Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,33
away from the main portion of the campground, toward the hills and through the back woods, Adele was grateful to have the opportunity to stretch her legs. She could feel her blood pressure elevating, and could feel the rotation of her legs, the movement of her arms. She found a small smile inserting itself across her face simply at the joy of movement.
Next to her, John didn’t seem particularly chuffed about the whole deal. He had longer legs and was taller, but after about a mile, he began complaining.
John wasn’t out of shape by any stretch, but the pace he’d initially set to keep ahead of her was taxing him, whereas Adele, used to exertion over long periods of time, began to take the lead again.
The two of them moved along the dirt road, beneath the trees, heading deeper into the campgrounds. There were no light poles around here, no telephone towers. Only trees and horizon. The sky itself was beginning to darken, threatening evening. Adele breathed in the mountain air, once again filled with competing senses. On one hand, she enjoyed the exercise, but on the other, she was reminded how desolate these woods were.
John grabbed the edge of a rusted gate, grunting with exertion as he lifted the thing in its entirety and rotated it, spinning it on ungreased hinges.
The gate protested with a loud creak. Adele read the sign above the gate. Multiple languages read, “No trespassing.”
“Guess he doesn’t want anyone back here,” John said. Then he pointed.
A rusted out bus sat up against an old red and blue pump system, buried in the ground. The bus settled against a dirt hill, about two hundred yards ahead. The old oil well had a spin dial in a glass display case at the very front. The rest of it, though, was still; silent.
Adele flicked an eyebrow to John. “The bus has wheels,” she said. “Think he drove it up here?”
John’s weapon was already in his hand. John and Adele moved cautiously, quietly, as they drew within distance, keeping their voices low. After a few steps, they stopped all sounds entirely. John and Adele stepped forward, moving in a crouch.
The old, rusted bus looked like it had once been a school bus, but was converted into living space. The windows were tinted, but one of them had been smashed. A cardboard cutout had been placed over this window, blocking out the elements. Spray-painted on the hood of the bus were the words “Stinkeye. Weirdo.”
Adele pointed. John edged along the bus, his head ducked, making sure he couldn’t be glimpsed through the windows. Adele followed close behind, her own weapon now in her hand, reassuring in her grip. Her finger hovered over the trigger, pressing against the guard, just in case.
They move past the stationary, defunct oil well and moved up toward the front of the bus.
John pressed his face against the glass quickly, like a snake’s head darting forward. He peered into the bus, his gun at his side, ready to whip up at a moment’s notice. He stared for second, and then his shoulders seemed to relax.
He rotated around the front of the bus and looked through the windshield.
“No one’s home,” he called.
Adele followed. She also peered through the front of the windshield. As she stared through streaked glass, she spotted an old, worn pile of cardboard, with some cloth and a couple of pillows in the back. The seats had all been ripped out, by the looks of things, except for the driver’s side. There was an old table that looked like it been recovered from junk wood.
Adele glanced up and down the aisle. No sign of anyone. She glanced around the clearing and said, “Look there.”
John followed her gaze, and by a fire pit, circled with rocks, he spotted a pile of fur and small bones. Agent Renee cleared his throat, frowning. “He’s a hunter.”
Adele set her teeth. “Means he’s armed. I want to look inside that bus.”
“Private property, isn’t it?”
Adele shook her head. “He’s trespassing. He has a gun, if those bones are anything to go by. We’re allowed.”
John shrugged. “I don’t know the laws here. You’re the one who said I had to keep my nose clean.”
Adele rolled her eyes, but approached the window. There was no door handle. She guessed there was probably some electrical hinge. Still, one of the windows, the cardboard one, was big enough for her to fit through.