Waking The Serpent - Jane Kindred

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Absolutely. Whether such testimony would be admissible in court is another matter. Of course, everything Rafael has told me is confidential, so all of this is merely hypothetical, you understand.”

      Phoebe nodded and swallowed a mouthful of salad. “Of course. I didn’t mean to pry.”

      Carter touched her arm. “I didn’t think you were prying. Just reminding myself, really. You’re easy to talk to. I find I’m forgetting myself.” He regarded her for a moment. “Can I ask you something personal?”

      Phoebe pushed lettuce around in her plastic clamshell. “Fire away.”

      “Is there a reason you aren’t a member of the Covent? Other than the obvious philosophical differences, of course.”

      “Yes, there is.” Phoebe smiled. “I’m not a witch.”

      “So you don’t believe the animating forces of nature have a spiritual component.”

      “I’ve never been big on spirituality. I believe in science.”

      “Yet as an accomplished evocator, you work with spirit beings.”

      Phoebe shrugged. “I suppose I consider magic to be just another facet of science. The flip side, if you will. I don’t attribute it to any god.”

      “Some might attribute it to the flip side of a god.”

      Her brows quirked upward. “The province of the Devil? Isn’t that considered heresy in the craft?”

      Carter laughed with genuine amusement. “No, of course not the Devil. I was thinking along the lines of a goddess. Inanna or Astarte, for instance. Lilith.” He glanced at his conspicuously expensive watch. “I’m afraid I need to get back. But it was delightful talking with you, Phoebe—I hope I can call you Phoebe?”

      He certainly had a way of making everything he said sound utterly sincere.

      She smiled. “Of course.”

      * * *

      Upstairs, Carter paused before they went their separate ways. “I hope we’ll have a chance to talk again soon.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips and Phoebe blushed, not sure anyone had ever kissed her hand before.

      “Phoebe?” The surprised voice was a deep baritone. Phoebe looked up to find Rafe staring at the two of them, dark brows drawn together in mistrust. “What’s going on?”

      Carter let go of her hand and gave Rafe a placid smile. “Just lunching with Ms. Carlisle. We all have business in court today, as it happens.”

      Phoebe glanced from Carter to Rafe. “You have business in court?”

      Rafe looked grim. “Barbara Fisher’s death has officially been ruled a homicide. And I’m officially being arrested.”

       Chapter 9

      Phoebe’s face was slightly flushed as she studied Rafe, as if he’d interrupted something more than lunch. Her surprise at the news, at least, seemed genuine.

      Hamilton filled in the details Rafe had left out. “I was able to get Rafael an immediate arraignment hearing on the condition that he come in on his own. This is just a formality. We’ll be entering a not-guilty plea, of course. I’m completely confident he won’t be spending a moment in jail.”

      Phoebe glanced from one man to the other. “I hope everything goes well.”

      “I’m sure it will.” Rafe couldn’t help adding with a touch of bitterness, “When you’re my father’s son, things usually do.”

      He couldn’t get the idea out of his head that Phoebe’s lunch with Hamilton was more than just business. Or had they been discussing Rafe’s case? Was that why she was blushing? Was that guilt? What other reason would Phoebe have for meeting with Rafe’s lawyer? He hadn’t slept well last night; maybe he was imagining things. It was probably just a social meeting like Hamilton said. So why did seeing Phoebe Carlisle with Carter Hamilton fill Rafe with such misgiving?

      If he had any sense, the legal proceedings he was about to face should be filling him with much greater misgiving. In twenty minutes he’d be standing in front of a judge for his formal arraignment on a murder charge. Every step of this seemed surreal.

      He realized he was still staring at the two of them as if he’d caught them in flagrante. Rafe addressed Phoebe, trying to ignore the unpleasant conviction that he was somehow being punked. “Have you had any more contact with the step-ins?”

      She cast a sideways glance at Hamilton. “Briefly. We can talk later, if you like.”

      Hamilton frowned. “If you have any information relevant to Rafael’s case, it’s important I’m kept apprised.”

      “I’ll keep you apprised,” Rafe interrupted. “If there’s something I need you to know.”

      Hamilton’s expression flickered with disapproval before settling back into the usual, neutral-yet-confident smile he must have learned in law school. “Of course. So long as there are no surprises that come up in the prelim. I don’t like surprises.”

      “I’ll call you, Phoebe.” Rafe nodded to Hamilton. “I guess we’d better get this over with.”

      * * *

      Rafe thought perhaps his father would show up for the arraignment, but as the judge read the charge of second-degree murder, Rafael Sr. was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was avoiding the inevitable media swarm. Or maybe he just didn’t give a damn. After all, he’d thrown his money at the problem and he expected it to go away.

      With his plea entered and bail posted, Rafe had seen enough of courts and lawyers to last him indefinitely, but Hamilton was sticking to him like an annoying lapdog.

      “You’re going to need some help getting through the media gauntlet outside.” Hamilton followed close behind as Rafe headed downstairs. “Why don’t I have my car brought around to take you back to your place? I can have someone drop yours off later when things settle down.”

      “I’m parked around the side.” Rafe pulled out the baseball cap he’d tucked into his back pocket and tugged it on as he headed for the exit. “I’m good.”

      “I’ll follow you over, then.” Hamilton was still at his heels. “We can talk about strategy.”

      Rafe sighed and turned around, palm in front of him to hold the lawyer at bay. “No offense, Hamilton, but all I want to do right now is have a drink. And maybe a smoke.”

      “I didn’t know you smoked.”

      “I don’t.”

      “I see.” Hamilton gave him a patronizing smile. “We can’t really afford to get complacent right now—”

      “That’s what my father is paying you the big bucks for. So why don’t you go be lawyerly somewhere and I’ll go do what my father thinks I do best—enjoy the fruits of his labor.”

      Hamilton was speechless for once as Rafe put on his sunglasses and pushed open the doors. The reporters waiting outside for their scoop weren’t quick enough to identify him, focused on Hamilton trailing behind, and they mobbed the lawyer as he emerged, expecting him to precede their prey.

      Rafe ducked out of the crowd and made a beeline for the side lot before they caught on. That was probably the last time that trick would work. In his rearview mirror, he saw one of the crews dash for their van to follow him as he pulled out.

      As he drove toward Sedona, he remembered what Phoebe had said about being drawn to the temple when she’d come this way on Saturday. It would be empty today, and taking the private road to the temple grounds through the Covent’s glamour would leave his pursuers wondering how they’d lost him.

      Sure

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