'I'll get out. They'll set bail and I can make it.'
'I'm not talking about setting bail. I'm talking about getting you out. Permanently. No charges.'
'I'm not-'
'What if they don't set bail? How long are you willing to stay in jail? To leave Savannah in the care of others.' He met my eyes. 'Without you to protect her.'
Trie arrow hit its mark. My Achilles heel. For one brief moment, my resolve wavered. I glanced at Cortez then. He stood there, waiting for me to agree. And, though there was no smugness in his face, I knew he assumed I would agree.
I whammed my fist against the door, catching Cortez off guard. On the second bang, Flynn yanked it open.
'This man is not my lawyer,' I said.
I turned my back on Cortez and walked into the hall.
After Cortez left, they put me back in the private meeting room. Another hour passed. Flynn didn't return to question me. No one did. They just left me there. Left me to sit and stew, then to pace, then to bang on the door trying to get someone's attention.
Savannah was out there, unprotected, with strangers who had no idea of the danger she faced. Yet again I was constrained by human laws. By law, they could hold me here for any 'reasonable length of time' before charging me. What was reasonable? Depended on the person supplying the definition. Right then, for all I cared, they could go ahead and charge me with murder, so long as I could post bail and take Savannah home.
Nearly two hours passed before the door opened.
'Your new lawyer,' said an officer I hadn't met.
For one fleeting moment, one desperate moment of naive hope, I thought the Elders had found someone to represent me. Instead, in walked… Lucas Cortez. Again.
Chapter 13
'GODDAMN IT!' I SAID, 'I TOLD YOU PEOPLE THIS MAN IS NOT MY-'
Before I could finish, I found myself, once again, caught in a binding spell. The officer, having paid no attention, closed the door and left me alone with Cortez. When the door shut, he undid the spell. I grabbed for the door handle, but Cortez caught my hand. I spun to face him.
'You scheming son of a bitch! I don't believe this. I told them-I told that detective-no one's listening to me! Well, they're going to listen now. I didn't sign anything and if you have papers with my signature, I'll prove it's a forgery. Whatever the penalty is for misrepresenting a client-'
'They aren't going to charge you.'
I stopped. 'What?'
'They don't have enough evidence to charge you now and I doubt they will ever find the evidence they need. The injuries to Mr. Cary make it impossible to argue that you pushed him out the window. Furthermore, I have proven that there is no evidence to indicate you came in physical contact with Mr. Cary at the time of his death. His office was cleaned Saturday night. The only fingerprints found within belong to Mr. Cary and his cleaner, as do the only footprints on the vacuumed carpet near his desk. The scene shows no sign of a struggle. Nor does his body. It would appear that Mr. Cary's chair was lifted from the floor without human intervention and propelled with great force out the window.'
'How are they explaining that?'
'They aren't. While they may believe you did it, they cannot prove it.'
'How do-' I stopped. 'They think I used witchcraft?'
'That is the general consensus, though wisely left unmentioned on all official papers. Since such an accusation would never pass a Grand Jury, you are free.'
Cortez checked his watch. 'We should leave. I believe Savannah is growing quite restless. We have to complete some paperwork before you can be released. I must insist that you refrain from speaking to any law enforcement officers we encounter during our departure. As your lawyer, I will handle all external communications herein.'
'As my lawyer…?'
'I believe I have proven my intentions are-'
'Above reproach?' I turned and met his gaze, keeping my voice soft, reasonable, letting no trace of anger escape. 'But they aren't, are they?'
'I am not working for-'
'No, you probably aren't. I accept your story, that you're here to offer your services to further your career… at my expense.'
'I'm not-'
'Do I blame you for it? No. I run a business. I know what someone our age needs to do to get ahead. I need to undercut the competition. You need to take cases the competition won't touch. If you want to bill me for today, go ahead. I'll pay. You earned it. But I can't-won't-work with you.'
I opened the door and walked out.
Finishing the paperwork proved an ordeal; the grim-faced desk clerk filled out forms so slowly you'd think his wrist was broken. Worse yet, Flynn and the other detectives stood off to the side, watching me with glares that said I wasn't fooling them, I was simply another criminal who'd gotten away with murder.
Cortez, as one might expect, didn't accept defeat so easily. He stuck around to help me with the paperwork, and I let him. Why? Because six hours in captivity was enough for me. If the police knew that my freedom had been arranged by a man misrepresenting himself as my lawyer, could they toss me back inside? Accuse me of fraud? Probably not, but I didn't know the legalities involved and, now that I was free, I wasn't about to start posing any hypothetical questions that might land me in a jail cell. I didn't say that Cortez was my lawyer and I didn't say he wasn't. I ignored him and let the police draw their own conclusions.
When I went to collect Savannah, Cortez took his leave. He said nothing more than a murmured good-bye. To be honest, I felt a bit sorry for him. Sorcerer or not, he had helped me, and it hadn't done him a damn bit of good. I hoped he took me up on my offer of payment. At least then his efforts would have some reward.
I found Savannah in the waiting room. The public waiting room, amidst a half-dozen strangers, none of them the 'armed state troopers' Detective Flynn had mentioned. Anyone could have walked into that room, including Leah. On the heels of my flare of anger came another silent thanks to Lucas Cortez for getting me out.
If he didn't bill me, I promised myself I'd track him down and pay him anyway.
The waiting room looked like waiting rooms everywhere, with cheap furniture, yellowing posters, and stacks of year-old magazines. Savannah had laid claim to a row of three chairs and was lying across them, sound asleep.
I knelt beside her and gently shook her shoulder. She mumbled something and knocked my hand away.
'Savannah, hon? Time to go home.'
Her eyes opened. She blinked and struggled to focus.
'Home?' She pushed up onto her elbow and smiled. 'They let you out?'
I nodded. 'I'm free to go. They aren't going to charge me.'
At my words, an elderly woman turned to stare at me, then mumbled something to the man beside her. I was struck by the overwhelming urge to explain, to turn to these strangers and tell them I hadn't done anything wrong, that my being here was a mistake. I bit it back and tugged Savannah to her feet.
'Have you been out here the whole time?' I asked.
She nodded sleepily.
'I'm so sorry, hon.'
