Left to Vanish (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Eight) Blake Pierce (classic english novels TXT) 📖

fabric had been set up. The makeshift home seemed empty fornow.

“What now?” she murmured out loud.

Robert was dead. She had to face it. She had grieved him,hadn’t she?

Then again, she hadn’t allowed herself to cry at thefuneral. Tears were no good. Tears wouldn’t bring him back.

Nothing would.

But what about the victims now? What about those twenty-threepotential victims? The killer would keep going, no doubt. Did they deserve todie just because she was going through a mental breakdown?

Was that what Robert would have wanted? What did it matterwhat a dead man wanted? The dead didn’t want anything.

She found herself hyperventilating now, sliding down thealley wall, feeling the bricks rigid against her spine. She dropped into acrouch, her knees practically pressed against her, her arms dangling looselyover the top of her legs. She closed her eyes, focusing on breathing for amoment.

Her instincts had fled. She didn’t even feel like aninvestigator anymore. She felt like a child, a child crying in the back of herapartment as the news came about her mother. A child forced to move acrosscountry back with her father, living in silence and fear. A child withoutfriends, without help. A child alone. Robert had come along, after shegraduated from university and was recruited by the French agency. He had seensomething in her, or at least thought he had.

He’d been the father she’d never really had. Her own fatherwas a harsh man, a taskmaster.

But with kindness and affection, Robert had taught hertwice as much as the Sergeant ever had. Perhaps not a very fair or honoringcomparison. Perhaps she ought to just be grateful she had a father, where somany didn’t.

But Robert had been a father too. He’d been there for herand now he was gone. She hadn’t been there to repay the favor. She hadn’t beenable to save him.

She began to shake, her shoulders trembling now. She wantedto cry, but what would that help?

And so she just sat there, cold, shaking, breathingheavily, her eyes sealed shut, refusing to look around, and refusing toacknowledge the alley she’d backed herself into.

Was this what Robert would have wanted?

She sat there for a few moments, trembling, and then sheheard the click of shoes, the sound of a clearing throat. She felt, more thansaw, a shadow fall across her, blocking out the heat of the sun.

She didn’t want to open her eyes, she didn’t want to acknowledgewhoever was now watching her. She just wanted to be left alone.

“Agent Sharp,” said Paige, her voice soft.

Adele continued to shake. This was the worst-case scenario.The last person she wanted there.

“Adele,” the older woman’s voice probed into the alley.

Adele looked up, slowly opening her eyes. She didn’t wantto, but sometimes, there was no choice. She beheld Agent Paige, watching her. “I’msorry,” she said simply. What else could she say?

“You did good,” Paige said simply.

Adele blinked. Of all the comments she’d been expecting,this wasn’t it.

Paige crossed her arms. “I didn’t listen to you. But you’reright. There was a connection between those three houses. I should’ve paid attention.We wouldn’t have wasted time. That’s on me.”

Adele frowned now. It was a strange sort of commendation.Adele could feel some of the weight lifting from her shoulders, as if hefted byPaige, the burden carried in tandem.

“There’s too many names,” Adele said, quietly. “I don’teven know where to start.”

Paige pursed her lips, staring at Adele. Some of the usualedge returned to her tone. “You’re not supposed to do this on your own,” shesaid, sternly. “It’s the reason they pair us, Adele. Do you know who knew that?Better than anyone?”

“Who?”

“Robert. I partnered with him once before, did you knowthat? This was earlier, before your time, when the agency was just a fledglingthing. They attracted a lot of recruits with Robert. He’d been a homicide detectivewith an incredible closure rate. A bit of celebrity in Paris.”

Adele sighed, nodding slowly. She had known this. She hadknown Robert was better at his job than she was.

“I can see how he’s rubbed off on you,” Paige continued. “Iwasn’t sure at first. But there’s no denying that you’re good at your job,Adele. And you’re still young. Very young. You’re what, thirty?”

“Thirty-four,” she replied softly. For a second, the momentseemed to suspend. Was Paige complimenting her? Adele hadn’t realizedthe woman knew how. And to compare her to Robert? Adele swallowed, feeling a suddenlump in her throat. Part of her wished it was true. Another part could scarcelybelieve it. Had Robert really rubbed off on her? She missed him so much.

Agent Paige watched Adele and murmured, “Thirty-four, isthat it? You’re still a baby, Adele. I can’t imagine what sort of cases youwill be solving when you get to my age.” She shook her head, glancing off downthe alley toward the makeshift house of cardboard and cloth, and wrinkling hernose in disgust.

She sniffed delicately and then glanced out across thestreet. Some of the sunlight swept in again, over the bridge of her nose,warming Adele’s face.

“You’re not supposed to do this alone. So don’t try. I should’vebeen here earlier, and I have myself to blame for that.” It wasn’t quite anapology, but it was damn close.

“I don’t know what to do next,” Adele said, with a sigh.

“This might help,” Paige replied.

Her right hand had been against her thigh, but she liftedit now, and Adele realized she was holding a manila folder. She extended it towardAdele. “Looks like our photographic firm owner also has the sense to keep atleast some printed records. His secretary got these for me.”

With still trembling fingers, Adele took the folder andlowered it slowly to her lap, where she still sat in the alley. Paige leanedher shoulder against the alley wall, but then wrinkled her nose just as quicklyand straightened again, dusting off her shirtsleeve.

Adele looked at the older woman. “You’re not going to callFoucault?”

Paige watched Adele, tongue pressed inside her cheek. Thenshe simply shrugged. “Not yet. I’ve had worse partners…” Was that a note ofsympathy? Perhaps even pity? Adele shivered. Paige continued, though, “Justtell me what you make of that.”

Adele returned her attention to the file in hand. “What isit?” Even as