Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,37

other agencies from victims’ home countries are wanting in on this. I’ve had calls from Switzerland, France, Belgium, and England. America is starting to get involved, and I’ve received calls from at least three different FBI field offices.”

Adele winced again.

“All that to say, I know you do excellent work. You’ve proven that. But I’m going to need you to rise to the occasion on this one. We can’t have everyone getting involved. Too many hands on deck. But the longer it takes, the more difficult it will be to prevent them from hopping aboard. Understand?”

Adele nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat. With each dip of her head, she felt a mounting weight of pressure settle on her shoulders like a thick blanket.

Adele thought of her promise to the Johnsons—to Amanda’s parents. She’d given her word. They were counting on her. She had to solve this case. Nations away, the parents grieved; here on the ground, Adele had to do the work. If she couldn’t solve this case… then perhaps she couldn’t solve…

Solve what?

A smothering sensation filled her, and she had to close her eyes briefly, to stave off a sudden headache. When she opened them, she saw Ms. Jayne unblinking, staring through her clear spectacles and waiting.

“We don’t have any leads yet,” Adele said, a rasp in her throat. “But we can find one. We’ll solve this. We both know what happens when too many people get involved. Especially across agencies.”

Ms. Jayne replied, “I believe you’re right. But either way, you’re on a timer, Adele. I can only hold back the dogs from the other yards for so long. It wouldn’t look good to Germany, or Interpol, for us to require the help of these other agencies. One thing that I’ve learned coordinating is that ten generals leading an army creates a disjointed battle.”

Adele nodded again. “We’ll solve it.”

“Soon.”

“Yes. Soon,” said Adele. Then she nodded once, in the same way Ms. Jayne had at the start of the conversation, and, as if on cue, they both hung up in unison, the images cutting out on the screen.

Bleeding… Bleeding… Always bleeding… Adele saw the movies play across her eyes—the images of her mother. The wounds, the tortures. She thought of Amanda’s injuries. The kidnapper kept his victims for a long time… Who knew how long?

She shuddered, imagining what he might be doing to them. Imagining the ways he might be enjoying his playthings. All the while laughing at the incompetence of those tasked with putting an end to the pain.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Cold no longer settled, but rather attacked. Adele could feel the blistering air sifting through her clothing, creeping up her sleeves, down the collar of her shirt, pressing against her cheekbones.

She winced against the gnawing cold, standing out by the highway once more with John at her side. She watched as the groups of volunteers gathered beyond the traffic cones. Orange vests were returned to the coordinators. Dogs were shuffled back into vehicles, tempted with treats and provided bowls of water. The small tents that had served as a launching point were slowly torn down.

Adele heard the coordinator, the same officer from before, calling out, “Search is done for the night; we’ll reconvene in the morning. Thank you for your efforts!”

Illumination came from the headlights of the parked vehicles and the few safety lights still lining the highway. Adele glanced up, frowning. At least three of the seven lights within view were out.

She shoved her hands deep in her jacket pockets, finding her thin gloves were insufficient against the night’s frigid intent.

John nudged Adele, and she followed his gaze.

A man with a walrus mustache and thick, muscular forearms was stomping out of the forest, in front of a group of nine seemingly exhausted and bedraggled rescue workers. Adele’s father seemed ready to go another ten rounds, but everyone who’d been in his group looked on the verge of collapse.

Some of them actually draped themselves against the trees, chugging from water bottles they’d carried at their belts.

Adele’s father ignored them, marched over to the table where the jackets and whistles were being collected, returned his items, and then marched right back toward the forest.

“Dad,” Adele called out, taking a few steps forward and raising a hand to try to catch his attention. He seemed to ignore her, and she called again, frowning, “Dad!”

The Sergeant hesitated, glancing over in her direction. Reluctantly, he left the forest edge and approached her, stepping onto the highway that was cordoned off and surrounded by caution