Free Blood Debt (Judah Black Novels Book 2) by E.A. Copen

get Reed to crack and give me more information, a tracking spell was my only lead to finding Zoe’s baby.
    I left the drawer closed and went to collect my papers. Reed would see reason this time. He had to.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
     
    After grabbing all my things from the printer, I went down the hall to the briefing room. It was one of the nicer rooms in the station because it didn’t see much use. A large rectangular table surrounded by high-backed leather chairs took up most of the room. Large floor to ceiling windows on one wall made up for the cramped space, and all the natural lighting made the room seem bigger. There was a telephone in there for conference calls, but I didn’t think it’d ever been used. A projector box hung from the ceiling, ready to throw its images onto a whiteboard. I didn’t have a presentation or anything fancy, so I left the laptop in my office and decided to rely on the papers I’d printed out. Sometimes, simpler is better.
    By the time I arrived, most of the team had already beaten me there. Daphne Petersen, the mental health professional I’d asked for, gave me a slight nod, pushing her plump cheeks up into a smile. She was a member of Sal’s pack and a student pursuing her master’s degree in chemical dependency. This wasn’t a drug case and she wasn’t a licensed psychotherapist or criminologist, but I trusted her implicitly. The Silvermoon pack had always been good to me and my family. She would also have the training needed to talk to Sven.
    Next to her stood Morris Quincy, Tindall’s longtime partner. He was an apple shaped guy, an honest to God, gun-toting, steak-loving Texan and proud of it. He tipped his plastic cowboy hat to me and flashed a smile, adjusting the bolo he wore in place of a tie over his white button down. A lotto scratch off card was sticking out of his shirt pocket.
    Two uniformed officers, Jenkins and Galloway, stood in the corner with Tindall, all three sipping at their coffees. Father Gideon Reed wasn’t there.
    In a hopeful tone, I asked Tindall, “Did you call Reed?”
    “I left a message on his machine,” Tindall said. “He didn’t pick up.”
    Dammit. Strike one for the home team.
    I went to the head of the table with my stack of papers. “Well, can we get started, then?”
    Everyone took their seats and I passed out the papers. The conference room door jerked open. All six of us looked up as Gideon Reed stepped in. Broad shouldered with the build of a pro-athlete, he kept his auburn hair trimmed and styled above the ears. It somehow gave him an innocent yet powerful look. Instead of the black cassock I’d often seen him wearing before, he’d donned a pair of blue jeans, long-sleeved black button up and, of course, the stiff white clerical collar.
    He didn’t hesitate at the door or wait to be invited in, not even against the glares of everyone else in the room. Reed just slid in and sat in the first empty chair, the one closest to the door.
    “Better late than never,” Quincy mumbled.
    “Welcome, Father,” I said in my most professional voice as I stepped around the table to offer him a paper personally. He said nothing as he took it. Awkward silence filled the room as I made my way back to the front.
    “Okay,” I said once there. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the news about the murder in Eden. I’ve taken over the case looking for the killer. That’s going to go a lot faster and a lot smoother the more hands I have on deck and the more boots I’ve got on the ground. That’s why you’re here. I’m hoping at the end of this meeting you’ll make yourselves available to participate in a task force to help me put this case to bed fast and easy.”
    I raised a copy of the paper I’d passed around. “The paper in front of you is a dossier on one of the victims, Harold Hardrata, AKA Harold Continelli. He’s one of two things that make this case special. How many of you are familiar with the structure