marijuana in his gym bag last year. He is never coming home at night. And now he is seeing some little wijfje who glares at me when she comes over. They go into his room and he blocks the door. When I tried to stop them last week, he hit me. He has not been home since.”
“Did you report him missing?”
They shook their heads. “He’s done this before,” Mr. Edvin said. “We think moving back to Finland is a good idea, but he raised such a fuss we must back away. He says he’ll kill us in our sleep before he lets us take him. We lock our door at night, afraid he means to murder us. We don’t know what happened to our boy.”
“Do you know his friend’s name?”
“He calls her Ember. We don’t know her whole name. She brings him the makeup, and they dress like ghouls and run around downtown. We have no more control of him than we do the wind.”
That was as apt a description of a troubled young man as she’d ever heard.
“Will you allow me to question him?” Technically, she didn’t need their permission, but parents usually lawyered up their kids the moment they realized they were in real trouble. She held her breath-she thought she had them, but she never knew. The Edvins looked at one another. She could see the conversation going on in their silent gazes. Finally, Mr. Edvin pulled away from his wife.
“Yes. You may talk to him. We would like to be there, too.”
“Okay. But I may need to ask you to step out if he won’t talk to me with you in the room. Let’s go.”
She led them back to their son’s room. The patrol stood when he saw them barreling down on him. Taylor motioned for him to join them.
“Come in and witness for me, okay?”
The patrol set down his magazine, silent as the grave. She’d met him before, once or twice, a man named Rob, quietly suspicious of his female fellow officers, but efficient and solid. He opened the door for them. Taylor let the Edvins go first.
Juri Edvin’s eyes were open, glazed, but he recognized Taylor. With no place to go, he shrugged and turned his head to face the window. If he saw his parents, he gave no indication at all.
“Juri, we need to talk,” Taylor said, pulling a chair closer to the bed. She was damned tired, and the idea of sitting was most welcome. She hoped it would disarm the boy too, looming over him would remind him of her authority. If they were eye to eye, he might relax a bit. The chair screeched on the linoleum floor, the shriek making a chill run up Taylor’s spine.
“So talk,” Edvin said, still facing away. He sounded groggy, but coherent enough.
“You are quite the little smart-ass, aren’t you? Okay then, I’ll talk. Tell me why they call you Thorn.”
She had him. His eyes popped open, the whites flaring. He started to struggle, quickly realized he had no strength and nowhere to go. He collapsed back against the pillow.
“So you’re the dealer, huh? I’ve heard all about you. Why’d you kill them, Juri?”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” he said, hot tears starting to course down his face. “I have no reason to kill anyone. Mama. Papa. Help me!”
Juri had obviously never heard the tale of the boy who cried wolf. Taylor was impressed by the Edvins-they stood their ground. His father set his shoulders a little straighter.
“You must tell the lieutenant what she needs to know, Juri. If you have done something wrong, you must answer for it. We’ve always tried to teach you that.”
“Oh, fuck off, you freaks.”
Mrs. Edvin began to cry. Taylor barely resisted the urge to slap the boy. She turned to them.
“Maybe it would be better if we talked without you for now.”
Mr. Edvin met her eyes, bleak and hopeless. “Maybe.”
Juri became incensed. “You can’t just leave me with the cops. What kind of parents are you? You’re supposed to love me, and you throw me to the wolves instead? Thanks a whole hell of a lot.”
Taylor popped out of her chair and grabbed ahold of Mr. Edvin before he could cross the room and strike his son. She propelled them toward the door.
“Go,” she said. “I’ll come find you when we’re done here.”
The two left, the soles of their sneakers the only noise to compete with Juri’s snuffled whimpers.
Taylor took a deep breath, turned back to the bed. She heard a squeak behind her, glanced over her shoulder at the noise.
The door to Juri’s room slid open. A small girl, pale, with wide, liner-blackened eyes, slipped inside, closing it carefully behind her. She glanced back out the door, then whispered, “Thorn, your parents are gone, and the guard left. We can go now.”
She turned and saw Taylor, jumped and screamed. The patrol grabbed her by the arm. She spit and snarled, sank her teeth into his hand. He yelled and let go. The girl took the opportunity to scram, throwing open the door and bolting down the hall toward the stairwell.
Taylor shouted, “Stay here,” to the patrol and took off after her.
The girl was quick, athletic, built like a fireplug, or a gymnast. She was a powerful runner. She made it all the way to the stairwell, threw open the door. She miscalculated-instead of continuing to run, she tried to pull the door closed behind her. Taylor burst through the door, knocking the girl over. She scrambled to her feet and headed down the stairs. She made it down a whole flight before Taylor, longer legs making up precious time, caught her. She grabbed a fistful of the girl’s hair and yanked, drawing her up short like a wild horse. She was breathing heavily, struggling. Taylor clamped another hand down on her shoulder, spun her and slapped cuffs around her wrist.
“Bitch,” the girl screamed.
“Nice to meet you, too. What’s your name?”
“Fuck off.”
Taylor was getting sick and damn tired of being told nasty things by children. She was so much bigger, it took nothing at all to pin the girl to the wall.
“Listen to me, you little brat. You’ll show me some respect or I’ll haul your ass to jail. Get it?”
“You can’t arrest me. I’m a minor.”
Taylor laughed. “Watch me.”
She hauled the girl by the arm up the stairs and back into the hallway. She thumbed her radio as she strode down the hall, dragging the struggling girl behind her. “Dispatch, I need backup, my location. Vanderbilt surgical floor. I need to transport a prisoner.”
“You can’t do that. I didn’t do anything,” the girl screamed. “I want my parents.”
“Oh, we’ll get your parents, sugar. Though you’d be better off talking to me right now. For all I know, you’ve done nothing wrong except try to come see your boyfriend. I do assume Juri is your boyfriend, right?”
They were at the Family Room now, and Taylor opened the door, pushed the girl through. The Edvins weren’t in the room. Good. She sat the girl on the couch, arms stuck awkwardly behind her, and glared at her. The girl wasn’t stupid-she could see she was beaten. She’d have to go through Taylor to get away, and with the handcuffs… She sagged back into the couch and pursed her lips.
Taylor crossed her arms across her chest, leaned against the door.
“Is Juri your boyfriend?”
Silence.
“Answer me, damn it. I’m not in the mood for games.”
The girl was pretty in a sullen, troubled way, her lips overfull right at the top center, making them overtly lush, freckles sprinkled across her forehead and cheeks. She was fighting tears.
“His name is Thorn,” she said finally, somewhat mollified. “And yes, he is my mate.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Where were you two planning to go?”
The voice was stronger now. “Anywhere but here. Away. We need to go away. It’s not safe.”
“Safe from whom?”
The girl’s eyes flashed, but her lips stayed together. Okay. Taylor tried again.
“What did Juri have to do with the murders in Green Hills last night? And what’s your role in all of this? If you were involved, in any way, you’ll pay just as dearly as if you wielded the drugs or the knife yourself.”
“I had nothing to do with it. Nothing. Neither did Thorn. He was with me the entire night.”
“Really? He wasn’t with you when I chased him through the woods. Let’s try that again. Where were you last night?”
