CHAPTER FIVE
Adele frowned ather laptop, leaning back in the first-class seat provided to her by Interpol.The plane shuddered as it cut through the sky, but Adele had closed theadjacent blind, allowing the glow from the computer screen to illuminate thecramped portion of airplane cabin.
She foundherself twisting the strap to her laptop bag nervously where it rested in theempty seat next to her, surveying the information on the screen again. Once sheread a case file, she rarely forgot the details.
She settled in,leaning against the curving white wall of plastic, her eyes flicking fromparagraph to photo.
Two dead so far.Three days apart. A rapid pace, even for a serial killer. No physical evidenceof any sort. A missing kidney in the first victim and a pending coroner’sreport for the second. Would she also be missing a kidney?
Young women,both. Expats—Americans now living in France. Recent arrivals, too. Both killedso quickly they hadn’t even reacted. That was the only explanation for theclean nature of the cuts. No jagged slices, no signs of a struggle. One moment,the young women had been alive, in their own apartments, the next, seemingly asif by a ghost, they had been snuffed out.
Adele doubtedthe women had even seen it coming. Not much to go on—not yet anyway. Still, shekept the window blind low, listening to the churn of the engines as theyhurtled through the air. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the case file againand again… and again.
***
She’d been ableto connect to the Charles De Gaulle Airport Wi-Fi, and her eyebrows twisteddown as she looked at the most recent message from Robert Henry, her old mentorand friend. It said: Sorry, dear, I won’t be picking you up. They sentanother agent. Then he’d included a series of emojis and smiley faces.
She paused, thentyped: No problem. I’ll see you at the office. Who did they send?
No response.Adele shook her head as she exited the walkway and entered the main terminal,greeted by the odor of overpriced coffee and stale pastries from the airportrestaurants. Her eyes flicked along a series of shops; one for curio items, andanother a bookstore. Adele pushed her phone back into her pocket, movingquickly through the airport toward baggage claim. Last time, she’d been pairedwith John—likely it would happen again. But they’d left things awkward afterthe last visit. While she and Robert had messaged each other every few days inthe month since she’d been in France, John hadn’t reached out once.
Neither did you,asmall voice reminded her.
But she pushedit away with a slight shrug. She reached the baggage claim and watched as theluggage circled the metal slatted conveyor belt; she waited patiently, butstill never fully managed to shake the anticipation clotting her chest.
At last, shemanaged to retrieve her bag, waiting for a space to clear around the claim.
She foundherself brushing her hair behind her ears and straightening her outfit evenwhile she approached customs and waited for the border agent to survey herspecial detail passport and papers. Get a grip, she thought scathingly.Why was she so concerned about her appearance all of a sudden? John or not, whydid it matter? Adele was taller than most woman, but not unusually so—her long,dirty-blonde hair framed features that hinted of her French-American heritage.Exotic, some said. A single mole stippled the top of her lip, a source ofinsecurity as a teenager, but no longer.
Adele thought ofthe last night she’d seen John, swimming in Robert’s private pool on hisestate. The way John had been at the start of the evening, followed by how he’dbehaved toward the end. He had tried to kiss her, hadn’t he? Had shemisinterpreted the gesture? Whatever the case, when she’d pulled back, he’dbeen offended. He’d left shortly after.
In defiance toher burbling emotions, Adele messed her hair, intentionally disheveling herbangs. Then, setting her jaw, she wheeled her suitcase through customs and outinto the receiving area of the airport.
Her eyes scannedthe crowd, looking for the tall, lanky form of her previous French partner. Butas her gaze looked over the waiting crowd, there was no sign of John. Hersmile—which she hadn’t realized was displayed—became rather fixed as her gazesettled on a suited woman standing against the tinted glass of the windowfacing the streets outside the airport.
Her smile fadedcompletely as she recognized the woman’s pursed lips and her silver hair pulledinto a bun. The woman resembled a no-nonsense supply teacher, or perhaps a nunout of smock. Not a single strand of hair was out of place, and even thewrinkles along the edge of her eyes seemed to stretch as if attempting to standto attention.
An agent she’dworked with before… But not John.
This particularagent had been Adele’s supervisor back when she’d worked for the DGSI. She alsohad been demoted, an unfortunate scenario whose blame had been placed solely onAdele’s shoulders. Every ounce of scorn and impatience displayed itself inevery crease and glint in Agent Sophie Paige’s eyes, but at last, she raised ahand and gave a quick jerking gesture in Adele’s direction.
Not a wave, butmore a beckoning call like a master calling their pet hound. Adele stood frozenfor a moment, feeling people jostle past her as they moved to greet waitingfamily or friends. The still air swelled with laughter, the sound of bodiesembracing, the quiet murmurings of exhausted travelers retreating from theairport and hurrying with relief toward waiting cabs or cars on the curb.
For the briefestmoment, Adele had to resist the urge to turn right around and march back ontothe plane, leaving Sophie Paige and her scowl standing by the window.
But at last, shemustered up the residue of her courage, quickly brushed her hair back intoplace with furtive motions, and moved toward the waiting form of her pastsupervisor and new partner.
CHAPTER SIX
Removed fromthe center of Paris, in the northwestern suburbs of the Ile-de-France region ofthe capital, Adele kept her eyes forward as the car pulled up to the fourthfloor of the DGSI parking structure. The afternoon drive had proceeded incomplete silence; now, Agent Paige brusquely exited the vehicle, callingsomething over her shoulder about meeting with Foucault. She left Adele aloneto meander her way through security
