Left to Vanish (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Eight) by Blake Pierce (best adventure books to read txt) 📕

The last half hour she had made a big show of checking herwatch. But Adele was too focused to acknowledge her. She scrolled through thefiles she’d been provided. Three of the manila folders were printouts of receiptsand liquid assets. On her computer, she had bank transactions for Mrs.Churchville.

Her eyes felt dry, the poor lighting exacerbating herheadache. But she couldn’t give up, not now.

Even as she thought it, though, watched by the winking lightand the unblinking glare of Agent Paige, Adele could feel sweat forming insideher palms. She could feel the quiet, building nausea from her headache, butalso from something deeper.

She could feel the stage fright from earlier stilllingering in the background.

“It’s getting late,” Agent Paige said, her voice betrayinga flash of irritation.

Adele looked up, surprised. Paige was still pacing back andforth in the small room. Adele glanced down at the bottom right of her laptopscreen.

“Oh,” she said. “Nearly midnight.”

“We haven’t found anything,” Paige replied, staringpointedly at the pile of folders next to Adele. “Best we can do is reconvenetomorrow.”

“Don’t wait up if you don’t want to. I’m just going to goback through the financials one more time. Just in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case I missed anything,” Adele said. In case I’mcompletely out of touch, she thought quietly. In case I failed thisbefore it even started. In case I’m suffering some sort of mental breakdown.

She tried to smile, to hide her thoughts and the racingpattern of their accusations, but it came out more like a grimace, which Paigereturned.

“What are you trying to prove, Sharp?”

“Prove?”

“I get it, you work late. Now how about you come back withme so we don’t have to bother the Brits to drive both of us to the hotel.”

Adele hesitated, shaking her head. “I can call a taxi. It’sfine.”

“There’s nothing there.”

“I’d like to look one last time.”

Agent Paige threw up her hands and snorted; she spun on herheel, shaking her head as she did. Without another word, bearing the air ofsomeone simply dismissing her entirely, Agent Paige stalked back toward thedoor. She shot one more reproachful look toward Adele, then growling, bargedher shoulder into the metal surface and left the interrogation room.

Just through the closing slit, Adele spotted a brightly lithall, and the midnight precinct, without another soul in sight. She supposedbare bones would be working the night shift, which suited her just fine.

Fewer people to witness…

The door clicked shut. Sealing her in.

Witness what?

Her headache pulsed along with another sputter of the lightbulbs. She felt carsick all at once, but refused to allow herself to feel pity.She returned her attention to the laptop, scrolling through once more, her eyesdry and strained.

She desperately wanted to go for a morning jog. Take ashower back at the hotel. But no, not now. She had to focus. She felt half thedetective she’d ever been. Second-guessing herself, getting stage fright,feeling out of touch. She was alone, well and truly now.

In moments like these, in the past, she would take theopportunity to call Robert. He always knew what to do.

She allowed herself to close her eyes for a moment, butthis was no better. She heard the sputter of the bulbs above. Across her mindflashed an image. A familiar image… bleeding… bleeding, always bleeding.

Not just her mother, though, no. But also Robert, beneathhis red leather chair, tortured to death.

She remembered the small marble angel, the statue shoved inthe mud. She remembered the way she entered the house, her voice calling in thedark mansion. The fear, and then the shout. And then she’d seen what the Spade Killerhad done.

She hated him. Hated him with more than she had. And now,she feared him. Which was far worse. In the past, she had been too stupid to beafraid. Yes, that’s what it was. Stupid. Stupid enough to get Robert murdered.Stupid enough to get others hurt too. Who else was going to suffer because of—

Her phone buzzed next to her.

Adele blinked, but then pushed the device away, refusing toglance down. Probably just Paige, goading her into quitting again. But Adelecouldn’t quit. She was losing her edge. And without that, all there was leftwas effort. Stark, naked, fervent effort.

She clenched her teeth now, scrolling once more through thefinances. On one side of the screen she had Mrs. Churchville’s information, andon the other Signora Calvetti’s. “Come on,” she murmured. “Something. Just giveme something…”

Her eyes grew heavy, and the sputtering bulb above onlyirritated her further.

“Dammit,” she cursed, as the lights flickered. In a fit ofrage, she pushed from the desk, sending the chair scraping across the floor,and she lunged toward the light switch, flicking it off.

Now, in the dark interrogation room, her eyes strained towardthe blue screen.

Her headache only worsened as she leaned in, scrollingthrough the finances. Her eyes like lead. Her eyelashes fluttering, drooping,and then…

***

Her head jolted off her folded arms.

Pitch-black.

For a moment, Adele panicked. Where was she?

Her hand lashed out, striking a pile of papers and sendingthem fluttering in the dark. Her knuckles brushed against the cold lid of theborrowed laptop. She calmed a bit, breathing heavily, focusing.

She was in the precinct. In the interrogation room. The laptop’sscreen had darkened to save battery. She blinked, clearing sleep from her eyesand groaning as she tapped the keyboard. The blue screen lit up, and shespotted the time. Two in the morning. She’d dozed off.

Adele cursed beneath her breath, shaking her head andfeeling another bout of a headache.

How many people were still in the station?

She paused for a moment, both hands on the cold table, andher eyes darted to her phone, which had lit up with silent notifications.Frowning, she tapped the screen and winced. Two missed calls. One from AgentRenee, another from Agent Leoni. She shook her head, muttering to herself, andturned the phone over, facing the screen to the table.

Adele inhaled slowly, trying to focus. Financial records.That’s what she’d been going through.

But nothing. No connection points. Nothing that stood out.The second victim divorced. The first victim inherited from her late husband.

Adele blinked.

Her late husband. Robert Churchville. What if all theassets hadn’t been fully