The apparent skip in chapters is because I added a chapter earlier in the novel, which I haven’t yet posted because I’m not sure what to do about it. I’d have to rename every single blog post forward, and it’s pretty early in the book! So for now, I’m not going to change anything. It’s a chapter that adds some info, from Phoebe’s POV. I’ll work out how to get it in here. Promise!
…..CHAPTER 38…..
December 30th
“The Prosecution calls to the stand, the Director of the Federal Bureau of Witchcraft and Registration, Nico Dale.”
Nico stood from the bench beside him. Oliver offered him a smile of satisfaction, and his Handler returned it. Once he was sworn in and seated, Nico answered questions with ease, thoughtfully pausing to form his sentences, laying out the evidence to support the accusations. He was a near perfect witness, and Oliver filled to the top with pride in his Handler. What a good man, Nico was. God, I’m so lucky he picked me.
Because despite the skillful meddling of the former Director, Thomas Langley, there was no guarantee Nico would’ve picked Oliver.
“And finally, Director, what happened to move the scheduled arrest forward? I understand that a certain piece of information came to light.”
“Correct. We received information that the witches in the catchments were dying more quickly. Our speculation is that he’d ramped siphoning higher, draining their energy to the point of pulling bodily energy as well, causing burn-out, a condition unique to witches. With a higher mortality rate, we had to move, even if we were wrong about the cause, which we couldn’t prove until we got in there, thus the warrant. Lives were at stake. Time was of the essence.”
She asked more questions, getting details, providing evidence, including the paper sent by their informant, showing the losses.
When the Defense stood to question Nico, again the man answered easily, cool under fire from some pretty hard questions.
The defense wrapped up with an odd question. “And are you aware that your case has holes in it a mile wide? The Defense can prove the case against my client is specious and petty.”
Nico waited without answering.
The man turned to his desk and strode over to Kipling, spoke with him for a moment. The paralegal had his head in with the other two, and he turned and left the room after a moment.
Oliver wondered what shenanigans they were up to.
The man broke from Kipling and approached Nico then. “Do you know Mr. Kipling, Director Dale?”
“No, I do not. I’d never met him before the day I went to arrest him.”
“Does anyone else in your department know him?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Careful, Director Dale. You are under oath.”
Nico looked puzzled. “I’m telling the truth.”
Defense Attorney Mills smiled and it wasn’t a pleasant expression. It looked faintly predatory. “No further questions, your Honor.”
The judge lifted his gavel and banged it. “We’ll recess for lunch. Be back here at one-thirty.”
“What the hell was that about?” Randall muttered beside him. On the other side of him, Jesse shifted in discomfort, eyes dark, mouth tight.
Oliver was wondering the same thing as Nico dismounted the stand and strode back to them without concern.
Once outside the courtroom, though, Nico’s brows narrowed. “What the hell?” he grumbled. “Do we have time to go back to the Bureau?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because he shook his head and sighed in frustration. “Oliver, did you bring your laptop?”
“It’s in the car, but yes.”
“Would you mind grabbing it? I want to do some research really quick.”
Oliver left the building, hurried to the parking garage down the street where they’d left the sedan, returning with the laptop and handing it over. The four of them found a nice secluded alcove to sit.
Oliver wondered what he was looking up.
Jesse stood abruptly. “Can I head back to the Bureau, sir?”
Nico waved him on, and the man disappeared. Oliver stood and followed him from the alcove, watching the Handler stride down the wide, busy hallway toward the exit. Jesse was anxious? It didn’t show, but Oliver was almost certain of it. What was bothering the man?
When he returned to his Handler and Randall, they were talking quietly.
Nico shook his head. “I don’t think so. Go see if you can find out.”
Randall rose and pulled his phone from as his pocket as he headed toward the front of the building, too.
Oliver met his Handler’s gaze. “What?”
Nico looked grim. “I don’t know. I think the defense is about to pull something. Something stupid but workable, or they wouldn’t bother.”
“Like what?”
“That’s the problem. I’m not a lawyer. I’m going to ask the prosecutor, see if we can get an idea. Otherwise we need to double-check everything.”
Oliver nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
“Call Isaac. Ask him to come into the courtroom. He might not. Tell him to put on a damn wig or something. I want him here. Then I want you to eat something and drink, and relax. Your testimony is after lunch.”
Oliver followed Jesse and Randall’s path, out the front door again.
He pulled a protein bar from his pocket, took a bite, pulling up Isaac’s number. He still couldn’t believe he was on speaking terms with the Fire witch. But allies were allies, whether you liked them or not.
But oddly enough, he did like Isaac. The younger man had integrity and determination.
“Kidd, here.”
“Hi Kidd. Oliver here.”
“Ugh,” he muttered. “What?”
“Nico wants you to come to the courtroom. Disguise yourself or something, because we think something is happening.”
There was a tense silence. A click sounded, then background noise came through. “You’re on speaker with me and Dillon.”
He explained again, and Dillon made a soft little curse. “Go. I’ve got the shop.”
“What? I don’t want to go…”
“You might be needed, Isaac. Go. Take my hat. Keep your face down but not obvious. Pretend to play on your phone, like you usually do.”
Isaac’s protests aside, Oliver suspected the man would do it.
“Fine,” he hissed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thanks.”
“Screw you, Tame,” he bit out, then hung up.
Oliver rolled his eyes and tucked his phone away. He paced the little open plaza in front of the courthouse, glanced at the water feature toward the front closer to the street. It was made of clean lines, elegant, simple. Sort of bland, honestly. How would he have made it? In fact, the whole building was rather insipid. Yes, it had been made with nice materials that worked well together, but couldn’t they have done something more…interesting?
Oliver shook his head, leaning against the waist-high, decoratively lined, cement planter near the street, eyeing the area. A deciduous tree over his head was bare, its bed behind his ass full of mulch. The lunch hour was nearly over. “Hurry up, dude,” he whispered to Isaac, as if the guy could hear him.
Fiddling with his phone for another fifteen minutes, he couldn’t wait any longer. It wasn’t realistic to expect Isaac to be here yet, anyway. It was a long way from DTC to downtown. Still…he hoped Isaac arrived in time.
Turning to head back inside, Oliver climbed the stairs. At the top, he glimpsed a group of suits mounting the eastern stairs, closer to the entrance.
He normally wouldn’t have noticed them. But he would never forget the anxiety he felt around Culver. The man strode beside another man that Oliver recognized as the Attorney General’s Deputy, Calvin Brinski, who was surrounded by his staff.
After he’d learned the AG was looking into the Kipling arrest, Oliver had researched the man, and his subordinates, too, of which Brinski ranked just under Felton. The pair were apparently best of buddies, according to some research he’d found—through some questionable tactics that he’d learned from Tracy.
The group moved in a cluster toward the entrance, passing him about ninety feet away as they climbed the steps, talking quietly. The Deputy AG saw him and gave a neutral smile, no sign of recognition in his eyes as he turned to say something to another suit.
Culver, however, saw him and smiled broadly, then gave him a wink.
Then they disappeared inside.
Oliver lifted his phone from his pocket.
“What’s up Oliver?” Nico said.
“I have a bad feeling about this. The Deputy AG, General Culver, and a pack of lawyers just walked into the building. And no. That’s not a joke.”
Nico didn’t say anything, just hung up.
Oliver glanced at the time on his phone. He was due for his own testimony soon.
And Isaac wasn’t here.