The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

leaving you three ahead. By the time I got to him, he was dead."
    "Son of a bitch."
    "That's right." Maxim reiterated the question to emphasize how ridiculous it sounded. "So this man, the victim who got stabbed, also incorrectly identified you as his attacker and gave you chase?"
    The suspect's cuffs rattled against the steel bar as he pulled his hands to lean back. Diego looked up at the ceiling and slowly shook his head in wonder. "I don't know. I didn't think that dude was getting up."
    Maxim had caught the man off guard and hoped to leave him scrambling to regain his footing. People were usually more honest when they weren't in control. A nudge here, a shove there, and Diego would slip up. He'd already practically admitted to witnessing the stabbing.
    "You see, Diego, there's something that confuses me. I keep going over it again and again in my head." Maxim stood up and flipped his chair around, holding the plastic back in front of him as he straddled it and sat down again, assuming a more aggressive posture.
    "The three of you were ahead of me when you crashed. Those two upstairs, they sustained broken bones and got cut up pretty bad.
    "But you..." Maxim stressed the words as the prisoner once again focused on him, unsure of where he was being led. Maxim thought it a good sign that he commanded the man's attention and let the words hang in the air for a moment longer before continuing. "Besides a few minor scrapes not even worth mentioning, you were miraculously unharmed in the accident."
    Diego leaned forward and reached for the detective's phone, fumbling to turn it on, frustration slowly marring his cool. Maxim stared into the man's eyes with a fierce intensity, enjoying the hunt. As the screen lit up and illuminated the prisoner's face with cold light, the detective didn't waver his gaze. After a moment, Maxim grabbed his phone from Diego's hands and put it back into his pocket without even looking at it.
    Maxim wouldn't be seeing any werewolves tonight. He knew what this was about now—the prisoner was stalling for time.
    "If those bikers were chasing you, then you would've been the first to hit the spikes and go down. Do you know why you didn't get hurt in the accident, Diego?"
    The man scowled as he got angry at Maxim's inference. He stood up and pushed forward against the chains defiantly. Still, despite the hostile display, Diego made no move to attack the detective. Nor, noticeably, had any words escaped his lips to defend himself.
    Not to be outdone by dramatics, Maxim jumped backwards out of his seat and kicked his chair to the side. It skipped against the tiles and bounced harmlessly off the two way mirror, ringing loudly through what Maxim knew was the entire first floor. Maxim stepped forward to meet Diego's stance.
    "The reason you didn't hit the spikes, Diego, is because you were behind the other two bikers on the road!" The man's eyes pressed into a cold stare as Maxim kept pounding on the point. "You saw them hit the strips and wipe out, so you laid your bike down to avoid the accident! You were chasing them, Diego. That's why your bike was okay! That's why the tires weren't shredded! That's why you weren't hurt!"
    Diego rocked from side to side nervously. Maxim didn't let up.
    "You stabbed the man, Diego, didn't you? And you attacked the other two. That's why they ran from you."
    "Damn it, Maxim!" Diego lashed out as if he was familiar, even comfortable, with conflict. "What do you think is going on here?" The man's shoulders heaved up and down as he panted hard. He was getting worked up again, either because of the adrenaline of the interrogation or because all the events of the night were finally catching up with him. "What do you think is happening in Sycamore?"
    The two men stared at each other in silence. Maxim was unsure how to respond, but he was done with the supernatural theories. Seeing was believing—not stories, not talk.
    The detective thought he heard some murmuring on the other side