Left to Murder (Adele Sharp #5) - Blake Pierce Page 0,33

glared at her. “What does my mother have to do with this? Have some respect.”

She shrugged. “I wonder if your victims felt the same way. When you forced yourself on them.”

The man snorted. “I didn’t murder anyone.”

John said, “That’s not what your file suggests. Seems like you got away with it, but you definitely murdered those two college kids nearly a decade ago. You were seen.”

The greasy, half-drunk felon muttered, “Just like you folks; always pinning something on those who’ve already serve their time. I paid for my crimes. Just let me live my life.”

“Happy to,” John said. “Long as you do the same for others. Then again, maybe I’m not so happy to. You know what, I’m not sure I even care if you did it.” He lowered his voice, and in a conspiratorial whisper, he added, glancing at Adele, “Honestly, I’m tired. I want to go home. Let’s just pin it on him. The judge will believe us. Send him away for life. Keep that stink away from others.”

“Hang on—look. This Ms. Gueyen. Really, no clue who that is. I’ve been on a three-day bender,” he retorted. “I don’t even remember where I keep my pants.”

John was staring at the man across the table. He spoke in a low voice. “I don’t even care that you’re a rapist. I don’t care that you’re probably a murderer. I just don’t like how you look. It’s the smell. It’s your eyes. I used to put people down just for looking at me the way you do. It’ll be nice to find you, one day, outside the precinct, just the two of us. My partner here,” he glanced at her, and tilted his head to indicate, “she’s nice. I’m not.”

“John, relax,” Adele murmured softly. But her partner ignored her.

Mr. Glaude was staring, his mouth half open. The threat was heavy in the air, and the attempted intimidation seemed to stretch between them. His handcuffs rattled a bit, but then Mr. Glaude seemed to snap out of the spell, as if he remembered where they were. He snorted, and actually spat now, onto the table, some of the droplets getting on John’s hands.

Mr. Glaude returned John’s smirk. “You think you’re the only one that knows how to have a good time? You think you’re the only one that has played with people’s insides before? You don’t scare me; you’re a poser! Those two bodies, I didn’t do it,” he added quickly. “Never touched a hair. What you’re accusing me of now, never did it either.” But then his face broke into a skeletal leer, a smile stretching his cheeks like taffy. “If I did, though, I would’ve liked them big. Big and stupid, like you. I would’ve used a small little knife, rusty, blunt. Tear the skin. Maximum pain. They’d squeal like a bunch of little stuck piggies. Ever heard a pig squeal like that before?” he said, still leering at John. “Maybe you have a sister, a mother, or,” he shuddered in delight, “a little daughter.” He gasped, making a sort of orgasmic sound that made Adele clench her teeth. “I would spend so much time enjoying their company. Not that I ever did. But, one can imagine,” he said, and after finishing, he leaned back, shoulders pressed against the cushioned chair, hands limp against the table. The thin veneer of spit still streaked the table.

John went suddenly cold. Through hooded eyes, the eyes of an actual killer, he looked at Adele. “Sounds to me like he’s saying he did those murders from last decade. Think that’s a confession?”

Adele sighed. John’s tactics were never protocol, but often effective. “Certainly enough for a judge to want to take another look at his case. I’ll make sure to tell the locals.”

Adele looked at her partner and then glanced back at the felon. “I think you did those other two. The ones you got away with. Now, you’ve been recently released, and one of the workers at a vineyard you visit was also killed, also exsanguinated.”

The man across the table was now shaking his head wildly, his ponytail shifting back and forth. “You’re insane,” he said. “Absolutely insane. I didn’t do it.”

Adele’s phone began to buzz.

She frowned, her eyes narrowed. She hated when she was interrupted when they had a suspect rattled. John had played his cards perfectly. Adele was not someone averse to mercy. She didn’t consider herself a bloodthirsty person. Even someone like Mr. Glaude, in her opinion, could be redeemed. She