Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,73

father had a troubled expression. Adele came to a halt beneath the streetlight. The ambulances behind them flashed, and a couple of them closed their doors as they drove away, making room for others.

“I was wrong,” said the Sergeant, his tone heavy.

Adele just watched him. “You did a fine job,” she said. “If you hadn’t found that couple, who knows what would’ve happened.”

“I was wrong,” he repeated. “I thought the Kloses were harmless. But I missed it.” He stared through the window, watching her.

“Dad,” Adele said, shakily, “don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m not in the mood right now. We can talk in the morning.”

Her father didn’t even seem to register her words. He sat in the squad car, a hunched form, his mustache drooping, as were his shoulders.

“I missed it,” he muttered. “But you figured it.” He looked at her, his eyes vibrant with something akin to hope, but tinged with something nearer to regret.

“I did what I could,” said Adele. “Eight of them recovered. Some of them might not make it still.”

“That first one,” her father said. “The young girl who escaped—Amanda?”

Adele’s voice cracked, to her surprise, but she cleared it and said, “It looks like she will make a recovery. She should be fine, or at least, on a path that could one day lead to fine.”

Her father shook his head again and muttered darkly to himself.

“Dad, it’s cold. How about we talk in the morning.”

Her father was still glaring now, his eyes fixed on a crack in the sidewalk. “I should’ve known that they were the killers,” he said. “But I missed it; every time I miss it someone dies. Your mother,” he said, darkly, “I missed those clues too.”

Adele felt a flutter of annoyance, but also one of sympathy. “Dad, please, let’s not talk about this now. It’s not your fault. You did a great job. You found that cabin when no one else did.”

But her father shook his head. “You don’t get it. If I’d acted sooner, we would’ve caught them. That girl might not have died.” His voice cracked. “She might’ve lived. Adele, don’t you get it?” he said, desperately. Now tears streamed down his cheeks, his chin shaking. “She might’ve lived! If I had been quicker, smarter, she might not be dead.”

He was now crying. Adele had never seen him like this before. She felt uncomfortable, sympathetic, annoyed all at once.

“Dad, look, it’s fine. Eight—actually, nine with Amanda—are alive. We did what we could.”

“I loved her, you know,” he said. “Not always. Not perfectly. But I did. If I’d paid better attention, if I’d really known, she’d be alive. But I couldn’t. I thought I could. I thought I could, but I couldn’t. And then she died, and I knew I had to figure it out. I had to solve it.” He shouted now, and Adele winced, ducking her head. A couple of the paramedics were looking over, alarmed.

“Dad, quiet. It’s fine.”

But he didn’t seem to be talking to her. He was still shouting, shaking his head wildly. Tears now streaming down his face. She had never seen him cry like this before. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him cry at all.

“But I missed it. I missed it. I thought I could do it. I thought I could solve it. I thought I had to,” he exclaimed. And now he fixed his burning glare on Adele. “And yet it was nothing. I couldn’t figure it out. I missed that clue, the couple in the cabin, I missed it, the same way I missed the point of those candies. I still don’t even know what it means.”

Adele stared at her father. Now, all her emotions receding like the tide, settling in her stomach, and leaving behind a cold prickle. “Hang on,” she said, “what candies?”

“Your mother mentioned that. Said something about one being poisoned. At least she thought they might’ve been. I thought she was hysterical. And then two days later, she was dead.”

Adele’s tone had a sharp edge to it. “Dad, what fucking candies? I’ve read every report they have on Mom’s case. What fucking candies are you talking about? There was nothing about candies in any of the reports. Nothing in your notebook. What are you saying?”

Normally, when Adele came after him, or if anyone tried to challenge him, his jaw would set, his shoulders would square, his hands would bunch. He’d fight it out to the last. All the fight had left Joseph Sharp, though,