Left To Run

by Blake Pierce

  Adele felt a final twinge of regret. She was nearly certain now; they’d caught a criminal, just the wrong one. “You’re using a fake name? Marcus Short. If we look that up, what are we going to find in the database? Save us some time here.”

  He paled again and shifted in his seat. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Out of proportion. Not a big deal.”

  Adele turned away in disgust and glanced back at Paige. Her would-be partner shrugged.

  “Stay here,” Adele said, expressionless. “I’m going to look up what you have to say. But if you’re lying to me…” She pointed a firm finger toward their suspect.

  Gabriel, though, was no longer paying attention. He had nearly melted in the chair now, and was scooted so low his head was nearly in line with the metal back support. Adele could see the panic in his eyes as he considered the implications of what came next.

  If he was telling her the truth, he would be in trouble. If he fled the US, avoiding warrants or fines, France would most likely extradite. Especially to play nice with Interpol. But also, if he was telling the truth, it meant he wasn’t a killer.

  Reluctantly, she opened the interrogation room door and moved out into the hall, heading for Robert’s office with reluctant, uneven steps. The background check wouldn’t take long if the name he’d provided was accurate.

  They were back to square one. Adele knew Agent Paige wouldn’t let her hear the end of it. But worse, it meant a killer was still out there.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Check it again,” said Adele, then added, “please.”

  Robert readjusted in his chair behind his large oak desk. The quiet ticking of the wooden clock above the door was followed closely by clacking from the computer’s keyboard. At last, Robert paused, then looked up. “There is indeed a warrant out for Marcus Short.”

  Adele felt her chest tighten. The last vestiges of hope faded to a resigned inevitability. “Are you sure?” she said, though her heart wasn’t in it. Adele moved away from the door and circled the desk to peer over her mentor’s shoulder.

  Robert scowled in mock offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m becoming quite adept with these things. Computers aren’t so tough after all.” He affectionately patted the side of his monitor.

  “That’s not the computer,” said Adele. “It’s the screen. But your point is taken.”

  A picture of Gabriel Waters was displayed on the screen next to the name Marcus Short. As she scanned the information, she reached out and scrolled with the mouse. “Suspended medical license,” she murmured, her mood souring even more.

  Robert jerked the mouse away from her, though, and said, “All right, grabby hands, just tell me what you need…”

  “Scroll down a little. When was the warrant issued?”

  Robert glanced down at the bottom of the screen. Then whistled. “He’s been wanted for the last two years. Looks like his story checks out.” Robert winced and glanced over his shoulder at Adele. “Sorry.”

  She grunted in disgust, then moved away from the desk once more. Adele could feel Robert watching as she moved back over to her own desk. Instead of sitting, she plopped down on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs before folding her hands in her lap and staring out across the room.

  “Well,” she said, “that’s it. Back to square one.”

  “Ever wonder why it has to be a square? I mean… why not an oval? Or a cube?” Robert asked, still looking at his computer screen.

  Before Adele could reply, Agent Paige appeared in the doorway. Adele stiffened as the agent cleared her throat. “Well,” Paige said. “That was a waste of time.”

  Adele frowned. “You check the records too?”

  Paige nodded, barely concealing a self-satisfied smirk. “His story checks out. Plus, he has a solid alibi for the night of Amanda’s death. Not our man.”

  Adele’s knuckles whitened where her hands clasped each other in her lap. “No,” she said, “I guess not.”

  Paige glanced from Robert to Adele. “Any other brilliant leads?” she asked, cheerfully.

  Adele glared. “Hey,” she said, “I’m trying here. You have a better idea?”

  Agent Paige leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and pressing her fingers against the sleeves of her gray suit. “You’re the Interpol attaché. What’s your brilliant plan? Any other wannabe Casanovas you’d like to arrest?” She smirked. “Not getting lonely, are you?”

  Adele narrowed her eyes at the older woman. “It was a solid lead and the right call.”

  “Right call?” Paige snorted. “How was that the right call? We arrested a man for showing his junk to a couple of women.”

  “No, we arrested a man who fled when we approached him for questioning. And like I said, if you don’t have any better ideas—”

  “You know what your problem is?” Paige said, matching the frustration in Adele’s tone.

  Adele pushed off her desk and stood to her feet, hands loose at her side. “No, what?”

  “Ladies,” Robert interrupted, also rising from his chair. The shorter man didn’t cut an imposing figure, but he kept his tone calm anyway, speaking gently. “Please,” he said, “there’s no need for this.”

  Paige rounded on Robert. “You stay out of this,” she snapped. “If I need the advice of an old fossil, I’ll ask.”

  “Hey,” Adele retorted, stepping toward Paige, “watch it! Show some respect.”

  Paige’s narrowed eyes leveled back on Adele, and she made a tsking sound through her teeth. “Is this how he taught you to investigate? I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re still trapped in an old way of thinking. If we find out someone else died, it will be your fault. Both of you!”

  “There’s no need—” Robert began.

  But Agent Paige didn’t let him finish. “No need?” She jammed a finger at Adele. “You know what this bitch did?”

  Robert flinched, and his expression darkened. “Careful,” he said, scowling for the first time.

  “No, you be careful,” Paige snapped. “You’re in bed with a snake. Is that what you do up at that mansion of his? Get in bed?” She whirled back on Adele, her eyes flashing.

  Adele hadn’t realized it, but she’d taken another two steps, her hands bunched at her side; she now stood only an arm’s length from the older woman.

  Paige’s eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do about it?” she demanded.

  “Shut up,” Adele snapped. She was tired of playing this game. Tired of trying to be polite, trying to deflect frustration. Agent Paige was going out of her way to be a complete liability. Adele refused to stand by, watching as Paige insulted Robert.

  “I don’t take orders from you,” Paige growled. “Even though you might want me to.”

  “I told you,” the sound of gritted teeth stressing the words, “I never meant for any of that to happen. I saw evidence missing and I reported it. What should I have done?”

  Paige went stiff again, as she had the last time the subject had been breached. “You nearly cost me my marriage. You cost me my job.”

  Robert cleared his throat. “The same way you’re trying to get me out?” he asked.

  A silence fell for a moment, and Adele glanced over in confusion, looking between Paige and Robert.

  Paige, though, turned toward the window, not meeting Robert’s gaze, a look of guilt flashing across her face. But just as quickly, the expression vanished, and she glared at Robert. “Foucault trusts my opinion. And I provided it. What he decides is up to him.”

  Adele continued frowning, trying to keep track. “Robert, what’s she talking about?”

  Robert’s face was still creased. “It’s not important,” he said.

  But Adele didn’t let it go. “No, tell me.”

  Robert didn’t speak, but Paige turned back to Adele. “I guess you and I aren’t so different,” she said with a sneer. “Foucault asked my opinion a few months ago about areas where the department could get better.” She shrugg
ed, stretching her mouth and turning the corners of her lips down in an infuriatingly noncommittal way. “I may have mentioned your old mentor here is out of date. Obsolete.” She slowly enunciated the last word, emphasizing and dragging out each syllable. She didn’t blink now, staring at Adele as if challenging her to make something out of it.

  Adele could feel her blood pulsing in her ears. Her hands were still bunched in fists. “You’re the one who’s been trying to get Robert out of here? Just to get at me?” Adele was shouting now. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Paige sniffed. “Not everything is about you.”

  Adele’s voice became a shout. “I can’t believe Foucault assigned you to me. You’re the worst. John was unprofessional, but he at least knew how to work a case. You—you’re useless. You’re worse than useless. You’re a liability!”

  Paige laughed, a short, unpleasant barking sound. “John? You want to know about John? The moment he heard you were coming back, he jumped at the first case they offered. Something in finance, of all things. He didn’t want to work with you!” She watched Adele, as if looking for some bitter fruit to pluck. At a flash in Adele’s eyes, Paige smirked, and continued, “That’s right. You didn’t know. But John didn’t want to work with you. He begged for the first case they had. Leaving me stuck with you; he chose to avoid you. So much for your precious Agent Renee.”

  Adele hesitated, shaking her head. She was so mad her hands were trembling. She had never wanted to punch anyone in the office before, but now, she could feel herself rehearsing it in her mind.

  “Adele,” Robert said, quietly, “it’s not worth it.”

  Agent Paige jutted her chin up defiantly, her own hands at her waist, but also clenched, as if preparing for Adele’s reaction.

  A brief moment of sanity reigned as Adele wondered if Paige was telling the truth about John. Had John really taken another case to avoid working with her? Her mind flashed back to the last time they had talked. It had been awkward, sure. But did John really hate her so much?

  She felt a flash of shame and quickly transitioned to the easiest emotion. Anger. But, as words burbled up and her fists continued to tighten at her side, there was a sudden chirping sound.

  Adele hesitated. The chirping was soon accompanied by a buzzing noise. Then another one. Three ring tones echoed in the room. Adele, Paige, and Robert all glanced down at their pockets, fishing their phones out.

  It was as if, for the moment, a spell was broken.

  Adele stared at her phone, then answered. As she listened, she could feel the blood leaving her face. After a moment, she closed her phone.

  “Told you we were wasting our time,” Paige said, growling. She turned and stomped out of the room, and Adele heard her hit the elevator button.

  Adele stood in Robert’s office for a moment, glancing at her old mentor. “Third,” she said, nearly breathlessly. “A third murder.”

  Robert stared back. “You want me to come with you on this one?”

  Adele hesitated, a numb prickle across her skin as the anger and shock continued to course through her. “Yeah,” she said at last. “Couldn’t hurt to have your eyes. They haven’t moved the body.”

  Robert nodded. “Let me get my jacket.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Adele stood in the quiet, cloistered apartment complex, allowing the silence to speak to her in pauses and stuttered breaths. This unit was more rundown than the last and occupied a more affordable part of the city. Adele’s eyes flicked to the open door yawning into the hall. A single chrome locking chain dangled toward the floor, swaying back and forth. Adele stared at the chain and then glanced over to the body.

  She was young. No more than early twenties. Her throat slit in the same way as the other victims. The pool of blood spread out around her in the hallway. Adele stepped down the hall past Robert.

  Two police officers stood in the apartment door, preventing rubber necks and overly curious residents. Agent Paige postured in stony silence on the opposite side of the bathroom, regarding the floor.

  The partners had taken separate cars to the crime scene, and Adele had decided she would act as if Paige wasn’t even there. Time for the high road had faded the moment Robert had been dragged into it.

  For her part, as Adele studied the bathroom, she felt a chill trickle down her spine.

  He had dropped a third body. In less than two weeks, he had murdered three young women. Adele looked down at her phone where she’d received the woman’s preliminary information. Shiloah Watkins. Another American girl—a recent arrival on a visa de long séjour by the look of it.

  Adele studied the poor girl for a second, but then flicked her eyes away, refusing to let her emotions rear their ugly heads. Robert had often told her emotions were best reserved for commiseration, or talking with a victim’s family. But at a crime scene, they only distracted.

  It was hard to completely suppress them, though, especially with Agent Paige lingering nearby like a ghoulish shadow. Adele avoided looking at the gray-haired agent and tried to completely block her out as she scanned the body once more.

  No sign of struggle. No defensive wounds. Nothing under the fingernails. Nothing to suggest she’d been alarmed, or even scared. How was he doing it? How was the killer gaining their trust? How was he getting in?

  She glanced toward the door with all the locks. There had been no forced entry. She let out a sigh of frustration and scanned the body once more.

  “Right side,” Robert grunted.

  She glanced over at the shorter agent and noticed where he was pointing. She dropped to a knee, and, faintly, with the edge of a pen she pulled from her pocket, she lifted the woman’s shirt.

  Just past the belly button, against the tanned flesh, she immediately spotted the incision. “Missing kidney,” she said. “Right one. Same as the others.”

  Paige moved closer and peered down at the body. “Any sign of it?” she asked in a cool tone.

  Robert had already departed and Adele could hear him in the kitchen now; the fridge door opened, by the sound of things, then the freezer. Then Robert called from the other room, “No. He took it with him, like the last two. There’s no reason he would leave it behind.”

  Adele stepped into the hall and peered toward the kitchen. “Trophy hunting?” she called out. “It’s starting to feel like something different. Why the same kidney every time? What’s he doing with them?”

  The question lingered in the air, unanswered. Adele had her own theories bouncing around her mind. But no confirmation. Nothing beyond theory and three dead girls.

  Adele got back to her feet, pushing off her knee and emitting a quiet whooshing sound. She stared down at the body, trying to focus.

  “Only twenty-two years old,” said Adele, swallowing. “She got here three days ago. Three days. How did the killer stalk her? How did he figure out where she lived? There’s no way he could’ve established a friendship, a rapport, over three days, is there? Unless she knew him from before. Maybe he’s an exchange student,” Adele said suddenly, opening her eyes.

  Robert appeared down the hall again. “Possibly.” He looked pensive as he approached.

  For her part, Paige’s eyes were fixated on the young girl’s face. Adele was reminded that Paige had five children of her own. She wondered about their ages.

  “I’ll be back,” Paige said through tight lips. Pale-faced, she moved hurriedly out of the bathroom, down the hall, and out the apartment door.

  Adele shared a look with Robert and her mentor shrugged once. They both turned back to the body. Now that Paige had left the bathroom, Adele felt she could focus a bit better. She scanned the tiled room. Only a single container of soap, but no shampoo.

  She pointed it out. “Didn’t have time to shop?” she asked, glancing at Robert.

  He was studying the shower and the sink. “Newly moved in,” he said. “She doesn’t seem the neglectful sort. Had vegetables and fruit in the fridge.”

  “Right. Good little Ame
rican girl. But a lot of locks on that door.”

  Robert glanced over. “I’d noticed. Do you think that’s the sort of thing a young girl considers?”

  Adele shrugged. “I suppose so. Especially if you’re new to a city.”

  But Robert hesitated. “A college girl, bold enough and brave enough to come to another country to study. Do you think the first thought she might have is her own safety? I’m not saying it’s not important. But do you think that’s the first thought she would have when arriving? To find a place that would be safe? A place with excess locks on the doors?”

  Adele frowned. “What are you getting at?”

  “I’m saying, for someone like this, not all the decisions were made by her. Protective parents?” he said. “Maybe a protective boyfriend?”

  Adele hesitated, then ran her eyes over the bathroom once more. “Protective might mean sheltered. Sheltered might mean we’re dealing with someone who wasn’t used to the real world. Didn’t know how things were supposed to go. Maybe too trusting.”

  Robert pursed his lips. “Trusting. You think it cost her? She’s only been here three days. How did the killer get in? No struggle; did you check the fingernails?”

  “The first thing I looked at,” said Adele. “No defensive wounds. He crept up from behind. Was he maybe waiting for her? Had a key? Did you run files on the landlord from the last place?”

  Robert nodded once. “Nothing besides a few parking tickets.”

  “So how is he getting in?”

  Adele glanced around the bathroom once more but then paused, frowning. She noted a towel hanging over the rack, but a small pool of water in the center of the bathroom floor between the tub and the sink.

  “Look at that.” She pointed.

  Robert followed her attention, frowning at the puddle.

  Adele appreciated that he didn’t ask what she was talking about. The moment she pointed it out, she knew he would detect the anomaly too.