The hunt was on.
***
First class, no layovers. This was the life. Or, at least, it would have been if not for the bloody pictures of carnage splayed across her upright tray. Adele studied the crime scene photos, listening to the hum of the jet engines and—every so often—glancing up to make sure flight attendants weren’t passing by. She’d learned the hard way, a few years ago, the impact some of these photos had on the general public.
Causing another flight attendant to faint over the Atlantic? Not ideal.
Adele shifted, sliding along the cushioned backrest to shield some of the photos from view. Mr. and Mrs. Beneveti had been found two days ago, pieces scattered around a grove of trees. Mr. and Mrs. Hanes, the Swiss couple, had disappeared nearly a week before that, and had yet to be discovered.
Hundreds of miles separated the two missing couples. Their only connection: wealth, influence, and the Alps.
Adele’s brow wrinkled and she reached out, taking a sip from her ice water, then returning it to the cup holder. She issued a long breath, the sound lost in the whir from the overhead air conditioning nozzle. She tapped her fingers on the edge of her tray, bending one of the photos that refused to sit flat.
“A bear attack?” she murmured to herself, allowing the question to permeate her atmosphere.
It didn’t seem so. Not according to the prelim report—though they were still waiting on the medical examiner. And yet, a quick online search made it abundantly clear that the public was still convinced brown bears had returned in force to the Alps. But there were no bite marks, and a few portions that looked like they’d been caused by raking claws could easily have been caused by a hatchet or an axe as well. Some of the cuts were jagged—true… a rusted axe, perhaps. A blunt machete?
Adele winced at the thought of the couple huddled together in the frigid woods, out for a daytime ski trip, only to be set upon by…
By what? By whom?
Adele scanned the photos again, cataloging the information. There were FBI agents much smarter than her, others who were more connected, and still others with a greater natural talent. But there were very few who worked harder than she did; who paid attention to the details.
The devil was in the details. And, by the looks of things, also in the Alps.
CHAPTER FIVE
The vehicle they’d sent for her pulled up to the Wolfsschluct Resort, and, thanking her driver, Adele stepped out of the car, grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs and take in the fresh air. From within, the driver called out. “Need directions?”
Adele glanced back and gave a faint shake of her head. “No, thank you—I have someone coming to meet me.”
The driver waved, already turning back to face the road. Adele retrieved her own luggage; she’d never liked making her driver do it, though some agents thought of it as a perk.
With her rolling suitcase gripped in one hand, she stood in the roundabout at the heart of the resort. When she’d first heard of the Wolfsschluct Resort, she’d initially pictured a hotel with a couple of ski slopes, maybe an indoor pool or two. But what confronted her now seemed more like an entire village peppered with snow and surrounded on all sides by the most pristine scenery she’d ever laid eyes on.
As she stood at the edge of the roundabout, just below the curb of the largest hotel, she took in the array of blue glass windows and quaint buildings lining the street, leading up to the mountain pass where cottages and hotel wings and outbuildings were cradled by the snow-tipped mountains and spattering of greenery. There was even a chapel made of stone, and an insulated water tower proudly displaying the resort’s name.
Her father would’ve called it a God moment. The beauty alone was mesmerizing—the perfect blend of human endeavor and natural art.
Adele glanced down at her suitcase, realigning her thoughts, trying to focus on why she was here.
“Hello!” a voice called from within the heart of the hotel before her. The building seemed to be made more of glass than walls, as if the architects hadn’t wanted to waste any opportunity to display the beauty of the Alps.
Adele turned toward the sliding doors which had opened to reveal a young woman—no older than twenty-one—standing in the doorway and waving cheerfully at Adele.
Adele smiled, recognizing the woman. Her hair was much shorter than the last time they’d met—almost shaved, in fact. Everything about the young woman suggested cleanliness and order. She wore a black suit and boots that seemed to glint from the sheer amount of polish. Her eyes were bright and eager and she waved at Adele, but then stopped the gesture halfway through the motion and nodded in greeting, as if worried her eagerness might be perceived as unprofessional.
“Hello,” the woman said again as Adele approached, stepping onto the sidewalk and trundling her suitcase in one hand while hefting her laptop bag in the other. “I’m Agent Beatrice Marshall,” she said with a dip of her shaved head. She spoke nearly perfect English, with only the faintest hint of an accent.
Adele nodded in return. “I know,” she replied, also in English. “We’ve worked together before.”
Agent Marshall’s smile returned at this. “I remember! I just wasn’t sure if you did, Agent Sharp. It’s a pleasure to be working with you again.”
“Likewise. So…” Adele’s tone turned somber and she paused in the glass doorway of the impressive hotel. The atrium was a combination of lacquered wooden beams and natural stone. A small waterfall spilled with gentle ripples into a pond by the counter. A man in a gold and maroon uniform nodded politely at the two women in greeting, but then returned his attention to a computer behind the check-in counter.
“So…?” Agent Marshall echoed. “I can show you to your room if you like.”
Adele paused. “That would be ideal. This is the resort where the couple went missing, yes?”
The BKA agent’s nose wrinkled and she nodded once. “They were found only a couple miles from here by one of the mountain rescue teams. They’re on standby if you wish to speak with them.”
Adele considered this, gnawing on her lip, but then decided against it. “Not yet,” she said, carefully. “Soon, perhaps. But I’d like to touch base with DGSI and make some calls, if that’s all right.”
“Agent Renee!” exclaimed the young agent. “I remember!”
Adele frowned. “Not just John, er, Agent Renee. I have others I need to speak with as well.”
“Of course, yes, of course. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
Adele’s frown deepened, and Agent Marshall seemed to realize she was treading on thin ice. “It’s good to see you came packed for the weather,” she said, nodding at Adele’s overcoat. “Obviously, the hotel is kept comfortable. I’ll show you to the room, shall I? Hotel staff have been advised not to bother you and to avoid your room. We have a temporary lock on the keycard readers to prevent any snooping.”
Adele followed the younger agent as she led them past the small waterfall and toward a staircase of stone and curving, polished wood.
Her room was also an affair of glass and wood, with magnificent views of the valleys and precipices beyond. Her eyes trailed the snow-tipped mountains and whitened forests as she placed her suitcase by the bed and withdrew her phone.