Free The Promise: An Elvis Cole and Joe Pike Novel by Robert Crais Page A

you think he was getting away?”
    This was a new question. Scott searched his memory, and shook his head.
    “No. It just occurred to me, is all. No one was covering the front.”
    Carter nodded.
    “Okay. So you ran to the front, and saw Mr. Cole.”
    “Yeah. Couldn’t miss him. He was in the middle of the street.”
    “Did you see him get out of a car?”
    “I didn’t see where he came from. I looked, and here was this guy in the street with some coppers chasing him.”
    Stiles arched her eyebrows again.
    “Last night, you said you were watching the suspect.”
    “Cole shouted. It could have been Alvin, but I’m pretty sure it was Cole.”
    Carter pooched out his lips, thinking.
    “Uh-huh.”
    Stiles said, “So Mr. Cole shouted, you looked, and he was running at you?”
    “Not
at
me. I wasn’t in the street, but yeah, he was running in my direction.”
    Carter’s phone buzzed again, and he frowned at the incoming message. He turned away to respond, and Stiles cocked her head, curious.
    “Why didn’t you sic your dog on him?”
    Scott smiled. Releasing a police K-9 was an action controlled by the rules and requirements outlined in the LAPD Guidelines, no different than firing a weapon.
    “It isn’t that simple. Alvin was right behind him.”
    “Not Cole. The suspect. You were closest. You saw him run off down the street.”
    “Across the street and between the houses. I called it in.”
    “That’s right. Was he too far away?”
    Scott wondered if she was implying a failure on his part, but decided her questions were innocent.
    “Etana was still inside. Officers were in pursuit, so I opted to join my partners. Better a dog goes first, than a man.”
    Stiles nodded, and seemed satisfied.
    “I saw you and Mr. Cole talking. What was that about?”
    “Last night?”
    “In the hall here. When we released him.”
    Scott was annoyed she asked about Cole, and glanced at his watch again.
    “I told him he was stupid for chasing a suspect. I almost shot him.”
    Stiles laughed.
    “Uh-huh. And what did Mr. Cole say to
that
?”
    “He thanked me for not shooting him.”
    “That’s it?”
    “Yeah, pretty much. He’s one of those guys, thinks he’s funny.”
    “Don’t they all?”
    Carter finished his text, and abruptly offered his hand.
    “That’s all for now, Scott. Thanks for hanging in. Go give your dog a biscuit.”
    “We’re done?”
    “Until we have more questions.”
    Stiles gestured toward the door.
    “And we
always
have more questions. I’ll be in touch about the mug shots.”
    Scott hurried out to the elevator. He was tired, hungry, and wanted to sleep, but his concern for Maggie overshadowed everything else. He phoned Budress on the ride down to ask about her.
    “She’s fine. I checked her, and Leland checked her, too. They cut you free?”
    “Yeah. Listen, the fumes in the house were bleach and ammonia. We won’t know about toxins or chemical agents for a couple of days.”
    “Dude. She’s good. Relax.”
    Budress had been a K-9 handler for sixteen years. He had a lifetime of experience.
    “She is?”
    “Yeah. She’s fine. Come see for yourself.”
    Scott felt better after talking to Budress. He didn’t think about Stiles and her question again until he reached his car, and then it began to bother him.

11
    Maggie
    USMC
M
ILITARY
W
ORKING
D
OG
Maggie T415 finds herself standing on a dusty road in the central provinces of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan. The mid-morning sun is so harsh the Marines surrounding her hide their eyes with sunglasses. Maggie, who stands with her Marine
K-9
handler, Pete, does not know she is a military working dog. She does not know her serial number, T415, is tattooed inside her left ear or that she is in Afghanistan or the men around her are Marines. She is a German shepherd dog. She knows what she needs to know. Her name is Maggie, she and Pete are pack, and Pete is currently pouring water onto her head and back. In her dream, Maggie does