Left to Vanish (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Eight) by Blake Pierce (books to read for 13 year olds .txt) 📗

front of the canvas, beneath the lights of the smallstudio. He poked with the paint brush toward the glass jar, flicking the lastdroplets off the end, and then added a streak of sheer red onto the canvas. Apiece of Henry. A swirling, circling pattern, just over the painted trees andflowing river. He liked to include his friends in his paintings. He’d done sofor the last twenty years. And soon, very soon, he felt near certain, his bestfriend in the world would help him paint the final masterpiece.

Not yet, though.

He frowned, reaching up and gently prodding at a slightstreak, clearing it from the pale canvas. He lifted his finger to his lips,suckling on the digit and licking away the blood.

No, not yet. Adele would wait.

He already had his next masterpiece planned.

“A soldier is what I am,” he whispered softly. “Look at mychest and look at it puff,” he said, “look at me frown, and look at me growl.”He giggled. “Look at how I am. So tough. So brave. They call him Joseph Sharp.They call him Joseph Sharp,” he said, singing softly with the tune in his head.

He nodded slowly. Yes, Adele was back in Germany. And that waswhere he was heading next. Where his next masterpiece would take place. Adele’sfather would be a truly beautiful spectacle. First her mother, then her father,and eventually, his best friend in the world. Yes, it would be a trinity ofmasterpieces. The most beautiful craft imaginable.

“Because that is what I am,” he sang softly. “That is whatI am.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It had felt like pulling teeth, but Agent Paige had finallyrelented. Now, Adele settled in the back of the taxi. Adele had taken the spotbehind the driver and Paige sat front passenger side. They’d left the airport,and now were moving through the smaller side streets of the Aquitaine region inSouthern France.

“Where is this damn house?” Paige snapped. “We’ve beendriving for an hour.”

Adele glanced at her watch, and then toward the small GPSwith the thin purple line beneath the taxi driver’s mirror. The man in fronthad learned not to answer Paige. Instead, he contented himself with staring outthe window and leaning toward one of the vents.

For her part, Adele sighed, glancing at the passing treesof the French countryside and the distant gray and blue where the horizon metthe ocean. The coastal portion of Aquitaine extended to meet the waters,witnessing the distant, expansive blue.

“Not much further,” Adele said, softly, staring through thewindow and refusing to glance toward Paige. “The property manager’s going tomeet us there.”

Agent Paige grunted. “Ah, the property manager. We’vesolved the case.”

Adele refused to be goaded. They would be stopping at thefirst victim’s vacation home, and Adele could only hope this would be the firstdomino to fall into place. For now, the killer still remained a step ahead. He’dbeen a step ahead the entire time. She shivered. That would change; it had to.Soon.

“Here,” the driver declared suddenly, and Adele couldn’thelp but notice a slight tinge of relief to his tone.

Adele stared through the windshield as they trundled up asmall road, toward the waiting beach house. It was much smaller than themansions had been.

No hedges, or statuary here. Nor gates. Rather, the houseseemed to be mostly wooden trim and stone arches. Bits and portions resembled avilla, but other parts seemed older, especially on the first floor. Adelefrowned toward an archway, with slabs of gray stone circling the door.

“Think you can wait for us?” Adele said, softly, glancing towardthe driver.

He looked at her in the mirror, his eyes narrowing. Adelesighed, pulling a fifty-euro note from her wallet and slipping it over theseat, patting her hand against the gearshift and then leaving the note wedgedagainst the plastic. “Please?” she said, insistently.

The driver glanced at the fifty-euro note, glanced at AgentPaige, glanced back at the note. He looked in the mirror again, his eyesnarrowing. Adele sighed, and pulled out another fifty-euro note. The last ofher funds for the day. Out here, it would take some time to wait for anothertaxi. Time they simply couldn’t afford.

She slid this next to the gearshift as well. The taxidriver flashed a smile now, all crooked teeth and cigarette-stained molars. “Happyto wait,” he said, grinning in a way that wrinkled his face like a prune.

Adele nodded her gratitude, trying not to roll her eyes asshe slid out of the taxi and followed Agent Paige out toward the waitingsummerhouse facing the distant ocean.

The sun beamed down on them, and the late afternoonillumination dawned over the back of the home, casting its shadow across thesand in the backyard.

“We’ve solved it,” Agent Paige declared, hands on her hipfacing the house.

“We haven’t even gotten inside yet,” Adele said, testily. “We’rehere. How about we make the best of it.”

As the two agents neared, the door opened suddenly, and asmall woman with a bandana around her head waited for them, glancingsuspiciously from one to the other.

“DGSI,” Adele said. “Are you the property manager?”

“Sara Cote,” the woman with the bandana said, crossing herarms over a blue maintenance uniform. A grease patch covered the sleeve, andshe had a toolbelt around her hips, with a variety of hammers and screwdriversand wrenches. She frowned from Adele to Agent Paige. “I got the call to meetyou here. May I ask what this is about?”

“Investigation,” Paige said, stiffly. “We just need you tolet us in. It shouldn’t take long.” She frowned. “Shouldn’t take long at all.”

Adele followed the older woman through the door and intothe summer home. As she did, she passed under another strange stone archway.Parts of the home look pristine and new. Varnished woods, and fresh beams withnew coats of paint. Some parts, like the kitchen which she could see from theentryway, had modern marble counters, and cherry wood cabinets.

Other portions of the house, though, seemed out of place.The stone archway above was matched by the entryway itself—a strange patchworkof wooden tiles and slabs of stone. She frowned, stepping over the stoop andentering further into the house, flashing her credentials to the watchful eyeof the property manager.

“When you called, I thought something might have happenedto Mrs. Churchville.”

Adele