Melissa interjected. “I’m one of ten. There are quite a few moderators. I don’t usually deal with new members, but Amanda was… she seemed so friendly.”
Adele nodded sympathetically and allowed an appropriate amount of time to pass before asking, “Is there anything else you can tell us about her?”
The woman shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“The victim had a strange injury,” Agent Paige said, carefully. “Do you know…” She hesitated, as if trying to find a delicate way to put it, but then shrugged and continued, “…why her kidney was missing?”
Melissa’s eyes widened in horror, and she stared past Adele now, transfixed by the older agent. Melissa stammered and shook her head, but she turned away again, staring out the window. This time, she didn’t turn back.
Adele exhaled deeply, but then waved at the two police officers, gesturing back toward the vehicle. She stepped from the street onto the curb and called out, “Thank you for your time, Ms. Robinson.”
Agent Paige followed after her. Muttering beneath her breath, and stepping up the sidewalk, Adele whispered, “What’s wrong with you?”
Paige frowned. “Careful who you’re talking to.”
“Are you trying to scare our witness?”
“No, I was asking a valid question. I waited until the end of the interrogation.”
“She’s not a suspect.” Adele glanced toward the figure in the back of the police car once more and tried to suppress her frown. “It wasn’t an interrogation. We were questioning a witness.”
“Be that as it may, I waited until the end of the questions to ask her. It’s an important point. We still don’t know why the kidneys are missing.”
Adele couldn’t disagree with this, but she still felt a sense of frustration. At her partner’s comment, though, her eyes widened. “Wait, what do you mean kidneys? More than one? I thought only one kidney was missing.”
Agent Paige looked at her fingernails. “Yes, one. But also from the second victim.”
Wait,” Adele said. “Both of them were missing a kidney? How come I wasn’t told this sooner? When did you find out?”
Agent Paige waved airily. “I just received the call a few minutes ago. I wonder why they called me instead of you.” Adele glared at her, and Agent Paige shrugged and began to move back toward her vehicle. “We should check back at headquarters and see if we can get the social media platform to release the information about this expat group.”
Adele continued to stare at her partner. “Were you even planning to tell me about the second kidney if I hadn’t asked?”
Paige was already opening the driver’s door of her car. “I’m telling you now. They emailed the report. I’ll send it along in a minute.”
Adele braced herself, shaking her head. The two police officers were already getting back into their vehicle, preparing to take Amanda back home. Adele stood between the police vehicles and the old apartment building. It was starting to feel like she was in over her head. The killer was still out there. He killed at a three-day pace. That meant he could strike again within the next forty-eight hours.
She shivered at the thought and tried to avoid looking in Agent Paige’s direction. The sight of the older woman only set her blood boiling.
Still, perhaps Paige was right about one thing. They needed to talk with the online forum service provider to figure out if they could get information about the users. Adele wondered about the reasons why Americans were coming to France. Amanda had been polite about her thoughts of America, but perhaps there were others who weren’t so fond of their home country.
Did that have something to do with it? Maybe the motive for why the two victims had left American to come to France would be a connecting point. Adele watched the two vehicles pull from the curb; first Agent Paige’s SUV, and then the police car.
Still frowning to herself, Adele moved back over to her own vehicle. She felt her phone chirp, and glanced down as she slid into the front seat. An email attachment had been sent by Paige.
Adele wondered again if Paige was intentionally going out of her way to sabotage the investigation. But of course, if Adele went to complain to Foucault, she would never hear the end of it. She couldn’t afford to make an even greater enemy out of Paige. Right now, it was a matter of petty nuisance and annoyance, but further escalation could prove dangerous.
Vaguely, Adele wondered how that woman had five adopted kids and a husband. She seemed insufferable.
She sighed through her nose, opened the email attachment, and began to scan the reports. They would have to send a request to Foucault to get permission to approach the social media company for information on the expat forum. Right now, it felt like a race against the clock. What tied these two victims together? Why were they both missing kidneys?
Adele examined the photos and felt a shiver up her arms. The cuts had been small; the incisions clean. They’d been done hurriedly, though. On both victims, the incisions were matching.
Adele texted Robert: Meet you at the office. Something came up—housewarming will have to wait. She lowered her phone, tossing it over onto the passenger seat, then buckled up, put the keys in the ignition, and set the car in gear, pulling away from the curb and heading back toward the DGSI headquarters. Questions swirled through her mind, and the sense of urgency pressed on her like a cloud.
With matching incisions, it meant it was the same killer, then. There had still been a possibility it wasn’t serial. But now, that notion seemed far-fetched. It was the same person killing these women. The only question was why? For pleasure or compulsion? Or some other reason? And when would they kill again?
CHAPTER NINE
Shiloah Watkins stood by the door to her new apartment, adjusting the security chain. She felt a buzz in her pocket and sighed, pressing her hand against the rectangular form of her phone. She didn’t need to check to guess it was her mother texting for the millionth time about the two murders in the city. An entire ocean separated them now, but her mother only seemed more interested in Shiloah’s business. An echo of her mother’s voice nagged in her head, and Shiloah checked the locks again, then turned away from the door and moved through the small hallway in the direction of her bedroom.
She paused by the bathroom door and glanced in, noting her towel had fallen and was now bunched up beneath the rack. She muttered softly to herself and approached the towel, lifted it, and hung it again.
The shower itself was notably devoid of shampoos, and only had a single, whittled yellow bar of soap.
She’d only been in France for a few days now and had yet to muster the courage to go grocery shopping. Shiloah reached up and tugged at her hair, she emitting a grunt of disgust as her fingers rubbed against the grainy texture.
It was a scary thing, coming to France. She’d only graduated with a bachelor’s in linguistics two months before. Now, she’d be working as an English tutor.
Shiloah moved away from the towel rack and over to the sink, peering into the mirror and studying her expression. She had always possessed a fondness for France—ever since a study-abroad program two years ago. Now, she hoped to live here permanently.
Shiloah heard a quiet buzzing from her pocket and reached down, pulling her phone out. As she’d expected, there were three missed calls from her mother.