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

She didn’t deserve anything Roberthad left her. She’d failed him to the point of death.

She felt a flash of disgust. No…She needed out.

Trying to move as quietly aspossible, Adele headed in the opposite direction of the kitchen doorway, movingtoward the hall that led to the front door. As she left, hastening with eachhaunted step through the familiar mansion hall, her phone began to buzz.

Adele frowned, glancing down.

But even as she picked it up, itrang along with the vibration. Wrinkling her nose, she stared at the device.

Two incoming calls.

She blinked in surprise.

Two calls simultaneously, bothfrom numbers she recognized. The first, from Agent Leoni—the Italian she’d grownfond of over the last few months. She pictured the handsome agent’s features inher mind—his perfectly sculpted nose and Superman curl of dark hair against hisforehead. She felt tempted to smile, staring at the buzzing number.

Did she want to talk to him,though?

Everyone close to you is indanger, whispered a small voice in her mind. Everyone who draws nearwill die!

She shivered and instantly hung upon the call from Leoni. No… Not now. That would have to wait. Still, the secondphone call was a welcome one. Another number she knew.

Work.

With a flooding sense of strangerelief, she pushed out the front door, stepping into the small, gated gardenand moving past the marble angel with its pristine features. With a raspingvoice, Adele answered, “Adele.”

“Agent Sharp?” said the familiar,growling tone of Executive Foucault, her boss at the DGSI. “Have a second?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, quickly. “Acase?” She winced at how eager she must have sounded.

She continued toward the blackgate outside Robert’s mansion and pushed out onto the street.

“No rush,” Foucault said, hisexpression indeterminable over the call. “How are you feeling?”

“Sir, do you have a case for me?”

“Answer my question first.”

“Feeling, sir?”

“Dammit, Sharp, I know you andHenry were close. Are you up for a—”

“Yes sir,” she said quickly, herback to the hedge encircling Robert’s home. “Very much so, sir.”

Executive Foucault paused on the otherend and Adele waited on tenterhooks, hoping she’d sounded convincing enough.She couldn’t continue like this. From the funeral to estate management and backto her apartment. It had been weeks since the death. She was an investigator, abloodhound. It felt like she’d been kenneled against her will. Plus, she neededa distraction. Anything to get her mind off the dark thoughts, the swirling,looping anxiety.

“Am I going to regret this, Sharp?”

“No sir. Definitely not. I’mtip-top of my game, sir.”

“Tip-top? Hmm?”

Adele coughed delicately. “Thefuneral was yesterday, sir. I’ve dealt with it.”

This, she knew, was a lie. But shecouldn’t remain like a dinghy in a stormy sea with nothing to do, nowhere togo.

Foucault sighed on the other end. “Allright. I’m taking your word on this one, Sharp. But I’m warning you, if I get awhiff that your head isn’t on straight—”

“Straight as a pin, sir.”

“Right. Well, in that case, yes,Agent Sharp. I have a case. And it’s a strange one.”

CHAPTER THREE

Adele leaned back in her worksedan, eyes closed, feet on the dashboard where she’d parked around the cornerfrom Robert’s estate. Her full attention now was directed toward the buzzingsound coming from her cell phone’s speaker.

“Both of them wealthy, sir?”

“Yes, and both in their fifties.”

“Strangled, you say?”

“That’s what it looks like. We’rewaiting for the full report, but it seems straightforward enough.”

Adele lowered her feet from thedash, her eyes still closed, as she considered this. “Two wealthy women, bothin their fifties, killed within three days of each other. By strangulation. Isthat about it?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“And we’re sure they’re connected?”

“Again, we’re not sure, but that’swhat it looks like. If I had all the answers, I wouldn’t be calling you.Besides, we’re a bit short staffed over here at the moment.”

“Oh, why?”

An awkward pause. And she realizedwith a sickening jolt. “Oh,” she said, dully. “The task force, right? How arethings on that front?”

Foucault sniffed. “I’ll keep youinformed of any developments.”

Adele didn’t say it, but she knewthis was boss code for we’ve got shit all. For a moment, she feltanother sickening thought. Was this just a ploy to get her out of the way, toprevent her from interfering with the investigation? She closed her eyes at thethought, shaking her head.

“Well, Sharp, are you in?”

She swallowed back the rising tideof nerves, focusing on the simple need for a distraction more than anythingright now. “Of course. Just, sir, the UK—I haven’t worked a case there in awhile.”

“But you have in Italy. I’m sureyour Interpol connections will pay off. I’m simply the liaison here, AgentSharp. The initial murder, the one in the UK, seems like the killer’s first.But now, the same MO in Italy three days later suggests he’s picking up thepace.”

“And we’re sure it’s the same MO?”

“Yes. The ligature marks from thestrangulation are… well, here, this is what the coroner in London said, and Iquote: ‘peculiar and bizarre.’”

“How so?”

“Coroners in both places say itlooks like some sort of beaded material was used. Not exactly a strangulationweapon of choice. Suggesting—”

“The same killer.”

“Exactly. Well, final chance,Sharp. Are you in? If these kills are connected, we have a problem. The killeravoided two security systems, managed to travel internationally, and had thefitness and strength to kill two women with his hands. We need you focused ifyou’re in.”

Adele opened her eyes, staring outthe windshield at the gray skies above Paris, frowning over the cars parked infront of her along the sidewalk. The city felt darker now. The clouds above grayer,the sunlight dimmer. She nodded, not that he could see, and said, “Yes sir. I’min. Very much so. Just…”

“Just what?” He sounded suspiciousnow.

Quickly she said, “Just ifpossible, could I have another partner for this one?”

“You don’t wish to work with AgentRenee?”

“Not this time, sir.”

“Did something happen—”

“No. Nothing. Just, well, sir, it’stwo wealthy women.”

“So? Adele, I told you if you didn’tthink you could handle—”

“I can!” she protested quickly,feeling her stomach twist. She couldn’t afford to lose this case, not now. IfFoucault took it from her because he suspected her of being too emotionallydistraught, she wasn’t sure how she’d survive another three weeks of cabinfever and listlessness. She needed this case, but she also couldn’t workwith John.