He extended hishands like he was weighing a scale and shrugged at the end of it. “The chancesof him getting away are slim. We may not be able to find exactly who he is,” hesaid, “but I’ll bet my bottom dollar that he’s either dead or in custody.”
Adele studiedthe tall man, her mind flashing back to images of him moving into the facilityin tandem with the special operations unit. He’d moved so seamlessly. He was aman built for violence. She wasn’t sure why this bothered her, and at the sametime, it gave her a level of comfort.
She sighed andshook her head. “You could be right. There’s no doubt in my mind that you couldbe one hundred percent correct. Could. But what if you’re not? What ifhe got away?” She interlocked her fingers, cracking her knucklesabsentmindedly. “Did you see how big that place was? The number of peopleworking at that facility? The hundreds of containers?”
John glared. “Sowhat?”
Adele shrugged. “Seemslike they had no shortage of supply of victims. Homeless, the destitute—whystart going after higher profile targets? The expats are vulnerable, butconspicuous. Why jeopardize their operation by committing such public murders?Not only that—they only took the kidneys. I’m not sure how theirgrotesque business model works, but…” She cleared her throat, considered thethought, but then didn’t finish the sentence, allowing the men to fill in theblanks themselves.
John tapped hisforehead against the glass a couple of times, bending over slightly to do so,keeping his hands at his hips in a posture of frustration. “You’re notlistening,” he said. “Whoever this killer is, he’s done. Done. Understand?Besides, listen to what Robert said, there’s no one they suspect. No one withpriors. No one who had connections to the three women. Yes, a couple of theadministrators on the online board would’ve known their names, but we’ve vettedthem.”
John looked atRobert and raised an eyebrow as if seeking confirmation.
The older mentornodded once. “You’re not wrong, we have. The moderators who contacted themurdered women, other than Melissa Robinson, are both women in their sixties.They also have no past convictions and airtight alibis on the days the victimswere murdered. One of them was even in London.”
Adele shrugged. “Maybeit’s not someone in the group. But someone getting their information fromthe group. I don’t know. But I have to be sure.”
“And how exactlydo you plan on doing that?” John demanded.
Adele shifted,then clasped her hands in front of her. Her eyes were heavy, and her eyelidsfelt like sandpaper. She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, to get overwith it. But, at the same time, she wouldn’t let this killer get away. He didn’tdeserve her complacency. John might think the operation in Germany would catchhim up, like a fish in a net. But she felt otherwise. This killer was nominnow. She was starting to suspect he might not even have been involved withthe organ traffickers at all. But if not, what was he doing with the kidneys?
In a ghost of avoice, Adele said, “We’re on a clock here, gentlemen. The killer strikes everyfew days. He’s due for another kill—soon. I can only think of one way tolure him out for sure. It’s risky,” she said, shrugging, “But like I said, we’reout of time. And if, like John thinks, he’s already caught, or is going to be,then we shouldn’t have to worry about anything. But if he’s still out there…” Shetrailed off.
Now it wasn’tjust John frowning at her, but Robert too. His trimmed eyebrows rose over thetop of his computer and he leaned over, staring at her across the room.
“I’m going topose as an expat,” Adele said. She nodded with finality. “It’s the only way. I’mgoing to pretend to be new to Paris. I’ll make a cover story, something he can’tresist. Hell, I’ll even post my address.”
“Your address?”said Robert through thin lips.
She looked athim and shook her head quickly. “Not your place. I’ve already talked withFoucault. He’s willing to give me a safe house for a couple of days, just tosee if it works. He didn’t like the idea at first either. But he knew I wasright. We’re against the clock. We can’t have another body drop.” John andRobert were now frowning so hard Adele could barely make out their eyes frombeneath their eyebrows. Both of them began shaking their heads at nearly thesame moment.
“No,” John said,“that’s stupid. You’re just putting yourself in danger.”
Robert didn’tsay anything, but he echoed John’s sentiments with his scowl.
Adele shrugged. “Whatis it? Either he’s captured or dead, or he’s still out there. Why would I be indanger if he’s captured?”
John huffed, hishands jammed in his pockets. “You’re playing with fire, Sharp. This is stupid.”
Adele shrugged. “Imean, I wasn’t planning on going there alone. That’s just what he’s going tothink. That is, if you’re willing to spare another day from your superimportant embezzlement case.”
John, with firein his eyes, glared at Adele. “You’re damn right I’m gonna be there.” He turnedaway, muttering beneath his breath about stupid Americans and their stupidplans.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
He whistledsoftly, allowing the notes to calm his mood. It wasn’t going to work. The lastvolunteer who’d been interested in donating to save his father couldn’t be metwith. Her routine was too erratic. Her housemates were always home. No, it wasa bust.
The young manglared at his computer. He stood, rather than sat. He knew well enough theproblems with circulation if someone sat too long. He was nothing if nothealth-conscious, especially given what had happened to his father.
What hadhappened?
He glanced overhis shoulder toward the couch where his father sat watching TV. He smiled inthe old man’s direction, still whistling, still humming, and giving a littlewave.
His father wavedback.
“Soon,” theyoung man said, loud enough for both of them to hear. He saw his father nod, asleepy expression on his face.
The young manwinced and reached down, pressing his fingers against the tender portion of hisabdomen. It would be fine. He would be fine. His father would be fine. Heclicked through the computer, scanning the information
