Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,39
father to search the forest at night on his own. He was a police officer. He’d handled himself for years before Adele had even been born. Still, she felt a niggling of worry as she left. She could still hear the disturbing sounds from the volunteers, protesting their missing companion.
The timer was ticking… each passing second measured in ounces of agony. Each moment a venture into the torturous ministrations of Amanda’s kidnapper. She’d promised the Johnsons a conclusion. She’d promised.
The trees around her seemed darker. All of a sudden the night around her, illuminated by safety lights and headlights, seemed oppressive, and swelled with shadows.
***
The drive back to the airport motel passed in silence. The whipping lights, flashing by on the highway, streaked shadows in strange shapes across John’s muscled chest. Agent Renee remained quiet as well, but occasionally would glance at Adele expectantly, as if waiting for something.
The third time this happened, she frowned at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Good talk.”
She leaned her head against the glass again, staring at the passing cars on the other side of the road.
“You think something is wrong with him?” said John.
“My dad?”
John nodded.
“Like you said, he’s a stubborn ass. But,” she trailed off and winced. “I missed Christmas with him. Spent it with Robert.”
“Because of the snowstorm?”
Adele turned, looking at him. For some reason, she felt a flush of relief. “Exactly, you understand.”
John nodded. “I’m sure he understands too.”
Adele gnawed her lip. “I don’t know what he understands. I never have, probably never will. He just hasn’t seemed himself lately.”
John’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel, and he peered through the windshield, tracking the highway back to their motel.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, I hope so. Can’t say the same for us. Ms. Jayne says we’re on a timer. Agencies from the countries of the missing persons are wanting to get involved. If we can’t solve this soon, the case will probably be taken from us. And you know how it is when people coordinate from all over.”
John winced. “They won’t solve anything at that point. Just will keep getting in each other’s way, then hiding things from other agencies, then won’t communicate out of spite. Seen it plenty.”
Adele nodded. “And all these other people, the ones Amanda warned us about. We’ll never find them. John, we have to do better. They’re counting on us.”
John’s fingers tapped even quicker against the steering wheel, and through gritted teeth, he muttered, “I know.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Diedrich woke in a chicken wire cage. His head throbbed, pulsing, flashes of white light dancing across his vision. He winced against the invasion of pain, winced against the curdling memories seeping back into his brain. And winced, an extra measure, against the fear, now suggesting itself in cold prickles up his spine.
Beneath his head, he felt the rigid, coarse shape of a pillow. Beneath his arm, the floor. Cold. Concrete.
Still wincing, and struggling against the sensation in his head, he moved into a sitting position, doing his best to register his surroundings.
Diedrich heard the sound of rushing water. Pipes. He strained, blinking a few times and wincing once more from the effort of moving. Pain blossomed across his skull. He reached up, and found his arms wouldn’t move. He winced and glanced down. His hands were tied in front of him.
The metal mesh of the chicken wire cage surrounded him, from floor to ceiling.
Diedrich heard shuffling. He glanced sharply to the side, and nearly blacked out again from the motion. Pain exploded across his eyes, and his head thundered from the rapid movement.
He eased himself back into a forward-facing position, blinking, allowing his head to recover, and then, slowly this time, glanced to the side.
There were other cages in the room. Cages with people.
They were in a dark, damp basement, it seemed. No lights, no windows. The walls were pure concrete, streaked with dust and molded stains. The water pipes above moved through the room. Diedrich’s uncle had worked as a plumber once upon a time, and so he knew they were likely below a house. Or, at least, somewhere nearby.
He glanced toward the other people in the cages. Many of them dirt streaked and stained. He could smell shit in the air, and spotted a bucket in the corner of each of the cages. He had his own bucket.
And while his hands were bound, his feet were free. Hesitantly, he got to his feet, easing into a standing position. The quiet rushing of water could be heard again from the plumbing above.
“Hello?”