Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,51

found a body.”

Adele blinked. “A body? Where?”

“I can text you the coordinates.” A pause, then Adele’s phone buzzed once more. “Get it?” the voice said.

Adele glanced and nodded to herself. “Got it. Thanks.” She clicked her phone and looked at John. She held his gaze for a moment. “They found a body.”

He went still. “Related to our case?”

“They seem to think so. Or they wouldn’t have called.”

John puffed a breath, his cheeks bulging then receding as the air escaped his mouth. Then, cursing once, as if following some protocol, he turned on his heel and began stalking back toward their parked car.

Adele followed, her insides swirling with guilt, frustration, anticipation. She pulled her phone out again, scanning the coordinates, and flashed them to John as they got into their car, gunned the engine, and, blinker on, moved back onto the highway.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The forests faded to fields.

Adele heard a quiet crunch of tires as they moved off road and their vehicle whirred to a stop. Ahead, she saw the flashing lights of patrol cars, and an officer sealing off the crime scene. A fresh scene. Caution tape was still being dragged from one sawhorse to another.

Adele glanced around, frowning. “This is miles from the Black Forest,” she murmured. This time, at least, it wasn’t in the middle of the road. No traffic. No civilians. A grim air hung over the field.

Adele and John exited the car together and moved around the hood, rejoining on the other side in lockstep. A body dropped—but far from the forest. Intentionally far? Was it the same kidnapper? Now a killer, then… Adele could feel bile in the back of her throat and swallowed, her fingertips tapping a tattoo into her upper thigh as she moved.

“Why so far?” she said.

“Maybe it’s not one of ours,” John replied quietly.

Adele and John flashed their credentials and ducked beneath the caution tape, moving toward the crime scene. Adele spotted a couple of BKA agents, judging by the lettering on their fleeces, standing off, huddled in one corner of the scene, muttering to each other.

“Looks like we were beaten here,” she murmured.

“That timer is still ticking,” John replied, barely moving his lips. “You think BKA is going to keep playing nice?”

Adele shook her head, but then stepped forward, her feet pressed against terrain that seemed strange after so much time spent in a forest. The field was barren as winter had inserted itself across the land. But the body was visible, wedged against ridged and furrowed ground.

As she neared, she winced. A young girl, dark hair, her neck slit.

“That’s Ha Eun Lee,” said John, grim. “Look,” he said. She glanced down as he quickly scrolled through his phone.

“One of the sixteen names?” she asked.

He nodded, growling now. “I guess I know why they called us.”

The two of them approached the young girl. Whoever had cut her throat had done so ear to ear. Practiced. One didn’t cut so deeply, through sinew and muscle and flesh, in a single stroke, if they hadn’t practiced.

A farmer? A butcher? Or… a slow chill settled on Adele—perhaps a seasoned murderer. Another international student—another victim far from family or friends. More phone calls would eventually be made. More weeping on the other end. More expectation.

But Adele didn’t need any more expectation. She’d given her word to the Johnsons. She’d promised. This had to end. It had to end now. Again, she shivered, considering the way the kidnapper—now killer—played with his victims. Considering the way he tortured them, abused them.

Adele had to close her eyes, staving off the sudden surge of anxiety and urgency. Each second wasted was another broken bone. Each minute dawdled was another laceration, another minute of agony.

She shook her head, crouching in the field, her feet strained against the ridged, frosted ground.

“Why is the body all the way out here?” she murmured.

John stooped next to her, hands on his knees.

She caught the BKA agents glancing toward them, frowning. Agent Marshall wasn’t there—she’d chaperoned for a few hours on the first day, but Adele was starting to wonder if perhaps even their babysitter had been called away from helping them.

The timer was ticking. Other agencies were going to keep getting involved. This was going to turn into a mess if she didn’t clean it up soon. But already, they had a body. A murder.

“I guess our kidnapper is a killer after all,” Adele murmured.

“Wasn’t much doubt of that,” John said. He trailed off, still flicking through his phone. Then his thumb paused, pressed