Lupi 08 - Death Magic

dozed off. Only for a second, but she couldn’t stay awake forever. She should get up and move around, do some stretches or sit-ups or something, wake herself up.
    She would in just a minute. Even though she was probably crazy to think she was in danger. The only threat in the fifteen hours she’d been here had been Bad Teeth, and she’d been after “favors,” not murder. But she’d get up and move around and...
    Her head jerked again.
    One of the guards, a heavyset woman who hadn’t smiled in at least thirty years, came up to the door. “Lily Yu.”
    Lily blinked and stood slowly. “Yes?”
    “Guess you’ve got a good lawyer.” The woman unlocked the cell door.
    The guard didn’t have handcuffs out. “I’m . . . being released?”
    “Own recognizance. Follow me, please.”
    She hadn’t been arraigned, which was when bail would be set, or the judge could decide to let her out on her own recognizance. Yet they were releasing her. Lily shook her head, trying to clear it, and walked out of the cell.
    Being released was nowhere near as humiliating and time-consuming as being admitted to the facilities, but it still took a while. She had to confirm receipt of everything that was returned—her shoes, jacket, necklace, and engagement ring. Her phone. Her purse and all its contents. Her shoulder holster. Her weapon. She got it all back.
    Everything except what mattered most. They couldn’t hand her life back. But then, they hadn’t taken it. She’d tossed it away of her own free will.
    Lily didn’t know if she’d actually serve jail time beyond this one day. Interfering with an investigation was a serious charge, but could be hard and costly to prove; few federal attorneys would be interested in prosecuting any but the most egregious cases. And unless they’d gotten Deborah to change her story, they couldn’t prove Lily had tipped Ruben off. They could strongly suggest it, sure, but a good lawyer could probably keep her out of jail. Any halfway decent prosecutor would know that. Even if Friar was behind this, even if he had a prosecutor in his pocket and was frothing at the mouth to get Lily locked up, odds were she wouldn’t be convicted.
    She didn’t have to be. The fact of her presence at Ruben’s house was enough to get her kicked out of the Bureau.
    She wasn’t a cop anymore.
    Lily walked down the hall a few steps ahead of the heavyset guard, her head light with exhaustion, and felt no relief at all. She tried to at least be curious about her release, but it didn’t seem important. In a minute she’d meet with whatever lawyer had arranged it and he or she would tell her what the situation was.
    She emerged into a small, bare room where another guard waited . . . and another man. The one she’d called, but she’d never expected him to come here. A burly man in dark slacks, a pressed shirt, no tie. With his beard, rusty brown hair, and blacksmith’s chest and shoulders, he looked like a minor forest god in disguise.
    Isen Turner. Rule’s father. The Nokolai Rho. Isen, who almost never left Nokolai Clanhome, and absolutely never left California. Yet here he was, crossing the ugly little room to grab her up in a hug.
    “Lily.” He squeezed her firmly, patted her back, then pulled back enough to smile at her, still holding her arms. “You smell awful. Come. Let’s get out of here.”
     
     
    A fondness for Mercedes-Benz must run in the family. That’s what Isen had waiting for them in the parking lot. Waiting right outside the courthouse door was a stringy, six-foot-eight-inch giant named Pete Murkowski, second-in-command of security at Clanhome. Pete had baby-fine hair the color of old ivory and long, ropy muscles. He looked funny in clothes, Lily thought. She was used to seeing him in cutoffs.
    “Rule,” she said to Rule’s father. “Have you heard from him? Where is he?”
    “He’s remaining wolf, so no. I have talked to Cullen, who’s with Rule and the new wolf. They’re doing well and have arrived at Wythe Clanhome. We’ll discuss that later, when there’s no chance of anyone eavesdropping. It’s unlikely here, but not impossible. You have a nine o’clock appointment tomorrow with your lawyer.”
    “The arraignment.” Lily’s stomach knotted.
    “That’s tomorrow afternoon.” They’d reached the car. Pete gave Lily a nod and a smile as he opened the door for them. “Your lawyer is Miriam Stockard. Perhaps you’ve heard of her? She regrets that she was unable