Left to Murder (Adele Sharp #5) - Blake Pierce Page 0,10

another fit of coughing. He held up a finger, as if to say, one moment.

Adele frowned, sitting in her own chair. She waited as Robert gathered himself. As she did, she could feel a flash of a hunger headache, and her stomach rumbled. Despite herself, and feeling a bit guilty, she reached for the chocolate cereal that he’d left for her on the table. A glass of milk sat next to it. She poured the milk into the bowl and gratefully began munching away.

After a few bites, and after Robert seemed to have recovered, she said, “You don’t look well.”

He snorted. “Adele, I’m fine. What did you want to talk about? You seemed upset on the phone.”

She paused a moment and thought of how she had behaved back at the factory. She thought about the frustration she’d felt, and the anger directed toward the helpless employee. She thought about her mother, about Gobert’s shop. She thought about the Carambars.

She passed a hand wearily across her countenance, trying to steady her own nerves. “If I’m honest, it wasn’t pretty,” she said, softly.

“I’m sorry, dear. Is it a case?”

She looked at him, and again spotted just how gaunt his face seemed. His cheekbones were too sharp, his eyes too dark. “Robert… you don’t look well. Stop telling me—”

Before she could finish, her phone began to ring, the vibrating emanating from her sweater pocket. Frowning, she fished her phone out.

“Sorry,” she muttered, “it’s work.” She clicked the phone, held it up to her ear. “Can it wait?” she asked.

“Afraid not,” said the voice on the other end. She immediately recognized it as the voice of Executive Foucault’s assistant. “He wants you in. You’re needed over at the office.”

Adele massaged the bridge of her nose with her free hand, the cold phone still pressed against her cheek. She wanted to shout in frustration, but instead said quietly, “I’m on my way.”

She lowered the phone and looked at Robert.

“You’re going in?”

She nodded.

“Anything to do with what happened this morning?”

She sighed and shrugged. “Not sure. This isn’t over,” she added, pointing at him. “If you need anything…” Her voice softened and she watched her old mentor. “I hope you know all you have to do is ask.”

Robert Henry made a crossing motion over his chest, and then kissed his fingers. “I’m fine, darling. Would these lips lie to you, my dear?” He smiled, and for a moment, she saw her usual, jovial mentor sitting across from her in his leather seat. He still had two missing teeth, glimpsed above his smile. She had heard at least ten stories regarding how he had lost those teeth.

Sighing, she pushed up, taking another few mouthfuls of cereal. Her growling stomach would have to wait.

“Look,” she said, “I’ll be back. Thanks for the cereal.”

“No worries,” he said. “I hope everything turns out okay.” Then he broke into another series of coughing.

The sound haunted her, and for a moment she paused in the doorway. She wanted to stop, to refuse the call into the office. To figure out what was up with her friend. But when Robert wanted to be quiet, he could keep his secrets with the best of them. She’d heard stories of him once being captured by a gang of drug runners in Bordeaux. The stories said he’d been tortured, but hadn’t said a word. Stories about Robert often circulated around the DGSI. He had been one of their best operators from the very start, and had led a long, tenured career before the agency had even formed.

“I’ll be thinking of you,” she said.

He gave a little wave of his fingers, then leaned back as if exhausted in his chair.

She felt a surge of fear rising up in her. Perhaps she needed to go for another run in the afternoon. But somehow, even the runs weren’t doing what they used to. The fear seemed hard to suppress. She had to convince herself Robert would be okay. He had to be. She moved out of the mansion door, down the steps, toward the sealed gate. Hopefully, whatever awaited her at the office wouldn’t have anything to do with the factory. She picked up the pace, hurrying out the gate and toward her parked vehicle.

CHAPTER FOUR

Adele pulled her sedan into the parking spot nearest the security checkpoint. She glanced up and noted Agent Renee’s new lease—a five-year-old Corvette—sitting askew across one of the handicapped spots. She rolled her eyes at the poor parking job and the new sports car, but