Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,62
them settled in silence in the car as lights from the street beyond the hospital roundabout zipped by. They distanced from the hospital, and as they moved from that oppressive place, Adele found herself thinking more clearly again. But now she needed a solution.
Every investigation had a solution. She just wasn’t always clever enough, diligent enough to find it. But this time, for Amanda’s sake, for those twenty-six names, for those potential two hundred others, she had to.
“Look,” said John, “if we’re facing more than one killer, who do we narrow it down to? Any suspects?”
Adele strained, sitting suddenly upright in her seat.
“What?” John asked.
“That’s the mistake we’ve been making,” she said, breathlessly. “Heinrich and his old rusted bus. A loner. That property owner was also a loner. But what if we’re not looking for an individual? The road checks, people keeping an eye on traffic—they’ve also been keeping an eye out for individuals. But if we’re looking for multiple suspects…”
“Well,” John said, trailing off. “We do know they’ve been operating for a while now. At least nine years.”
“That means they’re older,” said Adele. “They have to be. If we had known that, Heinrich couldn’t have even been on our list. He would have been a teenager when the first victims started disappearing.”
“All right, so if they’re older, they probably live somewhere nearby, yes?”
Adele sniffed. “Makes sense. Near the Black Forest area. Ha Eun’s body was discovered in a field, miles away. Intentionally dumped where we could find it. A mistake, though.”
“How so?” John’s face was illuminated by the traffic lights above. Adele peered through the chilled glass as they moved along the streets away from the hospital. “Because they wanted us to find her body. They showed the body too far from the Black Forest. It confirms that they’re near the forest. They wanted to redirect our search efforts—which means we were getting close. Someone got close.”
“The search parties, you think? So we’re looking for an older group of two or more killers in the Black Forest area within our search radius.” John trailed off. “Who do we know?”
Adele tapped a finger against her teeth, her mouth half unhinged, thoughts swirling through her mind.
And then it dawned on her. She swiveled toward John, and her hand darted to her pocket, pressing against the rigid outline of her phone through the fabric of her pants. “My dad stumbled upon a cabin when he was searching the woods,” she said, quickly. “Said there was a couple there. A man and woman. He talked about a farm, self-sustainable.” As she spoke, Adele’s words came faster, spilling from her lips as her subconscious caught up with her active thoughts. “Broken branches means broken bones…” Adele breathed, a shiver along her arms. “Every child needs play time; I don’t really know what that means, but I think the killers have been letting their victims out for some yard time. Even maximum-security prisons give their prisoners yard time.”
“Yard time? I’m not following.”
“This cabin in the woods, it had plants, trees. My dad mentioned it. If they’re an older couple, married, it might lull the young backpackers into a false sense of security. Though,” Adele trailed off now, frowning to herself. “My dad said he got a good impression. They offered him food, and they were warm, hospitable.”
“Not exactly indicting characteristics.”
“No. But old, off grid, in the Black Forest area. In the grid pattern of the search parties and, also, within a radius of where most of our victims have gone missing. And they have a garden. A well-maintained garden. If you break the plants they break your bones.”
“What?”
“Whoever this killer is, they’re very protective of these plants. Maybe their own garden. We need to find out where that cabin is.”
“Well, call your dad.”
Adele gritted her teeth and fished her phone from her pocket. She quickly cycled through her contacts, found the Sergeant, and pressed the number.
The car was quiet for the next few moments, but Adele was confronted only by a ring tone. She growled in frustration and tried again.
“Not answering?”
She shook her head. She tried again. No answer. She muttered darkly to herself and tried a final time. No answer.
Her father hadn’t even set up a voicemail.
“Dammit,” she shouted, slamming her hand against the glove compartment.
“Well,” John said, steadily, taking the unusual role as the calm one in their duo, “you know your father. It’s your job to find people. Where will he be? How can we get to him?”
Adele hesitated.
“Might he be back