Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,36

simply ignored her now. Adele sighed, muttered a quiet thank-you, then got up to leave the table.

“When can I get out of here?” he called after her.

“That’s up to the police to decide,” Adele called back. “And,” she turned, looking at him, “stop trespassing. Someone’s going to get hurt.”

The man hunched a bit, folding in on himself and staring at his hands, muttering grumpily to himself. Adele turned and exited the interview room, more deflated than when she’d entered.

Outside, John was waiting, a bag of chips in his hand. His other hand held his phone, and he frowned.

“What?” she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Interpol’s trying to get a hold of you,” he said.

Adele cursed and fished her phone out. Two missed calls. “I had it on silent for the interrogation.”

John nodded toward the one-way window. “Is that our guy?”

Adele turned and examined Heinrich’s hunched form. He was still muttering quietly to himself, picking at his fingernails and scraping the handcuffs against the metal table as if somehow he found the grating sound soothing.

“I don’t think so,” said Adele. “He’s skeezy, but I don’t think he’s a killer. Says he has an alibi for the time when Amanda disappeared. Jail time. We can check it out.”

“Gut instinct?”

“He’s not our guy,” said Adele. “You saw his bus, look at the state of him. He can’t maintain himself; I don’t think there’s any way he could conduct a sophisticated series of kidnappings, carrying out a strategy and a plan for potentially years without getting caught. There are too many eyes on him. He’s not exactly inconspicuous. The campers know him. The campground owner knows and dislikes him. No, I don’t think he’s our guy. Besides, if I had to bet on it—his alibi is going to check out.”

John nodded. “Checks out. Officers searched his bus home. Found nothing, no evidence. Couple of dirty magazines and a bottle of hand lotion.” John glanced through the glass and wrinkled his nose. “But nothing unusual.”

“So no leads,” she said.

“No leads,” he replied.

Both of them shared a disgruntled, quiet look. Then Adele sighed, lifted her phone, and returned the call. The name read Ms. Jayne.

She stepped past John, moving into one of the break rooms, which for the moment was empty. She stood against the back wall, waiting patiently as her phone rang.

Then the camera connected, and she found the small image of herself in the bottom right, and a full image of a gray-haired, bespectacled lady. The woman on the screen seemed the opposite in every way to Heinrich Gardner. Where he had been dirty and unkempt, Ms. Jayne was clean and well maintained. She was a bit heavier than most field agents, but had intelligent, searching eyes.

“Hello,” Adele said, clearing her throat, her tone injected with the energy of someone communicating with their boss after a long day—a bit too chipper, too eager; pure compensation. “Are you trying to contact me?”

The image moved, but Adele couldn’t hear anything. Quickly, she turned off silent and increased the volume. “Sorry, what was that?”

In crisp, clear tones that somehow communicated an air of control, of certainty, Ms. Jayne said, “It’s good to see you again, Agent Sharp. Apologies for not contacting you sooner. Do we have any leads on the case in the Black Forest?”

Adele shook her head once. “I’m afraid not. I just got out of an interview with a suspect. Doesn’t look like he’s our guy.”

The Interpol correspondent paused, and silence stretched between them. For a moment, Adele wondered if perhaps she had lost connection.

But then Ms. Jayne spoke. “I see.”

Those words hung still in the air, and someone moved into the break room, heading toward the coffee pot. Adele fixed them with such a glare that the police officer raised an apologetic hand and moved quickly back out of the break room, coffee left unattended.

“We’re working on it,” Adele said. “It’s only been a day, give us some time.”

The correspondent nodded, a curt, short motion, as if she couldn’t be bothered to wag her head like normal people.

“It’s worth noting, Agent Sharp, that word is circulating in the agencies. The list of names that you came up with, people who have gone missing in the area, has been passed from agency to agency. Part of Interpol’s role is to keep all parties apprised of our operations.” She cleared her throat. “At least, where prudent.”

Adele winced. She wasn’t sure what this meant, but waited for Ms. Jayne to explain.

“Long story short, a lot of