The Green Children: A Sycamore Moon Novel (Sycamore Moon Series Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

stopped outside his personal car, an Audi TT coupe. "The reporters can wait until we have a bead on this. A 'no comment' should do for now."
    "It will not, Detective. I've already scheduled the press conference. It's in half an hour."
    "What?" Maxim thrust his head into his hand. "Annabelle's barely said ten words to us. I just now talked to the mother. This case is only a few hours old."
    "Perhaps Annabelle's involvement is, but Hazel Cunningham already has traction countywide. This is a hot button in the community right now. An Easter weekend tragedy. The discovery of Annabelle Hayes only makes this more newsworthy."
    Maxim grimaced. "Can't we let Coconino handle the press for now?"
    "This isn't just a county concern any longer. Now that the Sanctuary Marshal's Office is involved, we need to put a face on it. We need to let the public know that our office is doing everything it can for our children."
    It made perfect sense. Marshal Boyd was a politician. Managing appearances for his father the mayor was his primary concern. Sometimes Maxim feared it was more important to the man than solving the crimes, that the semblance of preserving the peace trumped actual peacekeeping.
    "So you want a two-minute fluff job. 'The marshal's office is putting its full weight behind this.' That sort of thing."
    Boyd didn't answer immediately. He lived in a world of bullshit, comfortably padded by its confines. Stripping it away made him feel naked.
    "Yes."
    "Fine. But I need to keep it quick. Wrapping up Annabelle's involvement will be a piece of cake, but it isn't the only matter here. Hazel Cunningham is still out there."
    "I am confident you can manage," returned Marshal Boyd. "You're my best detective."
    Maxim snorted. "I'm your only detective." Then he hung up the phone.

 
     
    Chapter 9

     
     

    Diego sat on his bed wearing nothing but an old pair of jeans. He leaned forward, elbows on tattered knees, fists clamped together in front of his face, waiting in silence.

    It was a meager apartment, barren of all the little things that made life a joy. Devoid of color and personality save for a single picture of his sister Angelica; to Diego, the space was just a few rooms with a kitchen and a bed.
    It suited him because he hated being cooped up inside. Riding his motorcycle on the open road was his thrill, his escape from the ordinary. Now, that's what his life was. Ordinary.
    Diego had been awake for a while, but his thoughts paralyzed him. A series of wild memories had turned into a series of dead-end jobs. Leaving the service, abandoning Detroit, landing in Sanctuary—it all seemed so far away now. Worse, it all seemed so pointless.
    It wasn't easy to think about, but he forced himself. So he sat there, unmoving. Taking stock.
    Diego knew he was on the edge of something. He knew he had a choice. Julia Cunningham needed him. He'd promised he would help her. But even if he kept to his intentions, he wondered what good they were.
    He swiped his phone from the nightstand and dialed Maxim. After a few rings it went to voicemail, and he slammed the phone down in disgust.
    Diego hopped to his feet and nervously paced the room. This wasn't him. Mulling over options.
    Thinking.
    That realization gave him a chuckle. The biker was at his best when he simply acted. He often paid the price for his rash decisions, but at least the pot got stirred. At least he took action.
    So why did he doubt himself now?
    He trudged to the living room and flipped the TV to the local news.
    Diego jumped when he heard a knock on his door. His alarm turned to excitement and he hurried to answer. To find more answers. To see a clear path.
    Still not fully dressed, he swung the door open to see Henriette glowering at him.
    She was a cold woman, in her fifties, with buzzed gray hair. She spoke deliberately, as if to assert her superiority. "Rent's late after the third," she said sternly.
    Diego sneered. Henriette wasn't the problem, but she wasn't the solution he'd