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

“Exactly. But we can’t rule it out either. Still, I needyour help to get him to cooperate. We need to find any other tracts of land inthe area that were sold. That’s how were going to find the next victim.”

Agent Paige nodded slowly, and if Adele hadn’t been payingattention, she might have missed the note of admiration flicker across theolder woman’s eyes. Paige, not one to dawdle, brushed past Adele, moving towardthe buzzers and pressing all of them at once. She waited impatiently, and asecond later, the door buzzed. She shouldered into the old office complex, and,without waiting for Adele, marched up the stairs.

“Which one?” she called over her shoulder.

“Becker,” Adele replied. She hastened over, catching upwith Paige and returning up the stairs toward the doors at the top.

This time, Paige didn’t knock, but simply barged in, comingto a halt in front of the desk, behind which the two secretaries were stillseated.

By the looks of things, and their flustered conversations,they were still recovering from the last visit of the DGSI.

Now, though, they glanced nervously from Adele to Paige.

“We need to speak with Mr. Becker,” Paige snapped.

Instead of waiting for a reply, she moved past them towardthe door, which was still slightly ajar, and pushed it open with her elbow.

Adele, like a leaf caught up in a whirlwind, simplyfollowed.

The two agents stood in the doorway again, both of themignoring the protests behind them.

This time, Mr. Becker was sitting behind his desk. He hadhis old, corded phone in one hand, which he lowered slowly, whispering as hishead dipped, “I’ll call right back. I have clients.” There was a soft ding asthe phone pressed into its cradle, and the old owner of the firm glancedbetween the two agents.

“You’re back,” he said to Adele, betraying no emotion savein the tightening of his lips.

“We have some more questions,” Adele said quickly.

Becker leaned back, folding his hands over his chest,resting the back of his head against the cold glass overlooking the smallcoastal town’s streets. “This is beginning to border on harassment, Agent AdeleSharp. And you might be?” he said, turning to Agent Paige.

It was to Adele’s absolute surprise that instead of a curt,biting answer, Paige simply dipped her head and in as polite a tone as had eversqueaked from those normally pursed lips, she said, “We don’t mean to botheryou, sir. My name is Sophie Paige, and we’re here on government business, as mypartner has informed you.”

“Also with the DGSI?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir.” Paige nodded once.

Adele tried not to stare in shock at the polite andrespectful conduct of her normally acerbic partner. Was it simply a tactic togain his trust? Or a matter of the age difference? She’d always known Paige wassomewhat old-fashioned.

The decorum wasn’t lost on Becker, it seemed, who turnedslightly in his chair, facing Agent Paige rather than Adele and addressing hisfollow-up to her. “Am I still a suspect, hmm? What is this, property crime?”

Paige shook her head quickly. “We’re not here about you,sir. My partner here suggests you possess an encyclopedic knowledge ofpurchases and sales in the area.”

“Damn right,” Becker said, nodding once, some of hisnormally reserved demeanor cracking under the scrutiny. “I’ve been at this fornearly thirty years now. You’re not questioning my recollection, are you?”

“No, of course not, sir. I know how it is to haveyoungsters come in and start kicking things around.”

He snorted, but his eyes twinkled for a moment. “Tearingdown fences they don’t even know the purpose of.”

“Exactly, sir.”

Adele could have sworn that both Becker and Paige glanced inher direction discreetly, before returning their attention to each other. For amoment, she felt like a stick in the mud just standing there and wondered ifperhaps she ought to just leave the room.

But then she reminded herself why she was there, clearedher throat, and glanced toward Paige.

Becker, noting the exchange, leaned forward again, hischair creaking as he settled his elbows on the table in front of him. As hehunched, he looked even smaller and older than he had before, like some crookedgargoyle angled off a stone turret, his features wise and weathered.

“How can I help you, Agents?”

Paige gave a surreptitious glance askance at Adele, muchlike the passing of a baton. Adele, mustering her courage, stepped forward andcleared her throat.

“Sir,” she said, delicately, “I’m wondering if you know ofany other property sales in the area, about the same time when you purchasedthe tract from the church.”

“There were quite a few,” the man said, nodding once. Heslid his fingers up his face, pressing them against the bridge of his nose asif against a headache, his eyes narrowing as if he were focusing on somethinginteresting etched into the wooden table.” He coughed delicately. “I’ll needyou to be more specific, Agent Adele Sharp.”

“Specifically,” she said, “any sales from the church tolocal land owners. Especially sales with cloisters or old churches on the land.Within the same time frame. Do you think you can remember that far back?”

Again, she noted the old, corded phone, the complete lackof computer on his desk. She winced in consideration, wondering if thisrecollection routine was too much for the man. Clearly he had a photographicmemory of some form. Her own gaze flicked to the many legal tomes lining hisornate bookshelf against the wall, then back to the man.

He was still staring, his brow creased in concentration.

Adele opened her mouth to speak again, but Agent Paige reachedout, tapping—a bit too firmly in Adele’s estimation—against the youngerwoman’s wrist. She fell silent, simply watching, waiting.

The three figures in the small office room on the secondfloor, illuminated by the light through the open window, stood in momentarysuspended silence, sharing an amalgam of concentration and suppressed unease.

If he couldn’t remember, then Adele couldn’t find the nextpotential victim. The killer had shown his hand. Perhaps he hadn’t thoughtanyone would check vacation homes. Perhaps he hadn’t considered someone mightfly to France when the murders were in Italy, England, and Germany.

For the first time on this case, Adele felt like they werecatching up. The killer hadn’t seen them coming, and now it was