Spirit Animals (Ritual Crime Unit Book 3) by E. E. Richardson Read Free Book Online Page B

favour.
    Assuming they were prepared to bargain at all. Tate hadn’t proved an easy nut to crack so far; she could only hope that by now he’d undergone some softening as it sank in that he was likely to be in here for a very long time, and his former allies didn’t seem too fussed about hastening his release. Six weeks on the inside stretched an awful lot longer than it did in the outside world.
    And even if Tate was a true fanatic for the cause, being deprived of his enchanted pelt would surely be taking its toll. Certain types of magic could be pretty addictive—and addicts, as a rule, didn’t stay loyal for long to anyone who couldn’t get them their fix.
    “I’m afraid if you refuse to speak even in your defence, you’re definitely not going to be leaving this place any time soon,” she said. “We have you caught red-handed on possession of a class two restricted artefact, shapeshifting without a licence, and attempted murder—and unless you’re prepared to provide evidence that proves otherwise, then you’re still in the frame for at least one other murder carried out by a panther shifter in the vicinity. You prepared to give us information on any other shifters you know of that could potentially clear your name?”
    Pierce raised her eyebrows enquiringly, but unsurprisingly, the possibility of reexamining a charge he was almost certainly guilty of anyway didn’t make for much of a carrot. Since she certainly wasn’t about to dangle an impossible offer of early release or transfer to a regular prison, there was little she could promise in return for his cooperation.
    He was still pretending absolute indifference to the fact she was even speaking—and she was still sure that he understood every word she said. But even if she was trying to persuade the man, her best route in might be appealing to the animal.
    “No? Then you’re going to be in here for the long haul, I’m afraid,” she said. “Might be a good time to start thinking about creature comforts. I’m sure you’d appreciate more exercise time—a chance to go outside, get some air.” She sat back to stretch, glancing around pointedly at the bare walls. “What do they feed you in this place? Getting enough meat? Maybe if you work with us, something could be arranged.”
    The prisoner said nothing, but he bared his teeth in a silent snarl, rattling his cuffs. Beside her Leo subtly shifted, as if reaching to check on the firearm that he no longer carried.
    Time to bring him in on things and see if the stick was any more effective than the carrot. Even unarmed and far below strength, Leo was remarkably good at exuding a sense of quiet threat.
    “Perhaps you recognise Mr Grey here,” Pierce said, tilting her head towards Leo. “Or maybe you don’t, if you weren’t quite as high up in your bosses’ confidence as you think. He’s been involved in our investigation from the start, and he’s helped bring some very interesting information to light.” All technically true statements, if misleadingly assembled. Now for the big push. She sat forward, folding her arms on the table.
    “We know your panther pelt was made by a man who calls himself Sebastian. We know it was made considerably more recently than should have been possible, given that he’s supposed to be dead. And we know that makes you a liability to the people that you’re working for, with that tattoo still on your shoulders. You think there aren’t techniques to prove who gave you that tattoo and when? Rituals that will prove that you had contact with Sebastian after his apparent death?”
    She was bluffing, but the odds were there was something to find, if they dug deep enough. It was an avenue of investigation, but a slow and risky one: cooperation from Tate had much higher odds of netting them the bigger prize.
    And maybe she was actually starting to get through; he was looking steadily more twitchy. “Now, maybe you’re feeling pretty confident in here, and fair