Kitty Takes a Holiday (Kitty Norville 3)

The three of us sat in a small, windowless room, on hard, plastic seats, around a hard, plastic table, saturated with fluorescent lights and the smells of old coffee and tired bodies. Ben had his briefcase open, papers spread in front of us, everything we’d found in New Mexico, everything Espinoza had laid out for us. Cormac read through them all.

“Espinoza will lower the charge to manslaughter in exchange for a guilty plea. Two to six years max. Otherwise, the charge stays first-degree murder and we go to trial. Mandatory life sentence if convicted.” Ben explained it all, then finished, spreading his hands flat on the table, like he was offering himself as part of the evidence.

The silence stretched on forever. No one would look at anyone. We stared at the pages, but they all said the same thing.

Then Cormac said, “We’ll take the plea bargain.”

Immediately Ben countered. “No, we have to fight it. A jury will see it our way. You didn’t do anything wrong. You saved everyone there. We’re not going to let them hang you out to dry.”

Cormac took a deep breath and shook his head. “Espinoza’s right. We all know how this is going to look in court. Everyone may be willing to sit here and talk about skinwalkers and the rest of it, but it won’t hold up in court. The law hasn’t caught up with it yet.”

“Then we’ll make them catch up. We’ll set the precedents—”

Still, he shook his head. “My past’s caught up with me. We knew it would sooner or later. This way, they put me away for a couple years, I get out and keep my nose clean, I’ll get over it. If this guy pins murder one on me, I’ll be in for decades. I’ve taken too many risks. I’ve gambled too much to think I can win this time. Time to cut our losses.”

“Think about it, a felony conviction on your record. Don’t—”

“I can handle it, Ben.”

“I won’t let you do this.”

“It’s my choice. I’ll fire you and make the deal myself.”

Ben bowed his head until he was almost doubled over. His hands closed into fists. Anger—anger made the wolf come to the surface. I half expected claws to burst from his fingers. I didn’t know what we’d do if Ben shifted here, how we’d explain it to the cops. How we’d get him under control.

Ben straightened, letting out a breath he’d been holding.

“Don’t think you have to do some kind of penance because of what happened to me.”

“It’s not about you. If I hadn’t taken that last shot…” He shook his head. “This is about folding a bad hand. Let it go.”

“I feel like I’ve failed.”

“You did the best you could. We both did.”

Ben collected his papers, shoving them into his briefcase, not caring if they bent or ripped. I didn’t know what to do or say; I was almost bursting, wanting to say something that would hold everyone together. That would somehow make this easier. Fat, hairy chance.

Ben said, “The hearing’s in an hour. We’ll enter a guilty plea. The judge will review the case and pass sentence. We’ve got Espinoza’s word, six years max. They try anything funny, we’ll file a complaint, get this switched to another jurisdiction. They’ll be coming to get you in a couple of minutes. Is there anything else? Anything I’ve forgotten? Anything you need?” He looked at his cousin, a desperate pleading in his eyes. He wanted to be able to do more.

“Thanks, Ben. For everything.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Cormac shrugged. “Yeah, you did. Can I talk to Kitty alone for a minute? Before the goons come back.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Gaze down, Ben gathered up his things, threw me a quick glance, and made a beeline out the door.

That left the two of us alone, him in his orange jumpsuit sitting at the table, arms crossed, frowning. His expression hadn’t changed; he still looked emotionless, determined. Though toward what purpose now, I couldn’t guess.

I hugged my knees, my heels propped on the edge of the chair, trying not to cry. And not succeeding.

“What’s wrong?” Cormac said, and it was an odd question coming from him. Wasn’t it obvious? But it was a

n acknowledgment of emotion. He’d noticed. He’d been watching me closely enough to notice, and that fact was somehow thrilling.

Thrilling, to no purpose.

“It’s not fair,” I said. “You don’t deserve this.”