Chapter 171

Zane POV

My study was getting crowded.

Sarah and I were seated directly in front of my desk in separate chairs. Whitfield and Wilson (whom I was starting to call “the Ws” in my head, and I needed to stop that) were seated slightly to our left, with Travis and Rucker on the right. We fit, though rather closely.

There was a seventh person in the room, but Christine Tedley had asked to observe us quietly until it was time for her to be of value, and I respected her efficiency.

Everyone had their own copy of the publicists’ report and was putting notes in the margins as we read it to the end. Whitfield and Wilson finished first, as it was just a refresher review for them, then I, Travis, Sarah, and Rucker finished, and we ended up all looking at each other.

“Impressive,” I said.

“And still a little nuts,” Travis grumbled.

“Only a little?” Wilson asked with a grin.

“It might work,” the agent conceded.

“So, you want to recruit as our online . . .” I looked at Sarah. Perhaps there was a human term for it?

“Lieutenants?” she offered.

I nodded. “Yes, good. That would be Shotz, a human man with every reason to be loyal to Sarah, Melissa Thibodeaux, who has shown loyalty to both Sarah and me, Dr. Hayes, who has become emotionally invested in the girls as their tutor, and Delia Chavez, whom I don’t recognize.”

“She’s the slave we rescued, right?” Sarah asked. “I saw online she’s set up an online support group for victims of abuse.”

“And she’s running the group like a pro,” Wilson said.

“I see.” I looked back down at the report.

“May I nominate another lieutenant?” Sarah asked. “Though they may well not agree.”

“Who?” Whitfield asked.

“Ambassador Torrin and her son, Claude Torrin.”

I looked at her in surprise. “We only met them for a few hours at the memorial after-party, though I admit they were both quite charming and seemed genuine. Are you sure?”

She shrugged a little. “I got nothing but good feelings from them, and they seemed eager to help. Besides, they’re quite well known and influential in Orleans Territory.”

“Why is that good?” Whitfield asked.

“Because everyone else lives in Cavendish, and there’s a very good chance whoever we’re up against it using people outside the territory, especially for hiding people. Besides, Orleans is about as different from Cavendish as you can get without leaving the continent.”

“Claude Torrin is certainly social-media savvy,” Wilson said, her eyes lighting up a little. “But we don’t really have the social standing to be asking the ambassador to work for us.”

“I can ask,” Sarah said. “Or at least, I can see if I can get a read on whether she’d be amenable if Zane asked.”

Everyone considered it for a minute, then started nodding.

“They could be immensely helpful,” Whitfield said, taking ownership of the idea, as he often did, I think unconsciously.

“I’ll see how it goes,” Sarah said, making a note on her copy of the report. The rest of us did the same.

“So, these lieutenants, if we can get them, would be responsible for recruiting people they trust while understanding they need to be careful.” I looked at the publicists. “And you would be vetting their recruits?”

They nodded, but Travis and Rucker leaned forward, both pointing to their copy of the report.

“We want to be a part of that, especially for anyone given a specific assignment,” Rucker said.

Wilson shrugged. “We’d welcome the official help, I’m sure.”

“All right,” I said. “In addition to our online network, we’re going to set up an anonymous tip line on Cavendish.com, and we will not be offering any rewards.”

Everyone nodded. Yes, there was no need to call on the fortune hunters. People were either going to help out of loyalty to my family or to the pack. Money would just complicate things.

“In one day,” I summarized as I looked back at the report, “Travis and Rucker will be offering a list along with photos of whatever evidence they feel they can have in the public domain without jeopardizing any ongoing investigations.” I looked at them. “You’re prepared for that?”

Travis nodded. “Yes, first, it will just be better photos and descriptions of things already out there. Kim’s practically ancient pistol is a place to start; it’s almost a collector’s item. And we will be adding to the evidence as we go.”

“I had a thought about that,” Sarah said. “You’ve been circulating photos of the humans being trafficked at the auction, for those who okayed it, I mean.”

“Yes,” Rucker said.

“I think, no offense to any of you here, that most of the wolves watching the bidding wouldn’t have been looking at the humans’ faces as they were holding up the items, but they might have been looking at the clothing. Many of the humans were wearing quite distinctive outfits. Without traumatizing anyone, if that’s possible, if we could get photos of what they were wearing, that might help.”

Travis and Rucker nodded.

“We could get Delia on that,” Wilson said.

“Good,” I said, nodding at Sarah. “I’ll confess I appreciate the technical pages you’ve given us about pingbacks and rerouting, but I don’t understand much of it.

“I do,” Rucker said, “and it’s solid work to allow us to trace the ‘anonymous’ tips we get at least to a basic IP address and location. It’s good to keep a central document on just what your IT people are doing, and again, I’m thinking we might collaborate on that.”

“We’d welcome the help too,” Rucker said with a little smile.

“So now, it looks like we should look over these preliminary questions you’re thinking to drop on social media under various usernames and hashtags, yes?” I asked.

“Yes,” Whitfield said. “You’ll see all of them do not ask for judgments about guilt or innocence, and we’ve tried to make them sound nosy more than investigative. We won’t be asking for names, only details people may have witnessed, times of day they saw or heard things, rumors that have been going around, that sort of thing.”

“This one asking if any ex-slaves have been contacted by a scammer or another stranger online and this other one about new faces at the mine both concern me,” Travis said.

“Sounds a little too much like a witch hunt?” Sarah asked.

We all looked at her blankly, though from the corner of my eye Teldley seemed more impassive than confused.

“Sorry, old human term,” Sarah said. “Too much like you’re just trying to find someone to pin the blame on?”

“Yes,” Travis said. “I know what a witch was supposed to be, but why would you hunt one?”

“Not to eat them,” Sarah said. “Only to, well, burn them at the stake.”

“Alive, I suppose?” Rucker asked.

Sarah looked uncomfortable, so I suggest we move on and see about revising the questions so they didn’t sound so accusatory. The rest of the questions we agreed seemed fine.

“I’d like to run all these by Delia before we use them,” Wilson said. “She’s the youngest of our lieutenants and the most in touch with others her age.”

“She’s also going to be the most sensitive to being witchhunted,” Whitfield said while aiming what he probably thought was an ingratiating smile aimed at Sarah. She smiled back with neutral politeness, and I silently applauded her instincts. I trusted Whitfield, but he did tend to make friends so he could ask them for favors later.