Micah - By Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,33

expert on raising the dead."

Laban, the head attorney for the other side, said, "I think we'll all agree to that. What is the defense's point?"

"If she's an expert witness, then I should be able to question her."

"But she's not giving testimony," the judge said. "She's explaining what she's doing so we'll be able to follow along."

"How is that different from collecting any other evidence?" Salvia said. "If she were any other expert, I would be allowed to question her methodology."

I had to give it to him, he was making a point. A point that could keep us here for hours.

"Your honor," I said, "may I ask Mr. Salvia a question?"

The judge gave me his long, considering look, then nodded. "I'll allow it."

I looked at the lawyer. He wasn't that much taller than me, but he stood straight for every inch of it. So did I, but his stance was more aggressive, as if he were squaring himself for an attack. I guess in a way he was.

I'd testified in court a few times when a lawyer got clever and tried to win an appeal on a zombie who had said this will is real, not this one. I'd even been called into court for an insurance company that decided to appeal the zombie's testimony on the grounds that the dead were not competent to give testimony. I'd stopped getting dragged into court to defend myself after I'd offered to bring the zombie into court to give open court testimony. The offer was accepted. And that was back in the days when my zombies actually looked more like the shambling dead than a person.

We'd all made the papers, and the media had made much of the fact that the mean of company had traumatized the family a second time. In fact, it had been the beginning of a countersuit for mental distress. The insurance company would eventually pay more in the second suit than in the original life insurance claim. Everyone learned their lesson, and I got to stay in the cemetery and out of the courtroom. But I'd spent weeks being drilled with the argument that I was not a true forensic expert. Salvia was about to hear me spit that argument back at him.

"Mr. Salvia, would you say that most evidence is open to interpretation depending on which expert you get to interpret that evidence?"

He considered that for a moment. Most lawyers won't answer questions fast, especially not in court. They want to think it through first. "I would agree with that statement."

"If I was here to collect DNA or some other physical evidence, my actions might be open to scrutiny, because my method of collection could impact how reliable my evidence was, correct?"

Micah gave me a look. I shrugged at him. I could talk lawyer-speak up to a point, in a good cause. Getting us out of here before five a.m. was a good cause.

Salvia finally answered a cautious "I would agree. Which is why I need to question your methods, so I can understand them well enough to represent my client."

"But, Mr. Salvia, what I'm about to do is not open to interpretation of any kind."

He turned to the judge. "Your honor, she is refusing to explain her methods. If I don't understand what the marshal is doing, then how will I be able to adequately defend my client?"

"Marshal Blake," the judge said, "I'm sorry that I opened this issue with my request for information, but I can see the defense's point."

"For most experts, I would see his point, too, your honor, but may I make one more point before you rule on whether the defense gets to question my every move?"

"I won't allow him to question your every move, Marshal," he said with a smile that even by moonlight seemed self-satisfied. Or maybe I was just watching the entire night go up in questions, and that was making me grumpy. I'd never had to raise the dead while being questioned by hostile lawyers. It didn't sound like a fun evening. "But I will allow you to make your point."

"If I raise Emmett Rose from the dead tonight, you'll be here to see it, right?"

"Are you speaking to me, Marshal Blake?" asked the defense lawyer.

"Yes, Mr. Salvia, I am speaking to you." I fought to keep the impatience out of my voice.

"Could you repeat the question?" he asked.

I repeated it, then added, "If I fail to raise Emmett Rose from the dead tonight, you'll be here to