Read Online The Immortals by J.T. Ellison - Free Book Online Page B

into a small clearing. Max had done his job and landed the suspect, had his strong jaw clamped around the man’s leg. Officers converged from all sides, Maglites focused on their suspect, weapons drawn. Simari called Max off with a command in German. He whined, but released the suspect’s jeans from his mouth, trotted back to his master with a satisfied air. Simari always fed Max a bloody, raw steak when he had a successful takedown; the German shepherd would be rewarded fully tonight.
    Their suspect was moaning, holding his leg like it had been amputated high across his thigh. Taylor approached him carefully, but quickly saw that he was, indeed, down for the count. Blood pooled beneath his torn jeans. Max had taken a decent chunk of flesh out of the man’s leg.
    No, it wasn’t a man. The flashlights showed a smooth, round face. This was a boy, Caucasian, no more than thirteen or fourteen. Short for his age, it seemed.
    The adrenaline was leaking away; everyone was giddy, joking and laughing. People began to disappear off into thenight, back to their cars, back to the multiple crime scenes they’d been pulled away from.
    â€œHope that was worth it,” she heard one officer grumble.
    No kidding. Taylor let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as Marcus snapped cuffs on the boy.
    Taylor Mirandized him, mentally cursing the new laws that forced her to do so immediately in order to question anyone suspect in the commission of a crime, then asked, “What’s your name?”
    He just shook his head, looked down at his leg.
    â€œI need a doctor,” he said in a surprisingly deep voice.
    â€œWhat’s your name first?”
    He shook his head.
    â€œOkay, anonymous. We’ll call an ambulance and have you transferred, but without a name, there isn’t a hospital in the city that will treat you. They don’t give it away for free, you know. They’ll need to call your parents to get payment. Sure would be a shame to lose a leg just because you want to play hardball with me.”
    The boy went whiter than the Maglite’s beam. He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “My last name is Edvin. My first name is Juri.”
    â€œLike a jury of your peers?”
    â€œNo,” he said.
    â€œSpell it.”
    â€œ J-U-R-I. It’s Finnish.”
    â€œWhere do you live?”
    He squinted at her, she didn’t know if it was from pain or the Maglites pointed at him. “On Granny White Pike, near Lipscomb University,” he said at last.
    â€œWe need to inform your parents.”
    The whites of his eyes flashed and he started to struggle again. Taylor pressed her arm across his chest, applied enough pressure that he couldn’t move without a real fight.
    â€œStop that. Give me your telephone number so I can contact them, right now.”
    He narrowed his eyes at her, then mumbled sevennumbers. Taylor memorized them, then let up the pressure. She signaled for the EMTs to come in. They worked quickly, cutting away the torn jeans to show an impressive row of deep punctures, placing a compression pad against the seeping wound, efficiently tying the boy to the stretcher.
    â€œDid you struggle when the dog bit you?” one of the EMTs asked.
    â€œYeah,” Edvin mumbled. “I tried to get away. Did I hurt the dog? I punched it in the mouth when it bit me.”
    Taylor hid a smile. Max was tough, and in the throes of a kill probably hadn’t noticed an ineffectual punch thrown by a scared kid.
    â€œHe’ll be fine,” she said. “Why did you run from us?”
    The boy was chatty now that his big scare had passed.
    â€œYou’re cops. What else would I do?”
    â€œStop when I said stop, for starters. What were you doing at the Carson house?”
    â€œWhose house?” But his eyes slid away, down and to the left, and Taylor knew he was lying.
    â€œLet’s try that again. You were at the Carson