Left to Lapse (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Seven) by Blake Pierce (book club suggestions txt) 📗

Her father’s single carry-on item of luggage rested by hisfeet. He hadn’t even had time to take a shower since arriving from the airportas he’d only been in her apartment for about ten minutes. But that was the wayof things in the Sharp household. Straight to the point. Without much room forundertakings of affection or connection.

For a moment, Adele’s mind wandered to her old mentor,Robert Henry. He’d been sick—very sick—but recently had shown some signs ofmild improvement. The thought alone weighed heavy on her heart, but she shookher head, focusing for the moment and trying to gauge her father’s response toher words.

His face remained blank. “What do you mean?” he probed.

“I mean what I said,” she replied. “Agent John Renee—do youremember him? He was working the case while I was…” Adele hesitated and trailedoff.

“Taking a break,” her father said.

Adele knew the danger of allowing her father to fill in hersentences. There had been a time, not long ago, when given the opportunity, hemight have said something like, “running away from your problems.” Or, “havinga mental breakdown.”

Her father hadn’t been one to mince words. But they werebeginning to see eye to eye more and more. What they saw neither much agreedwith, but at the very least, they were beginning to understand how to relate.Or so she hoped.

Then again, the Sergeant had withheld evidence in hermother’s case, and Adele was still having a hard time looking at him the same wayshe had before. Still, he had loved Elise once upon a time and despite howthings had ended between them, Adele knew he’d taken her murder very poorly. Hedeserved to know.

“He saw the killer? And did he catch the killer?”Still no expression.

“He tried, but failed to snag the bastard.”

“Adele,” her father said, sharply. “Language.”

She rolled her eyes. Some things never changed. “Fine. Hefailed to catch the killer. John had to save a victim.” She said thispart with pursed lips, her voice tight. She had already been over it withRenee, and didn’t feel like getting into it with her father as well.

For his part, the Sergeant’s calm façade was cracking abit. His eyebrows bunched lower, but even more so, a quiet storm brewed in hisgaze. They were darker than she remembered, and his pupils almost seemeddilated. He was breathing in shallow puffs, and she noticed one of his handshad clutched the edge of his shirt, pulling on the white fabric.

“He saw his face, briefly, and got a look at his physique.He’s going to try to work with a composite artist,” Adele said, speaking asmatter-of-factly as she could muster. Inwardly, her own stomach twisted andturned. She remembered her conversation with Renee, the flash of anger. Thenthe subsequent regret at how poorly she’d treated him. Clouding it all, though,had been the cold certainty: the killer was still out there, laughing in thedark. She cleared her throat, closing her eyes to steady herself for a moment,then continued, “It doesn’t look promising. And either way, I think the killerwas spooked. Whatever he was up to, ducking out of cover, he’s going to stay inhiding for a lot longer this time.”

The Sergeant crossed his arms and growled, “Why did he lethim get away?”

“Like I said, he had to choose between saving a victim andcatching the killer.”

A sudden jolt of rage displayed across the Sergeant’s face,twisting his expression and causing a growling, barking sound to explode fromhis lips as he snarled, “Catching the killer would save lives.”

Adele shrugged sympathetically. “I know.”

Her father seemed to lose some steam now, and he collapsedin the couch facing the window, leaning back, his walrus mustache facing theceiling fan.

“What do you mean you think he’s gone?”

“I mean, John saw him. Not well, and in the dark, but thebast—er, killer would be stupid to try anything else.”

“If you caught him once, you can do it again, can’t you?”

Adele winced and shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s going tobe that easy. Look how long we’ve been searching so far, and only now did westumble upon anything at all.”

Her father exhaled through his nose. “Well, he will have toremember then, won’t he. Whatever he saw. Your friend—this John. He has toremember.”

“It was dark. He only caught a glimpse. I don’t know what’sgoing to come of it.”

The Sergeant shook his head, frowning. “Anything else Ishould know?”

Adele sighed. “Nothing I can think of. Things got a littlebit quiet after that. It was only a week or so ago. I had to see if I couldfollow up on any leads, but nothing came of it.” Adele paused, then said, “Oneof the cafeteria workers on the first floor at DGSI vanished about a week and ahalf ago. But her family says it’s not uncommon for her to go off travelingwith some out of town boyfriend for the fun of it. We’re looking into it, butother than that, things have been calm.”

“A cafeteria worker vanished? Not retaliation for seeinghis face, is it?”

“No body,” Adele said, wincing. “Like I said, they’rekeeping an eye out.”

“Dammit,” said the Sergeant. He sat in silence for amoment, his head still reclined, still pressed into the couch.

Through the window, Adele watched as traffic moved throughthe streets of Paris. She breathed slowly through her nose, steadying hernerves by focusing on the exhalation.

She wasn’t sure what else to do. “I have a spare pillow andsome blankets in the cupboard in the hall. You’re welcome to it. Stay as longas you like,” she said, not because she really meant it—but because she knewher father, like her, would want to spend as little time as possible in thesame cramped space as they could manage.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her father. It was that shedidn’t know how to express it. And either he suffered the same difficulty, orhad never learned how to kindle affection in the first place.

Either way, now that she’d said it, she wasn’t sure what toadd. “I have some cereal in the cupboards,” she continued, hesitantly. “And Ialso—”

Before she could finish, her phone began to ring, chirpingfrom her pocket with quick, punctuated sounds like a twittering bird.

“Sorry,” she said