by Blake Pierce
Perhaps, at least for now, some skeletons were best left buried in the closet.
If it saved lives, she supposed she could wait a moment.
Perhaps she was losing her instincts as an investigator. Perhaps she never had them. Agent Paige seemed to think she was at least somewhat good at her job. But Robert was dead. Her mother was dead. And for now, the killer had escaped custody. If she didn’t hurry, she’d receive the ultimate proof she had never known what she was doing to begin with.
She simply couldn’t let that happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Adele watched their third taxi driver in the same day shoot uncomfortable glances toward Agent Paige. The older detective had her sidearm resting in her lap while examining the device.
Despite the obvious discomfort of their chauffeur, Agent Paige remained on task, saying, “Repeat that for me; are you sure?”
Adele, sitting in the backseat, lowered her phone, her cheek prickling from where the device had been pressed moments before. She swallowed, saying, “He has a record. Hassling some of the property owners, even stooping to vandalism.”
Agent Paige glanced back, mercifully tucking her gun back into the holster. “Violent?”
Adele shrugged. “It sounds like Mr. Gregor Lavigne snuck into the basement of one of the new constructions and set fire to the place. According to him, he’d been told the building was slated for demolition anyway.”
Agent Paige whistled softly, and then, her eyes darting, she snapped, “Keep your eyes on the road.” She tapped the GPS with a firm finger, “Get us there, fast.” The driver snapped to attention, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. Paige returned her attention to Adele as if nothing had happened. “So he tried to burn down the house?”
“According to the police report, which is from seven years ago, he was just trying to send a message. To his credit, no one was living in the house at the time.”
“Still, arson, harassment, vandalism.” Paige nodded, returning her attention through the windshield to the road as they moved quickly through the coastal region. The address for Gregor Lavigne led to a less reputable, more run down part of the town. Adele could feel her heart hammering as they moved quickly. She checked her phone again as it buzzed, sliding to the file sent to her by the local police. Again, she scanned through the contents, reading the police reports with quick, skimming bursts in between glances out the window.
She could feel her heart quickening, her eyes fixed through the windshield ahead.
Adele said, quickly, “Is the address right?”
The taxi driver cleared his throat. “Number fifteen,” he said, “yes?”
Adele nodded, pressing back now and lowering her phone. Her own hand strayed to her firearm at her hip. She pressed her fingers to the holster, closing her eyes for a moment and feeling a strange reassurance.
There were closing in. Gregor Lavigne, of Lavigne Preservation, had a history with the victims, trying to get their properties with lowball offers. He’d been proven to have a temper according to Mr. Becker, citing God and his faith as entitlements to these properties. And now it had become clear he had a rap sheet as well. Arson, vandalism, harassment. Could he have escalated?
She leaned forward now, peering past the taxi driver’s shoulder, her eyes fixed ahead. The driver was slowing, rolling past some of the more run-down, single-story houses lining either side of the street. A couple of duplexes, and even some townhouses at the edge of a cul-de-sac were also worn, with old coats of paint, and yards given to neglect.
Adele scanned the peeling numbers on one of the houses… 12.
“We’re getting close,” she said.
At that moment, she heard the rumble of an engine. She looked ahead, brow furrowing, as an old gray sedan with a duct-taped window began to back out of a communal driveway.
They continued to trundle forward along the curb, the tires scraping against the cement. Adele’s eyes landed on the two digits of the house outside the shared driveway.
15.
“That’s it,” she said, suddenly pointing.
Agent Paige leaned forward, looking through the windshield at the car backing out. “Is that him? Is that him?” she repeated, urgently.
Adele rolled down her own window, trying to get a good look. For a moment, as the car backed out, she glimpsed a swarthy face with a thick, bushy beard.
The beard was more wild than it had been in the photo the police had provided her, but the man’s squinting eyes and comb-over were unmistakable.
“It’s him, it’s him!” Adele said.
Agent Paige yelled out of the front of the car. “Stop!”
This didn’t work. The car backing out of the drive continued to pick up pace.
“Block him off,” Agent Paige said hurriedly.
Instead, the taxi driver froze, instinctively slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting the car.
“Dammit,” Paige screamed.
Ahead, through the windshield, Adele thought she spotted Mr. Lavigne glance into the rearview mirror. His squinting eyes widened in his fuzzy face, and for a moment, their eyes locked.
Adele breathed heavily, willing the man to put his car in park, to stop.
And for a moment, it seemed like that was exactly what he might do.
Adele watched with bated breath, waiting as the car paused at the edge of the driveway, its red brake lights flashing, one of them dimmer than the other. For a moment, everything seemed frozen in time.
And then Mr. Lavigne’s car screeched, jerking backward and pulling sharply away, picking up speed as it began to move down the road, back toward the highway.
“Dammit,” Agent Paige repeated. “Get out now, get out, you imbecile!” She shoved sharply at the taxi driver, who tried to protest, but Agent Paige said, “Government necessity. Get out.”
The taxi driver seemed ready to protest further, but as Agent Paige shoved at his shoulder, her clothing shifted, revealing her holster once more, and trembling and cursing, the driver quickly slid out of the front seat, moving onto the sidewalk.
“He’s getting away,” Adele shouted.
Agent Paige was already sliding in the driver’s seat, not bothering to buckle, before putting the car in drive and with an equally loud screech, tearing away from the curb and spinning the car, leaving rubber on the ground as she aimed for the fleeing jalopy.
Adele could hear the protests and shouts of the taxi driver behind them, feeling a jolt of sympathy and making a mental note to make sure the man was compensated for any damage or wasted time. But for now, Mr. Lavigne was getting further away.
She watched as the duct-taped window turned, along with the rest of the jalopy, moving on to the larger road leading away from the side street.
“Go, go!” Adele shouted.
Agent Paige didn’t need a second invitation. Still unbuckled, she slammed her foot into the gas, and the car screeched again, fully turned now, skidding out of the cul-de-sac and up the street.
The taxi shuddered and rattled with the rapid acceleration, and Adele gripped the backrest of Paige’s seat, her wide eyes fixed on the car ahead.
The old car was turning again, moving toward the highway now.
“Hurry, before he gets away!”
Paige growled and spun the wheel again, this time tearing out onto the larger road and moving across three lanes of traffic. Luckily, only a couple of cars were on the roads, and only one of them honked as she flew up the street, following Mr. Lavigne’s vehicle.
Agent Paige leaned on the horn, but this only seemed to increase the car’s speed in front of them.
“He’s running,” Paige snapped.
“He doesn’t know we’re police,” Adele retorted, feeling her heart hammer. “We’re in a taxi. We have to cut him off! He’s not going to pull over.”
Agent Paige gunned the engine, speeding now, catching up to the car as they both pulled out onto the highway, merging into a fast lane of traffic.
A large truck m
erged into the same lane as they did, and Agent Paige had to skip onto the shoulder for a second, to avoid a collision. The truck behind them leaned on its horn, and Adele’s heart jolted.
That was close. Still, she could see Mr. Lavigne now moving into the left lane, heading toward one of the ramps.
“Go!” Adele said quickly. “We have to cut him off. Get him to pull onto the shoulder!”
“Call backup,” Paige snapped. “He’s running.”
Adele wasn’t so sure, though. The eccentric and entitled preservationist had seen them pull up, no doubt, but there was nothing about them to suggest they were law enforcement. For all he knew, he was being chased down by two crazies. Still, she fished her phone out, preparing to call but keeping her eyes on the road ahead as Agent Paige moved in and out of traffic, trying to catch up with the surprisingly quick jalopy.
Their taxi continued to grumble and shake as they raced forward.
“He’s going to take the exit!” Adele shouted, her phone forgotten for the moment. “Get in front of him, get in front!”
Agent Paige gritted her teeth, jolting the wheel to avoid an SUV moving too slowly in the left lane. She veered in front of another truck, passed the SUV, and now came directly behind the jalopy.
They were so close they were practically bumper-to-bumper.
Adele could see the widened eyes reflected in the mirror ahead of them again.
She glimpsed Mr. Lavigne flash a middle finger in the mirror and then quickly merge, moving off the highway to the exit.
“Before he turns!” Adele said quickly.
At the same time she glanced up at the large signs over the road. A small white etching of a plane indicated this was an exit that led to the airport.
Paige remained focused, still bumper-to-bumper with the fleeing jalopy. Mr. Lavigne picked up speed as well, trying to distance himself from what he likely assumed was a crazed taxi.
Paige continued to lean on the horn, and now Mr. Lavigne returned it, blaring back at them.
“Careful,” Adele shouted.
Paige slammed on the brakes just as Lavigne did too.
She nearly slammed into the back of the car, but then the jalopy sped forward again, leaving them stalled behind.
Paige growled, and floored the gas again.
“Hang on tight,” she insisted. And then Agent Paige quickly veered onto the shoulder, slamming along the security rail and scraping the side of the taxi against the gray metal. Adele winced, but at the same time, Agent Paige, with this same maneuver, pulled sharply in front of the fleeing vehicle. Apparently the taxi at maximum speed was a bit faster than the preservationist’s old, worn out car.
Adele heard the sound of squeaking tires, slamming brakes, and screeching horns. At the same time, Agent Paige brought their car to a full halt, guiding the jalopy off the edge of the road.
Luckily, Mr. Lavigne had slammed on the brakes as well. His vehicle screeched, and with a scraping protest, crunched against the metal barrier on the opposite side of the road. Adele heard something shatter, likely a headlight, and she heard more blaring horns, this time coming from behind the stalled cars.
But she was already throwing open her door, gun in her hand, shouting, “DGSI, hands where I can see them!”
The moment the gun appeared, the honking behind them faded. A truck and two SUVs were trying to get past, but now, at the sight of Agent Paige and Adele, both armed, they began to back up quickly. One of the SUVs even pulled off the shoulder, wheeling back and nearly slamming into the cement divider.
“Out,” Adele screamed. “Out with your hands up!”
The bearded man in the front shouted incoherently. His window rolled down, though, but both of his hands were still out of sight.
“Show me your hands!” Adele screamed.
“Are you insane?” a voice was yelling from within the car. “Idiots!”
“DGSI,” Adele shouted. “Show me your hands!”
With his window down, at this declaration, Mr. Lavigne froze, looking sharply up at her. His squinting eyes peered out from a bearded face. His comb-over was slick with sweat, likely from the excitement of the chase.
Agent Paige was circling the other side of the car, her own gun pointed toward the window. She slid past the window covered in duct tape, growling loud enough for him to hear, “If I don’t see your hands in the next five seconds…”
Mr. Lavigne’s hands were still beneath the steering wheel. For a moment, he seemed caught in a decision, but then, as the two agents circled toward the front of his stalled car, and Adele spotted the smashed headlight, fragments of glass scattered across the highway, he finally raised his hands slowly, placing them on the steering wheel.
“All right, turn off your car,” Agent Paige snapped.
“You want to see my hands or have me turn off the car?” Mr. Lavigne snapped back.
Instead of answering, Adele jolted forward, reaching through the open window and pulling the keys.
She stepped back just as quickly, snapping her weapon to attention. She gripped the keys, staring at the stalled car, breathing heavily.
“Get out slowly,” Paige growled.
Mr. Lavigne was breathing heavily, shaking his head quickly, “What is this about?” he demanded. “You have no right.”
“We can talk after you get out of your car,” Adele shouted.
Reluctantly, Mr. Lavigne reached toward the door, putting his hand outside to use the external handle, making sure his fingers were still in full view. He gave a sarcastic roll of his eyes, and then slowly opened the door, sliding out the front seat. “You’re gonna hear from my lawyers,” he scoffed. “You better believe the city’s going to pay. Oh yes, they’re going to pay. You two idiots have just made my life. I don’t know how stupid you can be. You could’ve killed me.” He reached up, rubbing at his neck and wincing. “In fact, I think I’m injured. Yeah, ouch. That hurts.”
Adele kept her weapon raised. Agent Paige was glaring, saying, “I’ll show you what hurts if you don’t shut up. Keep your hands up. Interlock them behind your neck.”
At the same time, Paige glanced over the car in Adele’s direction, and gave a significant nod toward the waiting vehicle.
Adele returned the look, and, allowing Paige to keep Mr. Lavigne secure, Adele quickly holstered her weapon and moved around to the back of the car. She peered through the windows and spotted a black duffel bag.
She opened the back door, ignoring Mr. Lavigne’s protests, and reached for the duffel bag. She unzipped it quickly, glancing inside, but only found folded shirts and clothing.
She shook her head. “Come on, come on,” she muttered to herself, her voice muffled by the steel frame of the vehicle. She bent over the luggage, then paused, her fingers grazing a paper protrusion out of the side pocket. Frowning to herself, she pulled the item completely free of the pocket, examining it.
A plane ticket.
Her heart jumped. She stared at the plane ticket, blinking in surprise. She turned it over quickly, examining the date.
“I have a ticket here!” she called out into the air.
“Where to?” Paige responded.
“Spain,” replied Mr. Lavigne, the fury still audible in his tone. “So what. It’s not illegal to fly to Spain. What are you doing—you can’t go through my stuff!”
Paige growled. “There are two possible targets in Spain, Adele,” she called out.
“Targets?” Lavigne said, swallowing. “What are you talking about?”
Adele ignored this and lowered the ticket, glancing back into the duffel bag.
“You fly frequently?” Agent Paige was saying, her voice muffled from outside the car. “I bet you do, don’t you. Been to Germany recently?”
Mr. Lavigne retorted, “I travel a lot for my job.”
For her part, Adele’s eyes were caught by something wedged in the side of the duffel bag. She reached out, pulling a Bible from the side. But what had caught her attention was the glinting, ebony
carving dangling over the edge of the Bible. She pulled, and realized she was now holding a rosary.
Her heart skipped a beat.
She lowered the Bible carefully, respectfully, placing it back on the clothing, but then held the rosary, lifting it up and over the roof of the car, showing it in Agent Paige’s direction.
The response was instant.
“Turn around,” Agent Paige snapped. “Mr. Lavigne, you’re under arrest!”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Adele stood shoulder to shoulder with Agent Paige, standing beneath the winking red light from the recording camera behind them over the one-way window. The blaring white lights from the fluorescent bulbs above the interrogation table beat down mercilessly.
Mr. Lavigne blinked in the light, his hands cuffed in front of him, the chain looped through a metal bracket protruding from the steel surface. His eyes stared straight ahead, fixated on the one-way glass mirror, the rest of him rigid and stern as if sealed to the chair itself.
Adele risked a quick glance at her watch, swallowing as she did.
Five minutes without response to any of their questions.
Five minutes of complete silence.
“We know it was you,” Agent Paige said, trying a new angle as she stepped around the table and banged an open hand against the metal surface. “No use denying it. You killed them, why?”
The preservationist didn’t blink, didn’t move. He remained rooted in place.
“You can’t expect to get away with it,” Paige pressed, leaning in now, her shadow swelling across his cautious form. “Why not just come clean. Tell us why you did it. Then you can speak with anyone you want. Do you have family, Gregor? Anyone who misses you, waiting to see you? We can bring this to a quick close if you just speak honestly with us. Well? How about it?”
Adele had to hand it to Paige. The way she moved her whole body while interrogating the suspect suggested years of practice. She transitioned seamlessly from overbearing and firm to accommodating and considerate. She used the light shining above her like a sort of spotlight, moving her body nearly imperceptibly to allow more or less light past her shoulders as she pressed for information.
