That man wasinsufferable. She shook her head, still glaring at her fingers.
“Everythingokay?” John said hesitantly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“It’s fine,”she said, sullenly. “Just used to the men in my life causing trouble, I guess.”
John hesitated,seemingly stuck between two options. At last, he said, “Well, I mean, I haven’tknown you nearly as long as your father, but I’m not trying to cause troublefor you if that’s what you’re implying.”
Adele lookedover and did a double take. “You, no, I wasn’t talking about you. I’m sorry.”
She shook herhead. She had been thinking of Angus. Of her father. Perhaps John. Was Johnworth the thought? It wasn’t like she knew him that well. He was unpredictable.Dangerous. He had struck a witness in front of the executive for the DGSI forcrying out loud. He’d shaken down an informant for money. He’d given the moneyto a surviving victim, but did that make it any better?
“Look,” Johnsaid, softly, “I’m not trying to cause pain. If… if this is about…” He wavedhis hand in the air between them and winced. As he spoke, it sounded like he waschoking on the words. He paused for a moment, his cheeks tinged red, and staredthrough the windshield resolutely as if determined not to look at her.
“John it’s notabout that,” Adele said, the exhaustion from a lack of sleep weighingheavily on her. “We’ll just keep it professional and friendly then, fine?”
John frowned. Hedidn’t answer one way or another, still staring out the windshield. For her ownpart, Adele wondered at the words. Was that what she really wanted?Professional? Did it matter? She allowed the silence to swell in the cabin asthey moved closer to the airport.
“I—” Hecontinued to struggle to speak as if the words were lodged in his throat. “I’mjust not the best at getting close to people, all right?”
Adele hesitated.She didn’t look at him, knowing that this would only agitate his discomfort.But as she considered his words, this brief flash of vulnerability from herotherwise stoic partner, her frown deepened into something akin to thought.
“What?” Johnasked abruptly.
She glanced athim.
“What are youthinking?” he said. “I know that look. You’re on to something? What?”
She shifteduncomfortably, adjusting the seat belt across her chest into a more comfortableposition. “It’s nothing,” she said, softly. “Nothing, not really. Except, well…”She paused. “Just what you said…”
“I am very wise,”he said, nodding.
“Funny. No,about getting close.”
John’s jawclenched and his look of discomfort returned.
But Adele beganspeaking quickly now, her eyes narrowed, fixed on the road speeding by. “It ishard to get close sometimes. Hard for a lot of people. Especially if you’removing to a new country, yes?” she asked, tilting her head.
John shrugged,seemingly still disgruntled by the vulnerability of the moment.
“It’s lonelymoving to a new country. I know it myself. It’s hard to get close. But you canmake it easier. Especially in the day of the Internet,” she said, picking uppace as she spoke, nodding to punctuate each word.
“I don’t get it,”John grunted.
She turned to himnow, staring at the side of his face. “It was obvious. All this talk aboutonline forums, about groups. We didn’t chase that trail enough. We should havefocused on it more. Expats are victims. Especially from America. Why America? I’vebeen so caught up in this trafficking angle that I lost sight of a valuableclue—both those women were members of that forum, Yankees in Paris. But whatabout the third one? Was she just another expat—a coincidence?”
Now John glancedat her, taking his eyes off the road for the briefest moment. “What are yougetting at?”
“What if thisisn’t just about them being from America? Or them needing online groups forcompany and all that. What if it’s that specific forum? Yankees inParis. A stupid name, sure. But what if it’s that group where the killer isfinding his victims? With Waters, or whatever his real name is, we thought he’dbeen contacting the woman to lure them. We thought he was just targeting expats.But what if it is that specific group?”
“You think thethird victim was a member of Yankees in Paris also?”
Adele shrugged. “It’sworth looking into.”
“It’s a shot inthe dark is what it is.”
“Well, if youask me, we’re on a lucky streak.”
Adele fished herphone from her pocket, no longer looking at John, her heart beating. It was anobvious clue. Just sitting in front of her. The sort of clue Robert would’veseen immediately. Except Robert hated computers. He hated technology. So sheshould’ve seen it. Maybe Foucault was right. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this.
She staved offthe storm of self-doubt, though, and quickly dialed Robert’s number, preparingto give instructions to her old mentor.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Back in France,they clustered in Robert’s office. Adele sat behind her own desk, and Robertbehind his. When John had followed Adele into the room, Robert’s eyebrows hadrisen slightly, but he’d made no comment besides, “Hello, Agent Renee.”
John had gruntedin return.
Now, as theydiscussed the case, John’s expression only seemed to darken. Robert shook hishead once more and said, “Look, Adele, there’s no connection. We’ve been overthat list five times. I even had Ozil from upstairs double check me. There’s noway anyone on the online form is a killer. No past convictions, nothingsuspicious. No connections with the victims outside the internet. But,” he heldup a single finger, like a judge’s gavel, preparing for a pronouncement. “Youwere right. That woman, the third victim, she wasn’t in the group, but she’dbeen sent an invite. There is a connection there at least.”
Adelestraightened her posture and tried to wipe the sleep from her eyes with theback of her hand. She stared at Robert. “Yankees in Paris sent an invite toShiloah Watkins?”
“The one and thesame,” Robert said with a quick nod.
John crossed hisarms from where he stood by the window between the two desks. “This is over,”he said. “Your killer, whoever he is, was either shot back at that
