Left To Die

Adele paused in the doorway of the police station, letting a couple of officers past, both who glanced at her with mildly confused expressions. She ignored them as she stared out into the street. The same ominous shudder she’d felt back at the DGSI headquarters crept up her spine—the same sense of foreboding, like a gust of chill breeze.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The man sat on the floor, leaning against the footrest of the grandfather chair, resting his head against the seat. He preferred the floor; chairs like this one were too comfortable. But he couldn’t give it up. It had once belonged to his aunt, and she’d been kind to him once upon a time.

Still, comfort was for the weak.

The man stared at the TV screen, watching the events unfold.

A shakily held cell phone captured the moment when the chemist was escorted from his house in handcuffs.

A very tall agent with burn marks just below his chin was glaring at everyone within sight. A special glare was reserved for whoever was holding the camera.

The seated man returned the glare on the TV screen.

Next to the tall agent, he recognized the woman in the neat suit with the pretty, blonde hair.

“Agent Sharp,” he murmured, tipping his head in mock greeting.

She was in Germany. The man kept his calm for a moment, counting in his head, but then his emotions bubbled over and he screamed, launching the remote at the glass cabinet across the room. He howled, cursing at the ceiling as the sound of shattered glass only further sparked his rage.

With heaving, huffing breaths, he managed to regain control of his temper, glaring toward the TV once more.

How had they followed him? He thought he’d been careful. Reaching the US had been easy enough. He’d traveled to Canada first, and then slipped through the border. It wasn’t his first time.

Avoiding detection in France had been even easier; a matter of false papers. The government thought they were so clever. Yet in Germany, the US, and France, teenagers with fake IDs could fool even the most attentive of bartenders.

His tastes weren’t so predictable as a teenager in search of a buzz, but fake papers on a train from France to Germany were far easier to procure with the right connections. The man rarely traveled by plane if he could help it.

The man leaned back again, resting his head against the cushioned footrest.

The US had been a delightful vacation, but future sojourns would be relegated to Europe. The man nodded, settling the matter in that moment with the simple bob of his head. The options were far better in Europe: bus, train, hitching a ride, driving…

The US border was too difficult to cross and getting more and more difficult with each passing month. No, his vacation had been cut short.

The man crossed his legs and pulled up the hem of his shirt, glancing down at his stomach and flexing his abdomen.

He couldn’t quite make out the ridge of his muscles, and with a flare of annoyance, he quickly swiveled, placing his feet under the edge of the grandfather chair as he began to do sit-ups, grunting with each one and flexing his abdomen at the peak, holding the position until pain set in, and then releasing it and lowering down.

He listened as the news continued to announce the arrest of the chemist from Lion Pharmaceutical.

Of course, he knew all about the company.

They were closing in. This Agent Sharp was better than he’d thought. She couldn’t have possibly tracked him by papers, so how had she found him in Germany?

“She hasn’t,” he said out loud, answering his own thought. He grunted again as he reached the pinnacle of his sit up, then lowered back once more. He shot off another twenty rapid sit-ups—then thirty—then forty.

He could feel a sweat breaking across his forehead and limbs, but he pushed himself, straining.

Youth required sacrifice. Longevity required commitment. Youth was wasted on the young. But it was a currency he would spend wisely.

He’d avoided vacationing in Germany; it was too close to home. But perhaps he could make an exception just this once. For a special person.

He reached his morning hundred, then stopped the exercise. Gasping, sweating, he pushed off his chair and went over to the kitchen table, retrieving his laptop from where he’d placed it on a counter. It took him a moment to boot up the thing, but then he stared at the blank screen displaying the search engine.

Everything was available on the internet nowadays.

That chemist’s arrest had been captured by some neighbor’s dinky camera. People fancied themselves reporters, though, really, they were in it for a buck.

The man sneered, wrinkling his nose in disgust. How many times had he seen videos of someone being beaten up, while fifty people surrounded them, instead of helping, videotaping the whole ordeal.

Humans were revolting.

This new one, this Agent Sharp… she was pretty. Not that it mattered. She was young, but not young enough.

Twenty-three was where he’d left off, and twenty-three was where he would need to start again.

He quivered in delight at the thought: how young could he go?

He’d never thought of exerting his routine over a teenager…Even a child? The possibilities were endless. But he could feel his strength rising. Every time one of them perished at his feet, bleeding out, he could feel part of them enter him. He didn’t believe in immortality, but with the advances in science and medicine, he planned to make it to at least two hundred. And that required sacrifice.

Agent Sharp had to go. She was too close, too clever for her own good.

Anything could be found online.

He typed in her name, scanning articles. He paused for a moment, struggling to remember what his host family had mentioned back in the US.

He grunted in satisfaction as the memory clicked. “Adele,” he said, quietly. He licked his lips and kissed the air. He typed “Adele Sharp” into the search engine and pressed enter. A split second later, he scanned the results and then stopped.

A German article, an interview, conducted with a Joseph Sharp. But what did that have to do with—

He froze as he scanned the article. Some bullshit thing honoring police veterans interviewed about their lives. Joseph Sharp worked for the police in Germany. The article was from more than a decade ago. His French daughter had won some sort of track and field meet in college, and there were rumors that she was planning on joining the German police. At least, that’s what it sounded like Joseph Sharp expected.

He continued to scan the article. Joseph was still working in Germany. In fact, he wasn’t far from here.

“Adele Sharp,” the man said, quietly. “You wish to hunt me in my home?”

The old article still had a picture of Mr. Sharp, and had printed his address in the article. Ten years ago, people weren’t so careful on the internet.

The article was nearly a decade old, but the information, would it still prove useful?

The man smiled, slowly lowering his hands from the computer. Perhaps it was time he paid Adele Sharp’s father a visit.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

It had been a long walk from the bus stop, but Adele was sick of vehicles. Planes, limousines, cars, she was starting to feel like Robert.

Adele wasn’t frustrated. No, she had passed frustration weeks ago. They were in a holding pattern once more. The BKA had reluctantly agreed to investigate the other members of Peter Lehman’s team; double-checking their alibis and whereabouts. But Adele wasn’t hopeful it would pay off.