for the wrong side. He’d witnessed her falter only once, and he was sure not a single other person had noticed the moment. He’d only caught it because he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.
Her client had been walking into the courtroom early in the morning, the reporters talking amongst themselves, not paying him or anyone else any attention as the trial was nearing its end, and they’d watched the man walk in dozens of times now. Avery had been leaning against the wall at the back of the room looking forward as the client entered.
He’d noticed she liked to arrive early and observe the room. She was good at watching everything around her. Their eyes had connected once. He’d made sure it hadn’t happened again. He wanted to be a ghost to her, to be someone she could pass on the street and not recognize. That helped him to be as invisible as she tried to be outside this room.
He’d made sure to not sit in the same seat twice, to move about the entire room, to get different perspectives, to make himself not only invisible, but to be able to see different faces, to judge the temperament of the room. He’d also changed what he wore daily, the way his hair was combed, and even his posture as he sat. Because he was sure this woman took note of all of that and categorized the people in the audience as much as she did the legal players and the jurors.
But on that morning, he was in a back corner, slouched down and looking at her with hooded eyes. Her client had entered the courtroom between two officers, then passed by the young, pretty court recorder and flicked his fingers across his boner as he’d licked his lips. With his hands cuffed in front of him, it would’ve been hard for anyone to notice. But Carl wasn’t the average person, and he was even more observant than Ms. Klum.
For the briefest of moments, Avery had narrowed her eyes, utter disgust showing in them as she’d looked at her client. It had come and gone so quickly, even if the reporters had been focused on her they never would’ve captured the image on film. But he was sure she wouldn’t have made that expression if the cameras were turned her way. She was far too professional for that. In that moment he’d known she hated this man she was defending. What Carl didn’t understand was how she could hate him and still defend him.
Her client, Jeremy Sputfield, was a major drug dealer. He was a rapist, a thief, and an embezzler. It didn’t get more evil than that. He obviously had zero conscience. He was also very good at covering his tracks. No witness had ever been identified, at least no one who’d been left alive. But Jeremy was smarter than he let on, because even suspected cases of his left zero evidence — until this trial.
A hooker who was currently in witness protection had been one of two of his last victims, and after a night of drugs and violent sex, she’d been left for dead, her throat slashed, her body bruised, and her heart barely beating. She’d told the police he’d kneeled on top of her as he’d slid his blade across her throat, doing it several times, each slash a bit deeper as she’d been able to do nothing but stare into his cold, dark eyes.
He’d laughed as he’d said he loved watching a life slowly ebb from a whore. He’d told her how much fun he’d had with her that night. She’d thought for sure she was dead. She believed the only thing that had saved her was that as he was slashing her throat for the fourth time, a phone call had interrupted him. He’d paused and answered, then smiled at whoever had called. She’d gone dead still, her eyes closed, her chest unmoving, as it was difficult to take in air anyway. She’d felt his weight leave her, then heard him chatting with someone as his voice faded.
She hadn’t moved and must have passed out, because the next thing she remembered was being in a hospital room, armed guards at her door. She’d been afraid to tell her story, knowing this man was a huge player in San Francisco, knowing there was nowhere far enough she could run. But when another attempt to take her life had happened in her room, from a