"Mercedes Lackey - Urban Fantasies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

Home. Once upon a time, that had meant something better than an abandoned office building in
downtown Hollywood. She thought about what the policewoman had said about calling her parents and
fought back the sudden tears that threatened to -escape from her eyes.

I wish you could call my folks, lady,she thought.I just wish you could.



Elizabet Winters set down the case folder, rubbing at her eyes with a tired hand. Too many blank pages
left to fill out . . . the file on that last runaway child would keep her here for -another hour, when all she
wanted to do was go home and get some sleep. At least there'd been a happy ending to that story, unlike
most of them. She and Lieutenant Simmons had escorted the boy to the LAX airport, where she'd seen
him off on the midnight plane to Chicago, knowing that the boy's anxious parents were waiting for him on
the other end of the line.

Sometimes these things worked out.

Sometimes they didn't. Elizabet didn't want to think about Marie, a lovely sixteen-year-old who'd been
brought in to the station for child prostitution at least five times. The last time, they'd taken her to the
county morgue instead, with five knife wounds in her. No suspects in that case yet, and Elizabet doubted
they'd ever find any.

“Hey, Elizabet, you got a minute? I need some help.”

Elizabet looked up, to see Nichelle Cable from Detective Headquarters Division. Nichelle looked just as
tired as Elizabet felt. “What's up?”

“I have a girl who witnessed a double homicide tonight on Sunset Boulevard. I didn't think there was
anything unusual about her until she gave me this.” Nichelle held up the witness identification form and
pointed at Line 2.

“So, she lives on Hollywood Boulevard? What's strange about that?” Elizabet asked.

“I wouldn't have thought anything was weird about it, except that when I was in high school, I worked in
a particular movie theater for a few months. This girl gave me the address of Mann's Chinese Theater.”
Nichelle smiled. “I ran her name through the runaway database, and it came up cherries. Kayla Smith,
state ward. She's been in Juvie twice for shoplifting and is currently -reported missing from a foster home
in Orange County. She ran away two months ago. God knows what she's been doing since.” The
homicide detective dropped the form on Elizabet's desk. “She's all yours, Elizabet.”

“Thanks,” Elizabet said with a wry smile. “Anything else I should know about this child?”

“She's bright and obviously thinks fast on her feet. Doesn't look like she does drugs, though she's
wearing a half-trashed denim jacket that would cover any tracks. No terminal case of the sniffles or
jitters, anyhow, so I doubt she's a crackhead. Maybe you can do something for this one.”

“Maybe.” Elizabet stuffed the case folder in her briefcase. “Is she in a holding room or one of the
offices?”

“Simmons' office. There's still some fresh coffee in there, if you need it.” Nichelle yawned and stretched,