by Blake Pierce
He was watching her also, one dull eye not quite reflecting the light above. The other twinkling.
He wasn’t even handcuffed, his fingers splayed in front of him on the table. He moved his hands cautiously, carefully, treating his fingers as items of great value, the way he glanced at them or twirled them against the table.
Now, as she faced him, cold and motionless, his hands stopped moving. He left them on the table, resting there.
“Hello, Adele,” the man said, quietly.
She recognized him. Of course she did. He had more hair than the last time they’d spoken. But it was unmistakable. His features were cold, pallid, his eyes mismatched. He was small, frail even. His fingers were twiggy, brittle almost. Even as he shifted in the chair to face her, he moved with lithe motions, like some stray cat slipping through a chain fence.
He stared at her now, watching her, his eyes darting up and down. For a moment, she thought he was ogling her like some pervert.
She’d experienced this sort of attention before from the more lascivious members of society.
But after a moment, she realized his eyes weren’t settling on the usual suspects. Rather, his gaze darted to her ear, flashing as if cataloging. They moved to her hands, then her hair, then down her legs and up again.
At last, he leaned back, sighing as if satisfaction.
“Magnifique,” he murmured.
She opened her mouth to reply, but found she didn’t want to. Perhaps couldn’t. What was there to say to this monster? This man who had murdered her mother. Who had murdered Robert. This man who had tormented her, hunted her. This monster.
He’d turned himself in…
She waited, still watching, but he just watched her back, clearly enjoying the sight judging by the small smile now curving the corners of his lips.
“Stop grinning,” she growled. Her voice sounded weak in her own ears. Why hadn’t they even cuffed the bastard?
He was here to turn himself in for her mother’s murder. Wasn’t that what the officer had told her over the phone?
So why was he just sitting there, all pleased with himself?
His smile flashed now, wider. Some of his teeth looked oddly bright as if they’d been replaced or treated with one too many whitening strips.
“Why are you here?” she demanded at last. Even talking to him made her skin crawl. The last time they’d interacted had been beneath a bridge. She’d made promises then. Promises to herself.
He’d managed to escape then. But there were no rivers to jump into now. No escape plans.
Or were there?
Instead of answering her question, the painter just watched her, tilting his head ever so slightly, a curious, almost boyish expression on his face.
“Why are you here?” she said, louder now, snarling.
Someone began to pull the interrogation room door open behind her, but she shot her hand out, snatched the handle, and slammed it shut. The person on the other side didn’t try again.
The painter continued waiting, folding his hands now, still smiling. So much could be seen in a smile. He clearly knew this. He knew he was taunting her. He was enjoying it.
How many times had he considered this moment?
He’d been sick for a long time, pursuing her for years now.
He’d taken a shot at her father, at John. He’d hunted everything she’d loved out of his sick desire to dismantle her life one piece at a time. One brick torn down, then another, and another.
Now they were face to face, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
Adele took a step forward, toward the interrogation room table. “Why did you turn yourself in. Say something! Say it!”
He just watched her. Though they were in an interrogation room, though they were trapped together, Adele couldn’t shake the sensation they were doing this on his terms.
As she frowned at him, she noticed his fingers. All of them, spread wide. The ten digits jutting each way. The motion seemed intentional somehow. Ten? Ten what?
She blinked…
And then it hit her like a truck.
Ten years.
More than ten years since he’d murdered her mother.
The statute of limitations in France was up…
She’d always known the only way to prosecute the monster would have been to indict him for more recent murders.
“You think you’re clever,” she murmured, glaring at his splayed fingers. “You killed Robert, too. That’s within the limitations. I’m going to send you to hell, understand me? You’re going away forever.”
The killer just smirked now, his smile turning to a grin. “Proof?” he murmured.
She blinked, staring at him.
She’d known Robert had been killed by this little monster. He’d teased her about it in the past. But… there hadn’t been any physical evidence at the crime scene. He was always careful. He never left anything behind.
“So that’s it?” she said, snarling. “You think you’re clever? Think you can play? You think you’ll turn yourself in for my mother’s murder and we won’t prosecute, because ten years is up? Is that it? Is this some sort of game to you? You think we don’t have evidence you were involved in Robert’s death? Hmm? We do! We have evidence!”
He just looked at her for a moment. Then shook his head. “I know your tells, Adele. I know you. You have nothing. Because I didn’t do it. Some copycat must have.”
Adele just stared at him, gaping.
“I know the error of my ways,” he said, nodding but still grinning. “Ten years ago, I reformed. I’ve never harmed again.”
“You attacked my father!” she yelled. “He can identify you.”
“Oh? You mean in Germany?” he said, his voice lilting. “This is France, Adele. We don’t extradite.” He placed a hand over his heart. “Viva la France.”
As he spoke, it was beginning to make sense. The little runt had always been bold. She couldn’t fault him for that. He’d once bought the apartment across from hers just to watch her, right under her nose.
The statute of limitations was up on her mother’s murder. There wasn’t physical evidence tying him to Robert’s murder. And the attack in Germany wouldn’t concern French authorities. They didn’t extradite French citizens.
The man continued watching her, beaming now as if reading her thoughts.
“You think you’ve won, hmm?” Adele said, breathing heavily. “You think you’ve beaten me?”
He didn’t say anything, still smiling, clearly enjoying himself.
“You’re making a mistake. Let me tell you—right now. You are making a mistake. You think you know me? You think you know what I’ll do?”
He nodded once, but continued his silence.
She snarled. “You were much more talkative the last time we met. What happened? Cat got your tongue? Are you scared, little man? You look scared to me.”
She wasn’t even sure why she was goading him. It wasn’t a tactic. She was simply furious. She’d never felt so much rage in her life. Now she understood what it might be like to be a murderer. In that moment, she didn’t care what happened to her, just so long as he suffered.
But even then, amidst the rage, the shock, the fury, the dawning realization of it all, she knew she was missing something.
Why was he just watching her, smirking… as if he were waiting for something? Waiting for what, though?
And then her phone began to ring.
Now the little man looked practically euphoric, leaning in now, grinning so widely she thought his face might split. “I think that’s for you,” he murmured, pointing toward her pocket. “I will wait. No worries.”
Adele kept her expression cold, emotionless. For a moment, out of spite, she considered letting the phone go to voicemail. But the ringing sound seemed to have prompted something in the small man. Almost as if he’d been waiting for this very thing.
So, still glaring daggers at the killer, she reached her hand into her pocket and, realizing her f
ingers were trembling so badly she almost dropped the device, she lifted it with help from her other hand.
The killer stared pointedly at her shaking fingers—he wanted her to know he saw her fear. He wanted her to feel exposed, vulnerable. Now he did ogle her chest. He licked his lips and winked. She felt exposed, even in a precinct, with backup outside the door. She felt a shiver along her spine. Felt a sense of helplessness she had when she’d first heard about her mother.
She turned, facing the door for a moment, answering the phone.
“What?” she said, her voice shaky as well.
“Adele,” said a voice on the other end. It took her a moment to place the voice.
“Lee?” she replied, breathily. Supervising Agent Lee Grant had been the first person to approve the Interpol assignment as a liaison between the agencies. The FBI head was a bit older than Adele, but was also a friend.
“Adele, hey—I’m calling as a courtesy. We got a case over here. The victim’s name pinged as a contact of yours.”
Adele swallowed. She could feel the small man’s eyes fixed on her from behind. Could feel her heart hammering wildly. Could feel the hesitation in the voice on the other line.
A victim? Why was the FBI calling her? Grant was based in California…
Adele turned slowly, frowning at where the painter was sitting, hands crossed now, smiling still. A small, pink tongue probed out, licking his bottom lip faintly before retreating back into his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she said, distractedly. “What?”
“Do you know an Angus McClure?” said Agent Lee quietly. “He’s currently living in your old apartment.”
“I—I gave the apartment to him,” said Adele. “Wait—hang on…” A prickle spread across her skin, starting along her hands and moving up toward her throat. Her ears were buzzing and for a moment, she couldn’t hear very well.
“I’m afraid it’s bad news, Adele. I’m really, really sorry, honey. Angus was found murdered this morning. It’s a mess. I won’t go into details, but I can send the report over if you’d like. Do you have any idea who might have done this? We’re pulling a blank on the scene.”
Adele didn’t reply. She just lowered the phone, clicking it off. The call didn’t matter now. Angus… Angus was dead. She felt a sob coming to her lips, but spit instead. Hell would freeze over before she let this monster watch her cry. But still, her emotions were a mess, her insides whirring. She could only imagine the horrors that had been done to her old boyfriend. She’d thought they were going to get married. She’d once envisioned a life with him.
Now he was dead too.
Like the rest.
She stared at the small man who was still watching her, like a child examining a worm before raising a magnifying lens to the sun.
He’d done it.
Of course he had.
He’d flown to the US, killed her ex-fiancé, returned, and had turned himself in just so he could watch her. So he could see her reaction.
Worse… he was still smiling, one dull eye unseeing, the other seeing everything.
In his gaze, besides the delight of a pure sadist, besides the enjoyment of the moment, she also saw a cold certainty.
He knew he would get off scot-free for killing her mother and Robert and Angus. All of them were innocent. None of them deserved any of that.
Three victims tied to her. Three more dead.
They had suffered. But the one guilty for it, sitting across from her—he wouldn’t suffer a thing. The French wouldn’t extradite to Germany or America. They’d proven it in the past. The statute had run out on her mother. Robert’s case had no evidence.
He’d planned it all. He’d known it all along. And now, sitting across from her, he watched the horrified realization play across her face, still grinning that infuriating little smirk of his.
He’d killed everyone else, but left her alive. She hadn’t protected them, hadn’t saved them. She was guilty, too, but he let her live. Perhaps that was why. In a way, their blood was also on her hands. Her incompetence. Her inability to catch the monster.
She let out a soft breath and slowly approached the table, sliding into the chair across from him, placing her own hands on the table and staring over her knuckles at where the monster sat.
She’d suspected all along it might come down to this.
She’d known it.
He would escape. He’d keep tormenting her until either she was dead…
Or he was.
The path forward seemed clear now.
She swallowed once, facing the man who’d ripped her life to shreds and, in a ghost of a voice, barely above a whisper, not even making eye contact, she stared at the table and said, “This isn’t going to end how you think. I get it now. I understand. You want to play the game your way?”
She looked up, feeling liquid rage bruiting through her bloodstream. “All right,” she murmured. “We’ll play it your way.”
NOW AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER!
LEFT TO LURE
(An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book 12)
“When you think that life cannot get better, Blake Pierce comes up with another masterpiece of thriller and mystery! This book is full of twists and the end brings a surprising revelation. I strongly recommend this book to the permanent library of any reader that enjoys a very well written thriller.”
--Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (re Almost Gone)
LEFT TO LURE is book #12 in a new FBI thriller series featuring Adele Sharp (the series begins with LEFT TO DIE, book #1) by USA Today bestselling author Blake Pierce, whose #1 bestseller Once Gone (a free download) has received over 1,000 five star reviews.
A body is found strung up at the Leaning Tower of Pisa, leaving the local police baffled, and assuming it’s an isolated incident. Until tragedy strikes again, at an equally unusual setting.
FBI Agent Adele Sharp, haunted by the resurfacing of her mother’s killer, is called into investigate this unsual serial killer, as he crosses borders into other countries and evades all the police. But what is the connection between all the victims? Is this killer more psychotic than she thought? And can she piece together the clues, enter his mind, and unravel the mystery before more innocent lives are lost?
An action-packed mystery series of international intrigue and riveting suspense, LEFT TO LURE will leave you turning pages late into the night.
Book #13 in the series—LEFT TO CRAVE—is now also available!
LEFT TO LURE
(An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book 12)
Did you know that I've written multiple novels in the mystery genre? If you haven't read all my series, click the image below to download a series starter!
Blake Pierce
Blake Pierce is the USA Today bestselling author of the RILEY PAGE mystery series, which includes seventeen books. Blake Pierce is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE mystery series, comprising fourteen books; of the AVERY BLACK mystery series, comprising six books; of the KERI LOCKE mystery series, comprising five books; of the MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE mystery series, comprising six books; of the KATE WISE mystery series, comprising seven books; of the CHLOE FINE psychological suspense mystery, comprising six books; of the JESSE HUNT psychological suspense thriller series, comprising nineteen books; of the AU PAIR psychological suspense thriller series, comprising three books; of the ZOE PRIME mystery series, comprising six books; of the ADELE SHARP mystery series, comprising thirteen books, of the EUROPEAN VOYAGE cozy mystery series, comprising four books; of the new LAURA FROST FBI suspense thriller, comprising six books (and counting); of the new ELLA DARK FBI suspense thriller, comprising nine books (and counting); of the A YEAR IN EUROPE cozy mystery series, comprising nine books, of the AVA GOLD mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); and of the RACHEL GIFT mystery series, comprising six books (and counting).
ONCE GONE (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1), BEFORE HE KILLS (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1), CAUSE TO KILL (An Avery Black Mystery—Book 1), A TRA
CE OF DEATH (A Keri Locke Mystery—Book 1), WATCHING (The Making of Riley Paige—Book 1), NEXT DOOR (A Chloe Fine Psychological Suspense Mystery—Book 1), THE PERFECT WIFE (A Jessie Hunt Psychological Suspense Thriller—Book One), IF SHE KNEW (A Kate Wise Mystery—Book 1), MURDER (AND BAKLAVA) (A European Voyage Cozy Mystery—Book 1), LEFT TO DIE (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book One), and A MURDER IN PARIS (A Year in Europe—Book 1) are each available as a free download on Amazon!
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
BOOKS BY BLAKE PIERCE
RACHEL GIFT MYSTERY SERIES
HER LAST WISH (Book #1)
HER LAST CHANCE (Book #2)
HER LAST HOPE (Book #3)
HER LAST FEAR (Book #4)
HER LAST CHOICE (Book #5)
HER LAST BREATH (Book #6)
AVA GOLD MYSTERY SERIES
CITY OF PREY (Book #1)
CITY OF FEAR (Book #2)
CITY OF BONES (Book #3)
CITY OF GHOSTS (Book #4)
CITY OF DEATH (Book #5)
CITY OF VICE (Book #6)
A YEAR IN EUROPE
A MURDER IN PARIS (Book #1)
DEATH IN FLORENCE (Book #2)
VENGEANCE IN VIENNA (Book #3)
A FATALITY IN SPAIN (Book #4)
ELLA DARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
GIRL, ALONE (Book #1)
GIRL, TAKEN (Book #2)
GIRL, HUNTED (Book #3)
GIRL, SILENCED (Book #4)
GIRL, VANISHED (Book 5)
GIRL ERASED (Book #6)
GIRL, FORSAKEN (Book #7)
GIRL, TRAPPED (Book #8)
GIRL, EXPENDABLE (Book #9)
