Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,24

kids. Are they all international? Of those names you mentioned, not all of them are German.”

“Only Catherine Waters is German,” said Ms. Schroeder. For the first time she uncrossed her arms, and her hands twisted at the front of her apron.

Adele glanced through the open doorway into the house. She saw movement for the first time. A couple of people were in the kitchen, trying to get a look at those in the door.

Ms. Schroeder seemed to notice the attention. She didn’t try to interrupt it, nor did she try to move to block anyone’s view. But her expression of disapproval only increased, directed toward John and Adele.

“Like I said, my tenants are here for a certain way of life. They don’t enjoy the presence of people in your line of work.”

“Federal agents?”

“Authority,” said Ms. Schroeder. “Everyone here is equal. Those badges will matter to some, not to others.”

Adele sniffed. “These are college kids, yes?”

“Some. But there are others that prefer the lifestyle. They like the forests. They like leaving things behind. Many of them don’t even have cars. There are currently five people staying here, two of them hitchhiked.”

Adele raised an eyebrow. “There’s a few cars in the drive. Did no one come with someone else?”

Ms. Schroeder said, “Many of them travel alone. It’s part of the appeal of the experience. Minimalist living, isolation, quiet. Getting in touch with yourself.” She shrugged. “As for those names, yes, all four of them stayed here.”

Adele frowned. “That’s what our records showed too. I’m sorry to say, but all four of those names are of people who have gone missing.”

Ms. Schroeder blinked, her expression of disapproval fading and transitioning for a moment to one of surprise, and then a flash of grief. “All of them?” She sighed and crossed her arms again. A defensive posture. “Well, I can assure you it’s not anything to do with my place. It is worth knowing the sorts of people who come through here are free spirits. Perhaps there’s a chance they simply are still living off-grid.”

Adele shook her head. “Most of those names are college kids. Missing. Haven’t contacted their parents in months. It’s out of ordinary. One of them, Catherine, has been missing for more than a year.”

Ms. Schroeder passed a hand through her hair, streaking flour once more.

“Look,” said Adele, “you don’t remember them, do you?”

“Like I said, this is a family. But it’s a large one. During summers, I have as many as two hundred tenants come through. During winter, it’s a bit less, but not that much. Maybe a hundred. There are some repeat customers, but not many. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep track of everyone. It’s why I keep the registry. I have names and phone numbers. But that’s about it.”

Adele whistled softly. “That many clients?”

Ms. Schroeder shrugged. “What can I say, this place has a bit of a reputation my sister and I have worked hard to build. A lot of the people call it an oasis. Like I said, a launching pad.”

“For those who want to live this lifestyle. Got it.”

Adele glanced back toward the parked vehicles. One of them was a normal sedan with tinted windows. The others, though, were larger. Vans, one SUV. Also with tinted windows. The van had a sun sheath over the front windshield. Small, magnetic curtains had been attached within the SUV windows.

“They live out of their cars?”

“When they go further into the forests, yes. RV living, off the grid. There are many campgrounds in the area. Some of them stick to the legal parks, but a lot will park in the forests and mountains, other places.”

Adele frowned. “Private property?”

Ms. Schroeder pursed her lips. “I don’t encourage it, but I imagine so, yes. Like I said, my tenants are free-spirited sorts.”

Adele, though, shifted uncomfortably. She glanced over her shoulder at the cars again.

More than three hundred clients a year, four missing. Not a large number, and certainly not enough for there to be a pattern. From what Robert had dug up, this hostel, the oasis, was very popular among the sorts that came through. German students, some of them. Many international as well. The place had over two hundred five-star reviews on the various websites it advertised on.

Which meant that reputation, combined with the registry Ms. Schroeder kept, would make this a poor place for the kidnapper’s hunting grounds.

But RVs, camping in the mountains, private property. That would be a better way to bait his hook. That would be when the