Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [720]
He let Ramerez think about it while he stood there pretending it was no big deal, still not making any attempt to leave. Finally Ramerez shrugged again and waved him into the small apartment that looked like a cross between a rummage sale and a garbage dump. A pile of clothes covered a threadbare recliner, and Jared could smell what had to be dirty socks or rotten eggs. Magazines and comic books were stacked on the floor. A collection of beer bottles and cans shared the shelves with discarded take-out wrappers and foam containers. A cardboard pizza box lay open on the coffee table with two pieces left, the toppings suddenly skittering out of the box.
Ramerez started shoving things aside as if to tidy up for his guest. While he moved stacks and collected trash, Jared pulled out an oversize, black trash bag from one of the take-out bags and began laying it over the scuffed linoleum floor in the middle of the room. Ramerez glanced at him a couple of times before he stopped.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to make a mess,” Jared told him.
Ramerez laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
He came over to take a closer look, examining the plastic and even walking onto it, stepping carefully as if looking for a trap. But, of course, he didn’t see it. He was still looking down at the black plastic under his feet when Jared whipped the knife out from the same take-out bag. All it took was one slash up under and across the throat, so quick that Ramerez saw his own blood splatter the plastic. He grabbed at the wound, his fingers slipping into the gaping flesh as if attempting to hold it together. His wide eyes met Jared’s, shock and realization contorting his entire face before he finally crumpled onto the plastic.
Jared looked around the room and decided on the recliner. He shoved the clothes off, checked for cockroaches, then grabbed the other take-out bag and sat down. Danny Ramerez wasn’t going anywhere. There was no big hurry to take out the trash. Jared Barnett pulled out a plastic fork and the container of kung pao chicken and began to eat.
Wednesday, September 8
CHAPTER 3
7:00 a.m.
Omaha, Nebraska
Melanie Starks quickened her pace. The sun peeked over the bell towers of St. Cecelia’s Cathedral. The days were already growing shorter. Summer was almost over but was making one last grand stand. It was only the beginning of her walk, and already Melanie could feel her breathing becoming labored. The air was thick and heavy with moisture.
She studied the horizon in the opposite direction. Having cursed sunrises for years she almost hated to admit how much she enjoyed them now. But this morning’s sunrise gave her a bad feeling, even a sudden chill as a trickle of sweat made its way down her back. The sun was barely able to squeeze through the storm clouds that were gathering, a gravestone-gray sky streaked bloodred. It was an eerie combination, and she could hear her mother repeating one of her silly superstitions:
“Red sky in morning,
Sailors take warning.
Red sky at night,
Sailors delight.”
The weather only seemed to fuel her restlessness, to ignite her disappointment, her frustration…Oh, hell, she should call it what it was—her anger. Yeah, that’s right. She was angry, pissed off. Jared hadn’t been back two weeks and already things were changing.
She resented having to cut short her morning walk. What was it about his sudden freedom that took precedence over her own? That’s what it felt like when he called last night and left the message to meet him for breakfast. Summoning her as if he could still boss her around just like when they were kids. He used that brief yet demanding tone of his, “Meet me at that place we talked about. It’s time.”
“It’s time,” she mimicked under her breath. She had no idea what the hell he was talking about. It was as if he was talking in code. As if they were kids again, plotting one of their childhood conspiracies. Ever since he had gotten back he had been planning something, something big or so he kept saying. But, of course, he couldn’t tell her until it