Free Dead Is Dead (The Jack Bertolino Series Book 3) by John Lansing Page B

break was over in five, and nervous laughter and strident tones echoed off the burnished wood-paneled walls. The mayor had drawn a line in the sand with this heartless shooting, and the public was clamoring for a suspect. Jack stood in the back of the room, with a perfect vantage point of the entire proceedings.
    Jeff, Juan Sanchez’s court-appointed attorney, sat in the second row of benches, shuffling computer printouts and studying his handwritten notes scrawled on a yellow pad. It was the area, not unlike a bullpen, where attorneys waited for their client’s name to be called on the docket before taking center stage and entering a plea. Juan sat one row back, reading over his lawyer’s shoulder, his leg drumming to a silent adrenaline-fueled beat.
    The preliminary hearing would determine if there was enough evidence to try a suspect, assign bail, or remand back to prison if the court deemed the suspect a flight risk, or in the case of a capital crime, deny bail as a matter of course.
    Juan and his lawyer had already struck a deal with the DA’s office under the tutelage of DDA Leslie Sager, and Jack’s heart raced a beat as she entered the courtroom.
    A court of law was Leslie’s bailiwick. She was strong, intelligent, and knew how to control a jury. And with her shoulder-length blonde hair, athletic body, classic features, and magnetic personality, she sucked the air out of the courtroom as she strode past family and friends of the accused, the odd news reporters, defense attorneys, and court flies, toward the bench set aside for the state.
    They’d been in a committed relationship. Jack met her after being falsely arrested for the murder of a beautiful Colombian informant Jack had been intimate with. After they sorted out the State’s mistake, and Jack had run the killer to ground, the two started dating.
    But the inherent dangers involved in Jack’s line of work, and Leslie’s political ambitions, created a schism. They decided to take some time off to reassess their future together. The separation couldn’t have been called amicable, but a strong attraction remained and reconciliation wasn’t out of the question.
    Yet that wasn’t why Jack was in the courtroom. He wanted to view the members of the gallery, people who might have a grudge to bear, or an intimidating message of fear to dole out. Jack had promised to have Juan’s back.
    The carnival atmosphere was silenced with the drop of Judge Irma Solerno’s gavel. No nonsense, of the street, an even-handed jurist. Her proceedings took all of forty-five minutes for seventeen defendants. Court dates assigned, plea deals accepted, and extenuating circumstances adjudicated.
    Jack hit pay dirt when a skinny tweaker struggled with his plea. Juan was next on the docket and had turned to his father for reassurance—and Jack saw the young man jolt upright as if he’d been zapped by 120 volts of electricity.
    Three young Hispanic men slouched in the last row of the gallery sporting major attitudes and florid ink. Their dark eyes lasered onto Juan, their intentions clear, and their smirks deadly. They flashed a subtle gang sign that panicked Juan and spun him back toward the judge, wild eyes looking for an escape route that wasn’t there.
----
    Jack was already standing in the hallway when the court was adjourned for the day. The entire process would begin again at 9:00 a.m. with a new cast of jokers, actors, and criminals. Not that Jack had any disdain for lawyers in general. That would be over Tommy’s dead body. Although Tommy—and Leslie, for that matter—were exceptions to the rule. The courtroom spilled out past Jack, down the hallway, and out the glass front doors toward the parking lot. Jack stood ready to run interference for Juan and his father if needed.
    His intense brown eyes crinkled into a warm smile when Leslie arrived at his side and buzzed a light kiss on his cheek.
    “I saw you on TMZ last night,” she said.
    “So much for