by Blake Pierce
“Oh dear,” Adele said, finding tears suddenly springing up and slipping down her face. “Oh dear,” she repeated. It felt like she couldn’t think of another word. “Oh,” she said, exhaling deeply, “dear.”
Robert just looked at her, his gaunt face pressed against his pillow. He was sitting upright, and he watched her as she wept. “Don’t cry, my darling,” he said, softly. “See, they gave me a room with a window. I asked, and they moved me.”
Adele took a couple of stumbling steps forward, allowing her luggage to fall from her fingertips and thump against the floor. She approached Robert and reached out, squeezing at his hand. “Robert, Robert,” she said, wheezing.
“There, there,” he said, softly, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. He smiled at her, warmth emanating from his gaze. He leaned over and kissed the back of her hand.
“Robert, what’s the matter? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Robert held her hand and pressed his other against it. His fingers were so very frail, his grip so very weak.
“Darling Adele,” he said, softly, “you always want to know everything.” He chuckled. “It’s what makes you such a great investigator.”
“Robert, you should’ve told me.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know.”
She stared at him. “How couldn’t you know? You’ve been coughing, and I’ve seen—”
“I didn’t want to know. I could sense,” he said, nodding at her, smiling softly. “I could sense I was nearing the end of my story. But I didn’t want to know how. That’s cheating. Looking in the back of the book.” He chuckled.
And for a moment, as he reclined back and gave a small, satisfied sigh, Adele thought of his red leather chair, facing the fire in his study. She thought of the pile of books upon the coffee table next to him. She thought of the long conversations they would have at night, well into the morning, staring at the burning blaze turning to ash.
She thought of his warmth, his hugs, his laughter. She thought of the cupboard full of chocolate cereal he kept just for her. The plastic bowls he’d bought just to match the one her mother had once gifted her.
She thought of his invitations to his mansion, giving her freedom to live in his house as if it were her own.
“How bad is it?” she said.
Robert gave a little cough. He shook his head. “They say it’s half the size of a football,” he chuckled sharply.
She stared.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” he said. “I lost my teeth in a football match, you know.” He reached up and pointed at his missing teeth.
“I thought you said they were taken out in a boxing match in Belarus.”
Robert waved airily. “That happened too.”
“The tumor is that big?”
“Three of them,” he said, “in fact. But they’re going to try to operate this weekend.”
Adele felt a flicker of hope. “And?”
He shrugged. “Went from my stomach and hit my lymph nodes. Seems like even if they had caught it months ago, it wouldn’t matter.”
Adele felt the hope leave her, draining from her and leaving her gaunt like blood sucked from one of Mr. Davis’s victims. “How long do you have?” she said, breathlessly.
Robert rubbed his thumb across her knuckles again. “That would be reading the back of the book,” he said. “I don’t know.”
“Robert, this isn’t a book. It’s your life. I need you,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t do this without you.”
Robert looked at her, and for the first time since she’d entered the room his smile failed completely and tears began to spill from his own eyes.
He looked at her and held her gaze. There was a bravery there, an unwillingness to look away. “Adele,” he said, his voice firm, “you’re stronger than you think.”
She shook her head, now blubbering, feeling snot bubbles forming and tears slipping down her cheeks. She knew she looked a mess, but this was the one person for whom it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t care what she looked like. “Robert, I can’t. You can’t go. Please,” she said, desperately. “Please, you need to stay.”
Robert looked at her, and then he coughed. He leaned back and inhaled, drawing in air. “Adele, all of us leave eventually.”
“I know that.”
He looked at her. “You never did. It’s why you have this job. You think you can stop it. My dear, my lovely, precious, beautiful, wonderful child. You think you can stop it.”
She looked at him. “This can’t be it.”
Robert chuckled. “Some say it isn’t. Executive Foucault was down here yesterday. I gave him the satisfaction of a prayer.”
Adele winced and smiled despite herself, despite the tears, despite her snotty nose. “He had you pray?”
Robert grinned at her now, and wagged his head. “It didn’t particularly make me feel better, but it did seem to help him.”
Adele gave an ugly, snorting bark of laughter. She didn’t care, though. “Are you scared?”
Robert shook his head. “No, darling. In our job, if you spend so much time around death, it eventually loses its bite.”
She looked at him and shivered. She remembered where she was standing. A hospital. She thought of her mother. She thought of the last case. She stared at her old mentor, and all the humor had bled from her voice. “Not for me,” she whispered.
Robert looked at her and patted her hand. “I know. I know. But eventually,” he said, quiet, “eventually, the fear goes away.”
“Why? How could it?”
“Adele,” he said, looking at her.
“What?” She wasn’t as brave as him. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She kept her hand extended, pressed against his blankets, feeling the soft touch of his grip. But she simply couldn’t look him in the eyes.
He said, “This matters.”
She glanced down. “I know.”
But he gave her hand a little jerk. “No, listen to me. This matters. It hurts. And so, it matters.”
“I know that,” she said.
He held her hand, though, firmly now. “You’re not hearing me. Your life matters. Maybe the Executive is right. And maybe we meet again. Maybe he’s wrong, and maybe this is dust to dust, nothing to nothing. But I need you to promise me you’re not going to fall for the lie that you can’t do this. There are others who will love you, Adele. Listen to me. No, don’t pull away, listen. This is important. If there’s one thing you hear from me, this is it. I’m not the only one that will love you in your life—you have my promise. That’s impossible. There are so many that will find love for you. But you have to give them the chance. Understand? Don’t be afraid to love first. Don’t you dare. While there’s life, while it lasts, that’s when it matters.”
She looked at him. “You’re talking like you’re dead already.”
He smiled. “Not yet. Not quite yet. Adele, you can do this. I know you’ve lost so much.” He sobbed now, suddenly, the sound shaking in the room. “You lost too much. And it isn’t fair. But there’s just as much love to replace that which was taken. You save so many lives. You’ve helped so many families. People who could’ve had mothers taken. Daughters taken. Brothers, sons, fathers. You stopped it. But now, you need to promise me one thing.”
Adele looked at him, and just waited.
“You have to help yourself. Let it go. Let it go.”
“Let what go?” she whispered.
He stared her straight in the eyes. “You know what. Please, for my sake, for yours, let it go. And call your father, Adele. Life is too short.”
Her father… she hadn’t thought of him in a while, since their falling out. Adele felt like she had a headache now. Robert wasn’t making much sense. At least, she didn’t think he was. Perhaps that was part of the cancer. She just nodded, hoping perhaps this would put him at ease. He leaned back in the pillows now and patted her hand again. “Go,” he said, “you don’t need to stay. I like looking out the window.”
; Adele snorted. “You better believe I’m staying through the night.”
Robert chuckled. “I’m not sure they’ll let you.”
Adele grunted. “Yeah? You’re a wanted fugitive. I have to keep an eye on you. If they try to prevent me, they’re breaking the law. So there.”
Robert was chuckling so hard now he began to cough, and it sent his body shaking painfully.
Adele watched her old mentor, each of the retching sounds sending a bolt of agony through her own chest. She moved over toward the chair next to his bed. She sat down and pressed her hand against his, holding it.
It was still the afternoon. Hours, or hours after, it didn’t matter. She would stay the night. And God help any nurse or doctor who tried to get her to leave.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Adele ended up staying two days at the hospital. Twice, a doctor tried to get her to leave—the first time had required her badge, the second, her pistol. Eventually, though, they’d left her in peace. However, Adele felt certain that it was more due to their fondness for Robert rather than anything she’d said that allowed them to bend the rules.
They spent the time as they often had, talking, sitting side by side. It wasn’t the same as leather chairs facing a fire, but they did end up finding a TV station that mimicked a fireplace. They left it on well into the night. Nurses had tried to insist Robert get his sleep, but Agent Henry had refused. And though Adele had tried to insist as well, he’d scolded her and then launched into another story about how the agency used to be in “the good old days.”
Adele had listened, tears perpetually in her eyes. By the second day, she’d stopped crying. Not because she didn’t want to cry, or because the sadness had left, but because sheer exhaustion and dehydration seemed to have dried her tears.
Now, she’d promised to return after a shower and a meal besides hospital food. Robert had insisted. Secretly, she suspected he hadn’t wanted her around for palliative treatment. And though she hated herself for it, she hadn’t wanted to be there.
Exhaustion lay heavy, accompanied by its close friends, shame and guilt, as she trudged up her apartment steps, her carry-on clutched in one tired hand. Too many emotions over the last few days. Laughter, tears—now, all Adele wanted to do was sleep for a year.
She marched up the steps, dragging her carry-on bumping against each marble slab. She passed her landlord’s unit and smiled down the banister toward it. The old lady in 1A was a feisty woman—she’d helped on a case before. Or, at least, had tried to.
Adele reached her own unit, curling up the stairs and coming to a stop in front of the brown door.
She placed her bag on the ground, huffing a sigh and feeling the weight of anxiety lift as it was wont to do when near one’s home.
But her breath caught. She frowned.
Bent over.
Something was on the doormat.
She stooped now, bending at the knee, some of the exhaustion fading to be replaced by a prickle of curiosity.
Not just that, but the curiosity was quickly replaced by a sudden jolt. She looked sharply up and down the hall. Empty. She hadn’t seen anyone on the stairs. She cursed and sprinted toward the next flight, looking up; no one.
She glanced warily, trembling now, her eyes flitting to her neighbors’ doors. None were open. No one was watching.
She turned, slowly, like in a horror movie when someone faced a ghost. Her eyes fixed on the item next to her carry-on, left on the doormat.
A Carambar. The same candy her mother had loved so dearly.
Trembling, her knees weak, she approached. Days lacking sleep, shedding tears, panic, all swirled through her at once. And her fingertips shook as she reached out and picked up the candy.
Still shaking, she pulled on either end of the wrapper, watching it twirl open. She spotted words written in marker on the inside. She gently lowered the candy onto her carry-on, careful not to touch too much of it—hard to lift a print, but possible.
She held the Carambar in a shivering grasp and stared at the words scrawled in blocky handwriting inside the candy wrapper.
I miss her too.
Adele yelled and threw the wrapper toward her door. It flicked and fluttered like a leaf on the wind and then drifted slowly to the ground, curling up one last time before settling just beneath the door.
She stared at the writing, her eyes blazing, her teeth set. Some of the dull, dreary emotions from the week began to fade, replaced now by an excited prickle along her spine.
She’d been on the right track. The killer had been spooked. He thought he was taunting her, playing with her—but he’d just made his first huge mistake.
She stared at the wrapper, breathing heavily, her fingers still shaking as she reached for her phone.
But just then, as if sensing her attention, the phone began to ring.
Adele frowned, staring down at her side, and then, as if in slow motion, she reached for the device and picked it up. For half a second, she expected the call to be coming from her mother’s killer. But no—the office. Foucault’s number.
“Sir?” she said, swallowing back any ounce of emotion.
“Agent Sharp?” said a voice on the other end.
Not Foucault, though. A female voice. It took Adele a second to realize it was Agent Sophie Paige.
“Yes?” Adele said.
“You’re back in France?” said Agent Paige. Sophie’s voice lacked its usual latent hostility. Which only sent another tremble through Adele’s body.
“Paris, yes,” said Adele, curt, her eyes still fixed on the Carambar.
“I—I don’t know how to say this,” Paige said, slowly. “But you’re going to want to see this.”
“See what?”
“A murder,” said Paige.
“So soon?” said Adele. “Just got back from the hospital, is it—”
“It’s my case—that’s not why. Look, Adele… I know the timing is poor. But this body… Whoever killed them…” Agent Paige struggled to find the words, but then she said. “It’s identical to your mother’s murder. You should come by.”
Adele stood quietly for a moment, closing her eyes and then opening them again, fixating on the Carambar. For a moment, it all felt like a dream. She felt certain she hadn’t heard Paige correctly. Was she joking?
“Adele?” said Agent Paige. “Did you hear me?”
Adele didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate, and with a voice that snapped like a bear trap, she said, “Tell me where. I’m on my way.”
NOW AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER!
LEFT TO ENVY
(An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book 6)
“When you think that life cannot get better, Blake Pierce comes up with another masterpiece of thriller and mystery! This book is full of twists and the end brings a surprising revelation. I strongly recommend this book to the permanent library of any reader that enjoys a very well written thriller.”
--Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (re Almost Gone)
LEFT TO ENVY is book #6 in a new FBI thriller series by USA Today bestselling author Blake Pierce, whose #1 bestseller Once Gone (Book #1) (a free download) has received over 1,000 five star reviews.
In the Sistine Chapel, the first tourists of the day look up—and are horrified to find a dead body affixed by ropes to the ceiling.
More victims soon appear, strung up in similarly dramatic fashion on other major attractions throughout Europe.
Who is killing them? Why? Who will be next?
And is FBI Special Agent Adele Sharp—triple agent of the U.S., France and Germany—brilliant enough to enter the serial killer’s mind and stop him before it’s too late?
An action-packed mystery series of international intrigue and riveting suspense, LEFT TO ENVY will have you turning pages late into the night.
Book #7 in the series—LEFT TO LAPSE—is now also available.
LEFT TO ENVY
(An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book 6)
Did you know that I've written multi
ple novels in the mystery genre? If you haven't read all my series, click the image below to download a series starter!
Blake Pierce
Blake Pierce is the USA Today bestselling author of the RILEY PAGE mystery series, which includes seventeen books. Blake Pierce is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE mystery series, comprising fourteen books; of the AVERY BLACK mystery series, comprising six books; of the KERI LOCKE mystery series, comprising five books; of the MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE mystery series, comprising six books; of the KATE WISE mystery series, comprising seven books; of the CHLOE FINE psychological suspense mystery, comprising six books; of the JESSE HUNT psychological suspense thriller series, comprising fourteen books (and counting); of the AU PAIR psychological suspense thriller series, comprising three books; of the ZOE PRIME mystery series, comprising four books (and counting); of the new ADELE SHARP mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the new EUROPEAN VOYAGE cozy mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); and of the new LAURA FROST FBI suspense thriller.
ONCE GONE (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1), BEFORE HE KILLS (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1), CAUSE TO KILL (An Avery Black Mystery—Book 1), A TRACE OF DEATH (A Keri Locke Mystery—Book 1), WATCHING (The Making of Riley Paige—Book 1), NEXT DOOR (A Chloe Fine Psychological Suspense Mystery—Book 1), THE PERFECT WIFE (A Jessie Hunt Psychological Suspense Thriller—Book One), and IF SHE KNEW (A Kate Wise Mystery—Book 1) are each available as a free download on Amazon!
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
BOOKS BY BLAKE PIERCE
LAURA FROST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
ALREADY GONE (Book #1)
ALREADY SEEN (Book #2)
