pack.
"He should rot in jail," Kirkwood said. "After what he put my son through. After what he put us all through."
"If Garrett Wright is guilty, then who returned Josh?"
"Has your son identified Garrett Wright as his kidnapper?"
"Is there any truth to the rumor the police are still considering you a suspect?"
Kirkwood's face flushed. His eyes were bright with temper. "I had nothing to do with my son's disappearance. I am one hundred percent innocent. Any accusation to the contrary is just another example of the incompetence of the Deer Lake police department."
"Let's break it up, folks!" the white-haired bailiff called. "We've got business to conduct in this courtroom!"
As the circus moved out into the hall, Jay took a seat, keeping his head down as he jotted notes and avoided recognition. As much as he enjoyed his fame and fortune, there was something to be said for anonymity. Particularly now.
The case had drawn him here. He wanted to be able to take it all in without the interference discovery would bring. Unfortunately, he wasn't going to be able to get the kind of access he wanted without using his name like a pry bar.
He took one last look at Ellen North, who sat in conference with her associate at the prosecution's table. He speculated as to what he might get there besides a hot tongue and a cold shoulder. A challenge, some insight, a kick in the ego.
He knew what he wanted. And he could guaran-goddamn-tee it she wouldn't give it to him without a fight.
CHAPTER 6
"The goddamn lawyers strike again."
"I can't believe that bitch asked for a million dollars' bail. A million dollars! Shit!"
"My. North was only doing her job," Christopher Priest said. He stood at the front of the classroom, a small man with big glasses and bad taste in clothes. His students sometimes teased him about perpetuating the stereotypical image of computer people as nerds, but their comments ind suggestions went unheeded. There were certain advantages to the image. Unfounded assumptions could be useful things.
"Her job,"Tyrell Mann jeered. Even his posture was disrespectful. He sprawled back in his chair with his long arms crossed over the front of his Chicago Bulls starter jacket. "Her job is to fuckin' pin this on somebody. Fuckin' cops would'a nailed a brother for it, but there ain't hardly no niggers in this fuckin' hick town."
"That's not logical, Tyrell," Priest said, unaffected by the bravado or the language.
He had helped found the Sci-Fi Cowboys. Even though
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