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I opened my mouth to answer, then took another look at Cortez--the cheap suit, the wire-frame glasses, the perpetually funereal expression--and I knew no one was playing the seduction card in this game.
"Well, you know," I said. "I might be able to relate better, be more sympathetic ..."
"The disadvantages of my youth would far outweigh the advantages of our age similarity. As for how I conveniently show up whenever you need a lawyer, let me assure you, that doesn't require insider information or psychic powers. Murders and Satanic altars are hardly everyday occurrences in East Falls. An enterprising lawyer simply has to cultivate an equally enterprising local contact, and persuade him to make contact with any new rumors regarding your situation."
"You bribed someone in town to inform on me?"
"Sadly, it's easier--and cheaper--than you might think." Cortez pushed aside his papers and met my gaze. "This could be a career-making case for me, Paige. Normally, the competition for such a case would be stiff, but, given that you are a witch, I doubt any other sorcerers will be vying for it."
"But you're willing to make an exception. How ... big of you."
Cortez adjusted his glasses, taking more than a few seconds, as if using the pause to decide how best to proceed. "It's ambition. Not altruism. I won't pretend otherwise. I need your case, and you need a lawyer."
"Then I'll find one myself."
"If you choose to replace me later, that's fine. But, for now, I'm the only person here. Your Coven is obviously uninterested in helping or they'd have found a lawyer for you. At the very least, they'd be here to offer moral support. But they aren't, are they?"
He'd almost done it, almost gained my confidence, but then, with those last comments, he undid all his efforts. I stood, strode to the door, and tried the handle. Locked from the outside, of course. An unlock spell was out of the question. I was in enough trouble already. As I lifted my fist to pound on the door, Cortez caught my hand from behind. Didn't grab it. Just caught and held it.
"Let me work on your release," he said. "Accept my services, free of charge, in this one matter and, afterward, if you aren't satisfied with my performance, you may discharge me."
"Wow. A free trial run. How can I refuse? Easy. No deal, Counselor. I don't want your help."
I wrenched my hand from his and lifted my fist to bang for the detective. Cortez put his hand against the door, fingers spread, blocking my fist's path.
"I'm offering to get you out of here, Paige." The formality fell from his voice and I thought, just for a second, that I detected a note of anxiety. "Why would I do that if I was working for the Nast Cabal? They want you in here, where you can't protect Savannah."
"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."
The 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
A TWELVE-STEP PLAN
"Goddamn it!" I said. "I told you people this man is not my--"
