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

Adele didn’t blink. “I’ve seen evil. What does that have todo with this particular cloister?”

“Troubled youth were sent there. They were considered demonpossessed. Modern science might suggest they were more mentally ill thananything. Medicine hadn’t been developed at the time, though. Some of them,even to this day, wouldn’t have benefited. Hard cases, tough cases. Some ofthem insurmountable.”

“They were sent to this particular convent you’re talkingof?”

“Like I said, most of them were harmless. But this one,they didn’t know what to do with these children. And so from what I remember,they would send the most troubled, the most difficult, the most,” he paused andtrailed off, “possessed, to this convent. And so it was staffed by someof the harsher, harder women. The ones who could deal with such traumatizedcases. Children. Their methods,” he winced, shaking his head, “weren’t verykind.”

Adele shivered, staring at the side of Mr. Lavigne’s face. “Andthis convent, you say you have diary entries?”

“Maybe, somewhere. I think so. But I do have a picture, Iknow that. It came out when I was researching some of these properties to makemy case to the government.”

“The case to prevent their sale?”

“My case to enable their preservation,” he returned. Heshivered now, looking off again.

Adele’s mouth felt dry and her fingers cold. She spokesoftly, but sincerely. “Mr. Lavigne, if you’re innocent, we have a killer outthere. What I need to know is how I catch this particular predator.”

He shrugged. “For me to help you further, I need my booksand collections. I have them back at my house; other than that, there’s notmuch I can tell you.”

“And you have a picture of the people who ran this convent?You’ll be able to tell me exactly which address it was?”

Mr. Lavigne looked at her, and he dipped his head slowlyonce and said, “Yes. I could help if you let me.”

She stood slowly, shifting back and forth. “Could you tellme where this information is?”

He looked at her, and his eyes narrowed, “I can’t say Iremember that either.”

So that’s how it was going to be. She was cornered, and Mr.Lavigne seemed to know it. Could she trust the guy? Obviously not. He was stilla suspect. A very likely suspect, despite all the acting, and emotions, andposturing. The cameras off, the lawyer was gone, the police officers left too.The decision was now Adele’s.

“Will you help me?” she murmured.

“Will you help me?”

It weighed heavy on her; one way or another, she was takinga risk. She closed her eyes for a second, ignoring the speculation, the scrutinyacross the table. Ignoring the bright lights above her. What would Robert havedone?

Perhaps, more importantly, what would he have told her todo?

Trust your instincts, asoft voice whispered in her mind.

Courage didn’t always require storming a gunman’s position.It didn’t always require battling a serial killer over a discarded knife.Sometimes, courage was simple, found in the smallest choices.

Trust your instincts.

She sat there, feeling the swirling anxiety in her stomach.No part of her wanted to trust her instincts. No part of her wanted to shoulderthis weight again. She didn’t want the blame for another death. Someone elsecould take the lead. Someone else could make the fatal decision.

But no decision was just as good as the wrong one. By nottrying at all, she failed by default. Another little thing Robert often said.

Trust your instincts.

“Dammit,” she growled. “Fine, you’re coming with me.” Shereached into her pocket, pulling out the handcuff keys and moving toward Mr.Lavigne.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Adelecould feel eyes burning through her shoulders as police officers in theprecinct watched her march Mr. Lavigne down the marble stairs and out the frontof the sliding glass doors.

“Adele,”Agent Paige was insisting beneath her breath at her side, skipping to keep up, “whatare you doing? Agent Sharp. Adele!”

ButAdele kept her eyes fixed ahead, one hand on Mr. Lavigne’s shoulder, guidinghim toward the unmarked SUV Paige had managed to borrow from the locals. Herother hand clutched the keys as if they were a life line tossed into choppywaters.

Thishad to work.

Eitherher instincts were on the verge of altering the case… or they were about to gether killed and help a killer go free.

“Adele,”Agent Paige snapped as Adele clicked the locks and then opened the back door,gesturing at Mr. Lavigne to enter ahead of her.

“Afteryou,” she muttered.

“Merci,”he returned somewhat chagrined, rubbing at his wrists. Mr. Lavigne’sdiminutive lawyer was standing on the top step outside the precinct recordingeverything with his cell phone.

Butthe historian didn’t hesitate in sliding into the back of the SUV. Adele movedhurriedly around the front toward the driver’s side and waited impatiently asAgent Paige, still blustering and protesting, entered the vehicle as well.

“Adele!”Paige was still saying. “Have you gone mad? Why isn’t he in handcuffs?”

Adelestarted the engine, again weathering the storm of the directed attention. Shecleared her throat delicately, glancing in the rearview mirror and holding Mr.Lavigne’s steady gaze.

“Toyour home?” she said, softly.

“That’swhere my collection is,” he replied, equally calm. He kept glancing betweenPaige and Adele like a spectator witnessing a tennis match.

Adelenodded, gunned the engine, and began maneuvering out of the police parking lot,still enduring Paige’s protests without comment. It wasn’t until she’d guidedonto the side street, leading back toward the rundown neighborhood where they’dfirst sniffed Mr. Lavigne, that she finally glanced toward Paige and gently butfirmly said, “I know what I’m doing.”

Paigeblinked, caught mid-protest. She swallowed, leaning back, still unbuckled inher seat. She had twisted in such a way that it allowed her to keep one eye onAdele and one eye on Gregor. “Do you?” she said at last. “Truly? Because itlooks like we’re taking a suspected serial killer for a joy ride without cuffsor backup in a civilian vehicle.”

“Iknow. But I don’t think he did it,” Adele said, simply. “He has information. Ithink it’s going to help.”

“Helpwhat?”

“Actuallysolve this. Hold on—I’m going fast.”

Shefloored the pedal, tearing up the street and ripping down the long road, movingby memory through the small coastal town toward the westernmost section.

Sheglanced in mild recognition as she passed the old trailer where Mr. Durandworked, his smiling face beaming out from the placard on the