Left to Vanish (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Eight)

Anyone close to her… Everyone was in danger. She needed a partnerwho could take care of themselves, and who even the most neutral onlooker wouldn’tsuspect of harboring any sort of fondness for Adele. Besides… the person shehad in mind also could bring a unique insight into this particular case.
“It’s nothing like that, sir,” shepressed. “I figured I could benefit from someone in the victim’s age group.Someone who might be able to think like them.”
Foucault didn’t say anything atfirst and Adele looked at the phone, making sure she hadn’t lost theconnection.
“Sir?” she ventured.
“You want another partner in thevictim’s age group…”
“Yes sir.” Adele coughed andblinked. “How about Agent Sophie Paige, sir?” She winced, waiting. Sophie Paigeloathed Adele, ever since an incident when Adele had last worked at theDGSI, years ago. She’d reported missing evidence, which Paige had taken toprotect her then-husband. Adele hadn’t known who’d taken the evidence at thetime. In the end, all parties had been cleared of wrongdoing, and Foucault hadgone to bat for Agent Paige.
It was still something of amystery why the Executive was so protective of Agent Paige. Some whisperedinfidelity, others thought blackmail. Adele wasn’t so sure, though.
Either way, Paige hated Adele’sguts. Even the Spade Killer wouldn’t be stupid enough to think Sophie Paige wasa friend or a worthwhile target. In a strange twist, Sophie’s hatred of Adelewould keep her safe. It had to. Adele couldn’t think of any other options.
“You’re sure?” said Foucault. Andeven the Executive, who knew the extent of the division between the older andyounger agent, couldn’t keep the note of surprise from his tone.
“Yes sir, very sure. Agent Paigewill be perfect on this case.”
“All right, Adele. I’m giving youa bit of leeway on this one. Remember, though, even a whiff of baggage,and I’m pulling you.”
“Got it.”
“I mean it. I know you lostsomeone, Sharp. But our job can’t afford distractions. Already, two women havebeen killed in their homes. Mothers, both of them. The killer is escalating.Two dead in three days.”
Adele bit her lower lip. “I understand,sir. If another body drops, it’s on me.”
“Let’s just make sure that doesn’thappen. You’d best get going now. I’ll have Agent Paige meet you at the airportwith the tickets and itinerary. Good luck, Agent Sharp. Catch this bastardbefore he kills again.”
***
Adele wasn’t quite sure where tolook. For one, on her open laptop which rested against the lowered tray, shehad the gruesome crime scene photos. On the other, she could feel the ghoulishglances Sophie Paige kept shooting in her direction where she sat next to Adelein the aisle seat.
Sophie Paige was middle-aged withsilver hair and severe features like a nun from the fifties, or a sternsubstitute teacher. She was also one of the more experienced DGSI agents in thebranch.
Their elbows had brushed once, inthe first few minutes of the flight, during take-off, and Adele had practicallybanged her head against the window, trying to distance herself.
Now, Agent Paige and Adele hadsettled into a sort of game of cat and mouse with their elbows and the sharedarmrest. Each of them doing their best to avoid any sort of physical contactwith the other, despite the crowded nature of the airplane’s seating.
The twin nozzles of air above werein opposite postures. Adele had turned hers on, which had promptly seen AgentPaige turn hers completely off. Adele’s reading light was on, which meant Paige’swas off. Adele’s laptop was open, her tray table down, which meant Paige wasnow scrolling through her phone, leaning back and shooting reproachful glances towardthe younger woman.
“Well?” Paige said, gruffly,breaking a silence that had lasted an impressive five minutes this time. “Anything?”
Adele blinked a few times,wincing, feeling how dry her eyes were from the steady nozzle spray of airconditioning. Then again, she refused to turn it off and give Paige the satisfaction.So, determinedly tilting her head down to avoid the brunt of the air nozzle,she refocused on the crime scene photos once more.
“Beads?” Adele murmured, zoomingin on the ligature marks of the first victim’s neck. She winced at the red andpurplish bruising around the throat.
“Why would a killer use beads?”Paige asked, her tone icy.
“Don’t know. Any guesses?”
“No.”
“Do you see anything?”
Paige sighed, but then scrolledthrough her phone again. She tapped the device with a straight, manicuredfinger sans polish. “Might be pearls,” she said. “Both of them are wealthy.Seems like the sort of thing people in their income brackets might use.”
“Pearls? I didn’t think of that.Do you think they’re being targeted for theft?”
“I don’t know, Agent Sharp. It’s atheory.”
Adele pursed her lips, feeling astrange sense of ease at the clear disdain emanating from Paige. Clearly, oldgrudges still carried weight where the senior DGSI operative was concerned.
“Let me ask you another thing,”Paige said.
Adele looked over now, meeting themiddle-aged woman’s severe gaze. Such a strange thought that a woman like thishad raised five children of her own, while simultaneously having a successfulcareer with the DGSI. From all the stories she’d heard, Paige was an excellentmother. Which only made her hatred for Adele all the more odd.
“Yes?” Adele said.
“Foucault mentioned you requestedme, specifically.”
“I—yes.”
“Why? It’s no secret that…”
“You don’t like me?”
“You don’t like me either.”
“I don’t have a problem with you,Agent Paige.” This was actually true. Adele sometimes felt uneasy around theother agent, but from everything she knew, Paige was a capable crime-solver.
Sophie snorted. “Why?”
Adele hesitated, shrugging. “Ifelt like you could bring something to the case.”
“Foucault said it was because youthink I’m old. Like the victims.”
Adele winced. “I didn’t say that.”
“That’s what Foucault said.” Paigeturned back to her phone now, scowling as she scrolled through the coroner’sinitial report.
Adele sighed, returning herattention to her laptop and settling in for a long flight, pressed tightagainst the iciest of shoulders. The pictures showed the means of murder. Butif they wanted to nab this guy before he murdered again, she needed to see thecrime scene itself.
What sort of killer avoidedsecurity systems, crept into a guesthouse to strangle a wealthy woman? A cleverman, for one. A vicious man. A strong one—to be able to choke life from a body.What else, though? What specific sort of sickness had motivated the bastard?
She supposed she’d have to waitand