“Get off him!”Adele shouted. Then she fired.
Masse loosed acry of terror. Hernandez, though, grunted in pain, spinning like a top andslamming into the ground next to the agent he’d tackled.
“First one isthe arm,” Adele snapped, weapon trained on Hernandez. “Keep struggling and thenext is going in your chest, understand?”
The sound ofcursing and crying faded from Jason’s direction where he rolled back and forth,his teeth flashing as they gritted in pain, and he pressed his head against therough sidewalk. Rivulets of red stained his fingers. Every few moments he wouldlook away from his injured arm and turn toward his steaming truck, shaking hishead with a renewed anguish.
Adele sighed,then put her hand to her battery-powered field radio. “We’re going to needmedical,” she said.
She glancedbetween her partner, who was still shakily getting to his feet, and Hernandez’swrithing form. She sighed again. “Better make it two.” Then, with a roll of hereyes, she approached Jason, handcuffs emerging from her belt.
CHAPTER TWO
Adele loosed anexplosive gust of breath, listening to the quiet creak of hinges as herapartment door closed behind her. Four hours of ridiculous paperwork andinterviews later, Adele was glad to be back home.
She flipped alight switch and peered into the cramped space as she rolled her shoulders andwinced against a sudden pulse of pain. Adele glanced down at her side and, forthe first time, noticed a stain of red on her white undershirt beneath hersuit.
She frowned.Wincing again, Adele scanned her small apartment as she went to the kitchensink, resignedly untucking the front of her shirt from her belt.
A new place. Thelease only lasted two months at a time. It had been too expensive to stay inthe old apartment. After Angus left, Adele simply wasn’t paid enough to keep uprent South of Market, where Angus and his coding buddies had congregated. Now,having moved to Brisbane, she found she didn’t mind the change. It wasn’tloud—which she had her neighbors to thank for—though the place was little morethan a kitchen, a TV, and a bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. All of it, evensomehow the TV, smelled a bit of mold.
It wasn’t likeshe spent much time at home anyway.
Adele winced againas she pulled her shirt from her belt and examined the long scratch against herskin. She grimaced in recollection. A gift of the chain-link fence, no doubt.
“Damn rookies,”she muttered beneath her breath.
Agent Masse wasyoung. Only a few months out of training. Adele doubted she’d been much betteron her first collar, but still… that had been a debacle. She missed John. Lasttime they’d met, though… things had grown awkward. She remembered the late-nightswim in Robert’s private pool. The way John had leaned in, the way she’drecoiled, almost reflexively.
Adele frowned atthe thought and immediately wished she could take it back. Instead, she reachedfor a clean length of paper towel from the counter and began running hot water.She opened the cabinet over the fridge and snagged a bottle of rubbing alcohol.She dabbed it against the towel and pressed the makeshift disinfectant wipe toher ribs, wincing yet again.
She moved overto the single chair in the kitchen, pressed against the half table between thefridge and the stove, and took a seat facing the wall, dabbing thestrong-smelling paper towel against her scrape. At last, as she leaned back,she let out a long breath.
Absentmindedly,she glanced over her shoulder toward the door. Two bolts and a chain lockornamented the metal frame, remnants from the previous tenants.
The chaircreaked as she adjusted herself and leaned one elbow against the table, staringat the surface of the smooth wood. She shifted again, if only for the sake ofthe noise. The apartment was so quiet. Living with Angus, there would always bea TV show running or some podcast blaring from his room while he worked on acoding project. For the couple weeks she’d spent with Robert back in France,she would often find herself in the same room as her old mentor, enjoying hiscompany by the fire as he read a book or listened to concertos on the radio.
Now, though, inthe small, stuffy San Francisco apartment… it was all so quiet again.
Adele shiftedonce more, listening to the creak and protest of the poorly constructed chair.A phrase from her childhood, one of her father’s favorites, crossed her mind. “Simplethings please simple minds.” In a sort of phantom protest, Adele wiggled inthe chair, listening to the strangely consoling creak of wood one last time,before she gritted her teeth, still pressing her makeshift disinfectant wipeagainst her wound, and then she regained her feet and trudged down the hall.
“Bloody Renee,”she muttered.
Jason Hernandeznever would have bolted if John had been there. She missed France. After theinterview with Interpol, she’d spent some time with Robert. A nicetime—refreshing in its own way. It had given her an opportunity to look for hermother’s killer.
Adele pushedopen the bathroom door at the end of the hall and stood in front of the mirror.It was a small, cramped bathroom. The shower sufficed as Adele hadn’t taken abath in nearly six years. Showers were far more efficient. The Sergeant—herfather—likely hadn’t taken a bath his entire life.
She sighed againas she undressed and stepped into the shower, turning on the hot water, but thespray was still lukewarm. Another little flaw of the new apartment. The waterpressure wasn’t great either, but would have to do.
As Adele stoodbeneath the tepid drizzle, she closed her eyes, allowing her mind to wander,pushing past the events of the day, of the past couple of months back in theStates.
Words playedthrough her mind.
“…Honestly, it’sfunny you left Paris, you know that? Especially given where you worked.”
She sighed asthe water soaked her hair and began to drip down her nose and cheeks in slowuneven pulses, matching the temperamental jets from the showerhead. Yet shekept her eyes closed, still mulling over the words. They echoed—sometimes evenwhen she slept—resonating in her head.
That’s what thekiller had said.
Back in France.A man who’d sliced his victims and watched them bleed out, helpless and alone.She and John had caught that serial killer, but not before he had nearlymurdered her father. He’d nearly killed Adele, too.
The bastard hadworshiped her mother’s killer. Another
