on, what?”
John snorted. “Nice try. We know it was you.”
Adele, though, wasn’t so convinced. The guy couldn’t have been much older than a teenager. Plus, she’d had Agent Carter check.
“You haven’t left the country in months,” she said.
The kid shrugged. “Have never left the country. That’s not a crime.”
Adele looked at him. “Your van was used in a murder. Who did you loan it to?”
At this, he went very silent. His eyes flicked from Adele to John, and then, in a squeaking voice, he said, “I want to speak to a lawyer.”
Adele glared. “You loaned it to someone, didn’t you? Who?”
He didn’t reply. Adele moved past John, now, looking toward the van, glancing in through the windows.
“Hey,” he retorted, “you can’t do that. You need a warrant! I don’t give permission.”
He jutted out his chin, and his tone had an edge that resonated with the words, So there!
Adele nodded, looking back. “You’re not wrong. I do need a warrant. It’s a shame.”
John looked at her, then looked at the boy. “A downright shame,” he repeated. He then moved toward the back of the van. “You’re not giving permission?” John said.
The boy shook his head firmly.
Agent Renee grunted. “That makes sense. I wouldn’t either if I was guilty.”
“I didn’t kill anybody,” the boy muttered. “Now, about that lawyer…”
John made a big show of stretching and yawning. Then, elbow extended, he slammed it straight through the window in the front of the van. Adele blinked, surprised, and the boy stared. He began to gasp and sputter like a landed fish, and John reached in, muttering, “Oops.”
Adele spotted a stain of blood down the edge of her partner’s elbow, but John didn’t seem to even register it on his pain scale. He reached into the van and unlocked it from the inside, and then pulled open the side door.
“You can’t do that,” the young man shouted, protesting.
“Technically, true,” Adele said. “But also, he’s from France. Warrants are a strange concept.”
John nodded, humming to himself and glancing around the interior. “Why does this whole place stink of ammonia?” he said.
Adele stepped a little closer to the van and winced. She caught a whiff of the pungent odor as well.
“I want to talk to a lawyer,” said the kid, gritting his teeth.
John was now rummaging around the front seat, muttering to himself. “Whole place smells, Adele. Someone cleaned it out. Even if there’s blood here, we’re not going to be able to get a test.”
Adele gritted her teeth. “See anything?” she said, ignoring the boy for now.
John was now leaning across the front seat, avoiding shards of glass. He sniffed a couple more times, and then one of his hands angled beneath the chair, and he began fishing around.
“It’s empty,” he said. “Cleaned out. Whoever this kid is working with—”
“I didn’t do anything!” the boy protested, sounding panicked now.
John withdrew, but then went still.
His elbow was still bleeding, but as he raised his hand, there was a smear of blood across his finger. It was thick, congealed. Not fresh blood. Cold, somehow—it had gotten onto his finger while rummaging beneath the chair.
He held up his hand, showing it to Adele. “That ammonia didn’t get everything,” he said, significantly.
Adele immediately moved toward the boy, turning him sharply and pulling her handcuffs as she did. He tried to protest, but then John came over, and Ken Davis went still, shaking his head and muttering, “This is all a big mistake. It’s all one big mistake.”
“You can tell us downtown,” Adele muttered. “Or you can tell us right here, who did you loan your van to? You haven’t left the country. But someone did. That someone used your van.”
He hesitated, then muttered, “A friend, just to move some stuff. But that’s it. He lost the keys. Someone took them. We just got the van back. Whoever took them must’ve—”
“Shut up,” Adele said. “Fine, don’t tell us. We’ll figure it out later.”
Then she spun the kid around, his hands cuffed, and began pushing him back toward their waiting car.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
It was a scene as familiar as a play she’d rehearsed. Adele sat across the table from their interrogation suspect. John leaned next to her. Agent Carter was taking notes beneath the single security camera above.
Adele shared a look with John, then fixed her gaze back on the small, thin, T-shirt-wearing kid. The black skull shirt didn’t seem so tough anymore. He had a look like a frightened lamb, his eyes wide as they flicked from John to Adele.
“Who