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

cracked asphalt lined with dumpsters and the lingering odor ofrefuse and mildew. His nose twitched as he wheeled to a halt and stowed thebike behind one of the large green and blue trash cans.

He tested his movement gingerly,feeling the way his rough, burlap shirt rubbed against the open wounds. A carride might have been more comfortable, more accommodating.

But Elke Schmidt didn’t prefervehicles. He practiced pain as a virtue.

A virtue she would sharesoon enough.

Breathing slowly in and out, Elkemoved away from the stowed bicycle along the alley toward the mouth of the sidepath. He ignored the scent of the dumpsters, the trash and rot behind him,preferring to stare ahead, along the open road in the flank of France, his eyesinching up the large apartment building across the street.

His eyes flashed as he stared atthe structure, glaring in the direction of the top floor apartment.

No movement discernible.

This particular judgment would bea difficult one. Harder to track the transgressor’s movements—harder to detecther habits so high up.

His face twisted into a snarl andhe pounded a fist hard into the stone wall next to him. He yelped inpain, feeling a knuckle crack from the force. He lifted his hand, his fingerstrembling, staring at the back of his knuckles. A thick flap of skin had tornoff on the cement. A moment later, blood suddenly pooled, pouring down his handtoward his wrist. Delicately, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wrappingit around his knuckles where he stood in the alley.

The streets outside were mostly empty,save the occasional car skirting past. They were far enough outside the mainhub of the busy city that they were allowed a modicum of privacy and respite.

Still, there was no rest for thewicked.

And the transgressor would facejudgment soon enough.

Elke Schmidt folded his good handover his injured knuckles, squeezing down, wincing and feeling tears of painform in his eyes.

Three judgments already.

All of them successful.

He didn’t need reconnaissance forthis one. Perhaps her habits were unknown to him. Perhaps he couldn’t perfectlytrack her schedule.

It didn’t matter.

The Good Judge was on his side.Hadn’t it been proven already? Wasn’t it obvious?

He nodded, dipping his head onceand then stalking across the street, sticking to the shadows, his head lowered.

A bit of homework never hurt. Buthe couldn’t wait much longer. The vengeance was burbling in his chest.

“Remember me?” he whispered,glancing up toward the top floor as he walked. “Don’t you remember me?” He rememberedthem. Remembered all of them.

The way they’d treated him as achild. The way they’d tried to beat it out of him.

They had called him thesinner—called him the fool. Now he had returned to share the truth.

A truth found only in pain andvengeance.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

 Adele leaned against the oldcathedral wall outside the converted office complex, tapping her fingersagainst her arm, waiting impatiently.

She glanced down at her phoneagain, rereading the curt message.

Fine. Omw.

Adele rolled her eyes, looking upagain, scanning from one side of the street to the other and feeling her frustrationmounting. How far had Agent Paige gone? Surely she hadn’t already gotten on aflight.

Already, Adele had waited nearlyan hour outside the front doors of the office complex where Becker andAssociates was located.

She could feel her anxiety returning,twisting in her stomach. She didn’t like standing still, motionless, waitinghelplessly for the cavalry to arrive.

As shewaited, Adele could feel old emotions cycling wildly once more. Not only didher stomach twist and turn, but she could also glimpse flashes of memories.

Some conclusions were inevitable. She could feel the clockticking in her mind. The killer was out there. Other killers were alsoout there. But this one in particular was biding his time, one step ahead,hunting his victims one by one. And Adele was only able to pick up the piecesin his wake.

“Come on,” she muttered in frustration, glancing up anddown the long street. She hastily pulled her phone out again, texting quickly: Whereare you?

She waited, staring hopefully at the screen, but AgentPaige didn’t reply.

It wasn’t like she needed Paige, was it?

What was her next step?

She knew the killer was targeting people in this region,who had built homes on church land. She knew he was targeting them forreligious reasons, that much seemed clear. He was resourceful, moving about thecountry and continent with impunity. Smart, strong, dangerous.

How would she find him, though?

Her stomach gave another twist, but just then a taxiappeared at the end of the road. Her heart skipped a beat and she stepped awayfrom the wall, waving a hand.

The taxi pulled to a screeching halt next to the curb.

The vehicle moved with short, jolting motions, and thedoors flung open, as if the taxi itself couldn’t wait to be rid of itsoccupant.

Agent Paige stepped onto the curb without so much as aglance back at the driver, and then stalked toward Adele. The taxi didn’t wait;no sooner had Agent Paige left than it squealed away, moving back up thestreets.

“I’m here,” Paige called out, likely replying to thehurriedly sent message. The silver-haired agent looked past Adele, eyeing theold cathedral turned office complex. She shook her head. “The church owns theland?”

“Religious motives,” Adele said quickly. “It’s like wethought.” Part of her wanted to press, to make a deal out of it. Part of herwanted to simply yell I told you so and dance around, pointing a fingerat Agent Paige.

Adele pictured the image in her mind and tried not tosmile.

“All right, I’ll bite, what next?” Paige snapped. It wastestament to just how stubborn the woman was that she offered nothing like anapology nor an attempted justification. She simply looked at Adele with herpiercing gaze, her face framed with silver hair, not a strand out of place.

Adele would have to wait for apologies. She had a killer tocatch rather than an ego to assuage.

Her lips felt dry as she spoke quickly. “I made contactwith the property owner who sold one of the parcels. He has an encyclopedicknowledge of land acquisition in the area. He doesn’t like me much right now,as I may have hinted that I thought he was a suspect.”

“Is he?”

“I can’t be sure. He doesn’t have the physique for the kills.”

“Accomplice?” Agent Paige paused, but then