Left to Murder (Adele Sharp #5) - Blake Pierce Page 0,14

of relief from a couple of wealthy travelers in the front section of first class. Adele tried to inhale fully, then exhale to calm herself. She never particularly liked cases that involve knives. Images flashed across her mind’s eye at the thought. Cuts, scars, swirling, looping patterns painted in agony and flesh.

Adele winced, gritting her teeth, her eyes sightless as she stared at the back headrest in front of her. Normally, when she went for a jog in the mornings, it helped clear her head, and it helped her focus. Now, though, she could feel the anxiety swirling in her chest. She could picture the images, the screenshot memories of her mother’s case, her mother’s corpse. Memories perhaps best forgotten, or filed away deep, deep in her subconscious.

Still, despite her distraction, it was up to Adele to solve this particular case. Clinical or not, humane or otherwise, there was a killer on the loose, and it was her job to find him before he killed again.

CHAPTER SIX

Agent John Renee hated small cars. His long legs pushed up against the back seat in the squad car the Bordeaux Police Department had sent for them. Adele was in the front passenger seat, and he felt certain she had pushed her chair as far back as it would go on purpose.

He could feel his knees pressed up against the leather, and he glared at the back of Adele’s head over the head rest. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. She had showered before the flight, and he could smell the faint fragrance of strawberries and soap.

“Nice scenery,” Adele said absentmindedly, gazing out the front window.

The local cop who had been sent to fetch them didn’t reply, but just nodded once, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them as they moved down the road. On either side, fields stretched across in the shadows of mountains; hilly terrain was replaced by flat, open expanses. John could see the effect of swirling wind meandering through various trees, and row after row of vines married to wooden supports on either side of the road.

Adele murmured, “It’s been a while since I’ve been out here. It really is quite pretty.” She pushed a finger against the window button and it slid a bit. A warm, fragrant breeze swirled through the vehicle, and Adele smiled to herself, the corner of her lips just visible to John.

“Yes, fine,” John snapped, indifferent to his partner’s existential moment. “Mind moving your chair forward a bit?”

She turned slightly and looked at him over her shoulder. Even her profile was quite pretty in an exotic sort of way. French, American, and German. Adele was the full package. John wrinkled his nose at the thought, though, and quickly distanced himself from it. He replaced the sentiment with another burst of frustration. “I’m serious, you’re cutting off my circulation.”

Adele’s tone carried every level of condescension as she said, “Maybe if you weren’t such a filthy, filthy lover, your blood flow would be better regulated.”

Then she turned back and made absolutely no effort to adjust her seat.

John leaned back, jamming his knees into her chair, realizing exactly how childish this made him seem. As he looked at Adele, though, staring at her from the back of the squad car, he felt a flicker of unease. She had been acting strangely ever since the case in Germany with the missing children. He had been there, after she had fallen out with her father.

Part of him wondered if he ought to ask her about it. That’s what a decent person would do, or so he assumed. He rarely spent much time around any of those.

The squad car pulled up a dusty dirt path, kicking up debris and rattling as it made its way along the unpaved road. John winced each time one of his knees jammed painfully into the back of Adele’s seat. He gripped the handle above his window, and waited, until they pulled to a halt.

“This is it?” he asked, growling.

“Yes, sir,” said the local. “It’s where they found the body. The vineyard where she works is only two miles down the road.”

Adele was already exiting the car, pushing open the door and stepping out. She closed the door behind her, giving John time to figure out how to squeeze out of the cramped backseat on his own.

At last, he managed to extricate himself, stepping out into the dusty, cool terrain beneath the sun veiled by a scattering of clouds.