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

Adelelooked away, glancing back at the legal pad.

Forher part, she didn’t blame the folks back at the DGSI. They’d providedinformation on all twenty-three of Becker’s highlighted names. Locations, ages,and names…

Abit of a picture was beginning to form on the legal pad. Now, Adele had almostfifteen of the spots filled in. She sighed softly, glancing at the list again,her eyes glazed and trailing over the notes she’d taken.

Fora moment, she lowered her phone, trying to focus.

Whatdid it all mean anyway?

Thelocations were important; not just of the summer homes or the church propertiesbut of the potential victims. Why they were important, Adele didn’t know.

Thekiller had skipped from country to country.

First,he’d killed in London. Then he’d gone to Italy. Then Germany.

Whoknew where he’d hit next…

Sheplaced a hand over the glowing screen of her phone, if only for a respite fromthe glare. She blinked a few times, massaging the bridge of her nose brieflybefore returning her attention to the yellow legal pad. She tapped the rubberend of her pencil against the paper, thinking to herself, trying to piece ittogether.

“EmmaMartin and Steven Everett…” she murmured softly. “Steven’s married,” she calledout, raising her voice.

“So?”Paige snapped back, fiddling with the coffee pot.

Adeleblinked. So? A good question. So what? Steven was married. “Means he has a wife.She’s about in her fifties too,” Adele said, consulting her yellow legal pad. “Bothstill live in England. Not far from London, actually.”

Paigeturned now, crossing her arms, gripping an empty Styrofoam cup that she’dcrushed beyond use. “And?” she said.

“And…”Adele paused. “Why didn’t he just kill all three of them while there?”

Themoment she said it, she felt a tug in her stomach. Instinct. The sort ofinstinct calling for her to pay attention, to follow the lead. A bloodhoundwith a scent. A bloodhound with a bad cold, trying to catch a scent. And yet,she felt like she was on to something.

Paigesaid, “What’s your point?”

“Mypoint,” Adele said, slowly, tracing the other names on the yellow legal pad. “Lookat these names. A good few of them live in France, to be sure. But… look, thesetwo in the UK. These two in Germany. Three in Italy. Why did he onlykill one in each place, moving from country to country?” The more she spoke,the more she felt her pulse quickening. “It doesn’t actually make sense, doesit?” she pressed. “If the killing is simply about the land, why not bump themoff as quickly as possible? Take out three in the London area before moving toGermany then doing the same.”

“Idon’t know why psychos do what they do, Adele.”

“No—Iget that. But people who murder aren’t random. They have reasons, usually. Atleast this sort of killer does. He’s flying around the continent for specificvictims.”

“We’restill not sure it isn’t Mr. Lavigne.”

Adelesighed. “I know… but… You have reservations too.”

Paigestared forlornly at her crushed cup. “I’m beginning to lose those.”

Adeleshook her head, glancing from the legal pad to the screenshot of Becker’shighlighted names. “For some reason, the killer isn’t solely interestedin old church properties. Something else is going on here… Something…”

Shetrailed off, frowning in consideration.

“Whatis it?” Paige said after a moment, watching Adele. “What’s the matter?”

Adelebreathed a soft sigh, her breath shuddering with the exhalation. And then shepushed to her feet, nearly toppling the chair as she did. She snatched theyellow legal pad, jammed her phone into her pocket, and spun about, marchingout of the break room and down the hall.

“Adele!”Agent Paige called after her. “Agent Sharp, where are you going?”

“Toget answers,” Adele replied.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Adelemarched directly toward the interrogation room door, gripping the metal handleand feeling the cool surface against her fingers. Maybe she’d been consideringthis wrong. Maybe instead of seeing Lavigne as a potential suspect or victim ofoverreach, maybe she needed to think laterally.

MaybeLavigne was an asset…

Whatsort of asset?

Shesupposed she was about to find out. She flung open the interrogation room door,clearing her throat as she entered.

Fourpeople crowded around the table.

All four figures turned sharply as the door shut behindAdele with a thump and a loud click.

“Can I help you, Agent Sharp?” said one of the policeofficers on one side of the metal table. It was the same man who’d beencomplicit in the late phone call with Agent Paige. Now, the subject of theruse, the lawyer, was sitting on the opposite side of the table, next to Mr.Lavigne. The lawyer was a very small man, both in stature and girth. He had wild,jutting hair, sticking up in the back and smooth in the front. He couldn’t havebeen much taller than a child, and he wore an immaculate brown suit. The lawyer’sbriefcase was on the table, and already he had pulled out a couple of forms,which it looked like he was sifting through and showing his client. For hispart, the suspect, Gregor, was eyeing Adele with the severest of distrust.

She felt her stomach twist, but glanced at the two policeofficers on one side of the table, and said, “I need to speak to Mr. Lavignealone.”

The police officers hesitated, and one of them cleared histhroat. “Are you sure?”

“Quickly, if you please,” she said, insistently.

The officers glanced at each other, but then shrugged andmoved away from the table, passing by her on opposite sides. Another dull thudand a click suggested they’d left the room.

Adele’s neck prickled. She clutched the yellow legal pad inher right hand. She waved the papers toward the lawyer. “He doesn’t need to behere for this either,” she said to Mr. Lavigne.

The lawyer began to protest, but before he could, Gregorsaid, “Why? Do you believe me?”

Adele glanced uncertainly around the room. She took threequick steps over toward the blinking red lights of the camera above the mirror.She reached up, clicking it off. Then she returned her attention to Gregor.

The lawyer began to sputter in protest again, jabbing asmall finger toward the camera.

But Lavigne cleared his throat and reached out with acuffed hands to steady his representative.

“What do you want, Agent?”

Adele shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, andthen, slowly, she sighed. “I need your help,” she said. “If you’re telling thetruth, and if you had nothing to do with it, I