Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,38

tape and orange traffic cones.

An officer held out a hand, halting the Sergeant, and he waited testily for Adele to hurry to the edge of the cones.

“Good to see you,” she said.

He grunted in response. His eyes flicked to John, who came along as well. He glanced at the man, and his eyes narrowed, just slightly.

“Well,” said Adele in English, “it’s been a while.”

“Look,” her father replied in German, glancing toward John again. Adele knew the Sergeant was aware John couldn’t speak German. “Adele, I’m sorry, I just don’t have the time.”

“Right,” she said, hesitantly, also in German. “Well, we’re both hungry. I was wondering if you wanted to get a bite to eat with us.”

The Sergeant glanced between his daughter and her partner. He raised an eyebrow high on his sun-stained forehead, then said, “Still with this guy? Can’t fly a helicopter worth a damn from what I remember.”

“What’s he saying?” John said in French.

Adele cleared her throat. “He says it’s nice to see you in person again.”

John scratched his jaw. “Tell him to stop staring at me. If he keeps glaring, I’m gonna knock that mustache off his face.”

Adele glared at John and rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“Tell him.”

Her father had been glancing distractedly off into the forest. His French was rusty, but he’d picked up some while married to Elise. It didn’t seem like he’d fully understood John, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously and he glanced at his daughter. “What did he say?”

“He says it’s nice to meet you again,” she said.

John and her father both crossed their arms within a couple of seconds of each other, staring over at Adele.

She sighed. “Look, can we switch to English, please?”

Her father muttered something about, “Can barely understand him when he tries to speak English.”

John’s frown only deepened.

Adele studied her father. He was behaving strangely. At least, stranger than usual. Aggression, defensiveness, irritation. All these things were regular traits of his personality. But they rarely reared their heads at the same time so seamlessly.

“Dad,” she said, “are you okay?”

Her father glanced at her, but before he could reply, a sudden ruckus broke out from the volunteers further along the trail.

The three of them turned, staring up the highway.

“What do you mean?” one of the officers was asking, his voice loud enough to be heard.

“Missing,” replied one of the young searchers, twisting at his orange vest with trembling fingers. “He was with us, but then he just disappeared. We looked for half an hour. Couldn’t find him. We thought he might have come back.”

The officer shook his head.

“He’s not here?” said the searcher. “Dear God. Where is he?”

Adele frowned back at her father. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

The Sergeant stroked his mustache. “Another kid missing. Part of the search party.”

“Maybe he’s already gone home. Could’ve left the search early. It was kind of grueling for a while there.”

But Adele’s father seemed distracted, glancing toward the trees again. “I’m going back out there,” he said. “Thank you for the offer for dinner, but I’ll take a rain check.”

Adele shifted. “Back out there? It’s dark and freezing, Dad. Let’s just pick up tomorrow morning.”

But the Sergeant shook his head firmly. He still wasn’t wearing a proper jacket, but had retrieved a sweater, it seemed, from his car.

“Well, if you’re going to go…” She trailed off, allowing the sentence to dangle. She glanced over toward the searchers and frowned. One of their own had gone missing. Vaguely, images crossed her mind—images of Amanda. Of the brutality, the pain she’d endured. She’d been tortured, abused. Adele shivered, wondering at the treatment of the other victims. This new fellow, now—this young searcher. Also missing. What would he be enduring? How soon could she stop it?

“I’ll come with you,” she spoke, breaking her own train of thought. “John could come pick us up at the end.”

But her father was shaking his head still. “No, I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be fine. Just another hour or two,” he said.

Again, Adele was struck by how strangely he seemed to be behaving. There was a cadence to the way he spoke that suggested frustration. Anger, even.

“You’re sure?”

In answer, her father waved dismissively and then turned, head down, shoulders hunched, marching determinedly back toward the forest.

“He’s an ass. But he’s a helluva stubborn ass,” said John.

“Stubborn ass,” said Adele. “Wonder where I’ve met one of those before.” She rolled her eyes and turned past her partner, moving in the direction of their parked car and leaving her surly