up the path, ducking beneath the spray of the sprinkler, then reached the porch.
Through the screen door, she saw a fudge-stained face as a four-year-old child looked out at her. The four-year-old was wearing overalls, with one of the straps hanging loose. He had brown streaks, likely from some sort of cookie batter, or maybe a Popsicle, dripping down his cheeks and staining his shoulder.
The child looked through the open screen door at Adele, then turned and began to scream.
Adele coughed slowly and crossed her arms. She waited patiently.
The sound of the screaming child faded as he raced into the house. His thumping footsteps were met by a shout. “Elijah, quiet!”
A few seconds later, a lady in a loose pink shirt emerged. Her hair was streaked with gray, and she stood slightly hunched. She had the boy’s hand gripped in hers, and though she was admonishing him sternly, she also held him tenderly. The boy, despite the words, didn’t seem scared at all.
The old lady in the pink shirt limped over, still hunched. She peered at Adele through the screen.
“Are you with IRS?” she demanded, one of her eyes nearly half closed as if from some sort of allergy.
“No, ma’am, my name is Adele Sharp. I work with the FBI.”
If she had thought the words would impress the lady, she would’ve thought wrong. The lady grunted. “Don’t know anyone with the FBI. What do you want?”
Adele winced. She waved a hand toward the Ring doorbell. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t need to take up much of your time. But that bell, do you think it would be possible for me to look at the footage?”
The lady looked at the bell, then back at Adele. “FBI?”
Adele nodded.
“I don’t rightly think the neighbors would like it much,” the lady said. She held the child’s sticky hand and gently tucked him away behind her leg, as if protecting him. “We’re not really the sort that speak with feds.”
Adele nodded. “I understand. I promise I’m not trying to get any of your neighbors in trouble. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Shoot me straight. What do you want?”
Adele hesitated. She knew it was against protocol to discuss much of the case, especially the details, with a civilian. But the woman, with her half sealed eye, and her slightly bent back, still had a searching look about her. She was studying Adele, and for a moment, Adele felt like if she tried to lie, the woman would see right through it.
“Apologies,” Adele said. “Look, I’m searching for someone who has killed people. Three of them. One in Germany, another in France, and one nearby. Left the latest woman on the road. Drained her,” Adele trailed off quickly, and glanced back toward the little boy.
The woman said, “He doesn’t speak a lick. Slow. Sweet, but slow. Drained of what?”
Adele shrugged. “Blood,” she said, simply.
“Some sort of pervert?”
Adele shook her head. “I don’t know. Definitely some sort. They came from that wine-making shop nearby.”
The woman wrinkled her nose. “Wine is of the devil.”
Adele winced.
But then the lady’s face cracked into a grin. “Just joking with you. I like Moscato. You seem like a nice sort. I’d invite you inside, but I’ve just been vacuuming. If you don’t mind, just wait out front. Anything to drink?”
Adele stared; for a moment, as the lady smiled, she felt like she was about to cry. “No, thank you though,” she said, a flash of gratitude flooding her. “You think it’s okay if I—”
“I’ll bring you the video. I have one of them online doohickeys. Shows the moving pictures and all that stuff.”
Adele hesitated, and the woman laughed again. “Still joking. I know what a video is. Hang tight. I’ll be right there.”
The woman disappeared through a side door; Adele heard the muttered conversation between her and the boy. The woman said, “Head upstairs, and go wash yourself.”
The boy replied, “What?”
“Elijah, head upstairs and go wash yourself.”
The boy replied, “What?”
“Darn it, child, I don’t have time. Go upstairs. Look, see, look what Grandma is doing with her hands. See that? You go do that upstairs.”
“What.”
But this last time, it didn’t sound so much like a question, as an acknowledgment. A few seconds later, Adele saw the fudge-stained child racing through the house and scampering up the steps, moving away.
Adele hid a soft chuckle and waited patiently on the porch. A few moments later, the lady reappeared. In her hand, she had a small iPad. She held it up for Adele. In the other