Left To Die

“Hear that?” said a second voice. “I told you not to bother them. Pervert.”

The first voice, though, didn’t seem convinced. “He’s not moving. Look at him.”

“It’s fine,” said the magician, still stiff, frozen, staring ahead. “Go away. It’s been a long day for him. This isn’t something your parents would want you to see. It’s a private thing. You’re being rude.”

A couple of voices were snickering now, giggling to each other at the tourist’s words.

Enes felt terror coming back. Hope fading. Would the teenagers leave? The magician was convincing, and had even leaned down to tenderly caress the young man’s chest. The giggling voices seemed convinced.

The sound of dirt scraping beneath shoes reached Enes’s ears. “Sorry, sir!” called one of the teens. “We’re going.”

But the first voice retorted, “I don’t believe you! You have a knife in your hand. Look—it’s a knife! We’re calling the police!”

At this, the magician gave up all pretenses. He cursed and shoved roughly off the young man, pressing hard against his chest for leverage, and then he bolted in the opposite direction of the voices, fleeing into the trees.

“Sir, help is coming. Are you hurt?”

Two faces, then a third crowded above him. Enes spotted phones pressed against each of the teenagers’ cheeks, but though he tried to react, tried to speak, he found he still couldn’t move a muscle. Still, tears of sheer gratitude traced the inside of his face and tickled the underside of his chin.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The gated mansion loomed over Adele, its shadows sweeping the well-maintained streets of the cul-de-sac. Her breath plumed into the night, twisting toward the sky in foggy ribbons. Adele paused for a moment, checking her watch. Exactly one hundred. The small symbol of a heart on the smartwatch pulsed next to the steady number.

The skies were still of dark countenance, and sheets of still quiet draped the streets—especially in the upper end of the Parisian suburbs.

Adele pushed a few strands of hair back behind her headband, clearing her vision. Normally, she never broke routine. But sleep had played coy with her, and Adele had needed to clear her head. Running along the empty sidewalks at night had been refreshing. She needed those lab results; but it would take time…

Time she didn’t have to waste.

A light switched on in the white-bricked mansion, beaming out through a multifaceted atrium window and swaddling vanity pillars stretching the yard.

Another flood of memories bubbled up. She smiled through the gate, toward the light, sourced by the only other person she knew in France who kept horrible hours. When she’d been younger, many of her nighttime runs had ended up outside this place.

Adele winced against the glare of the light, and then flinched as the gate suddenly opened, splitting in the middle and swinging inward with the quiet, churning sound of an electric motor. Adele glanced up the long driveway toward the house.

Again, she was filled with memories of her time in France when she’d first joined the DGSI. Smiling to herself and attempting to push aside thoughts of the case, of the tox report, of the ticking time, she broke into a jog up the trail and toward the mansion.

The door swung open as she ascended the patio steps.

Robert stood in the doorway, wearing fuzzy pink slippers and a luxurious silk robe.

“Were you up?” she asked, breathing heavily between her words.

Robert lifted his right hand, his thumb pressed between the pages of a book. “Just doing some reading. Come in.”

Adele hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. She had lived at Robert’s mansion for a year last time she’d been in France. She didn’t know why a man who’d inherited so much worked for a government agency, especially as it wasn’t the kindest of jobs, nor did it facilitate interactions with the most pleasant of people. If Robert had wanted to, he didn’t have to work a day in his life.

Then again, perhaps that’s what he feared.

She shut the door behind her as she entered the pristine marble and tile atrium. In her estimation there were far too many statues and paintings adorning the area, not to mention the overly resplendent chandelier dangling from the ceiling. But taste was a matter of preference, and Robert’s tastes were more high-minded than most.

The small man stepped quietly across the tile floors in his fuzzy slippers, leading her through a side door and into a study, entirely unperturbed by her unannounced visit. In the study, a slow fire crackled behind a grate, and a couple of red chairs faced the flames. Robert plopped down in the seat on the left.

In one corner of the room, a dusty billiards table lodged between a bookcase and a wall. The pool cues were also covered in dust and stood unused in a rack by the table.

The house was large, and though there were two chairs, Robert lived alone. He’d never been married, and had never had kids of his own. He’d been brought up in a generation where his preferences in a romantic partner had not been smiled upon.

Adele’s breathing quieted and her heart rate calmed as she approached the fireplace, feeling the warm pulse of the flames as they crackled in the hearth. Robert propped his feet onto a footstool and leaned back, melting into his red chair with a look of contentment on his features.

“Sit, please,” he said, waving a small hand toward the empty chair. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Adele collapsed in the chair, as she’d done so many times before. She couldn’t count the number of nights she’d fallen asleep like this with Robert reading a book next to her. For some reason, this memory filled her with a flood of guilt.

She ran her hands along the arm rests, twisting at a couple of metal buttons. She knew she should have done better keeping in touch with Robert. He’d seen her as a daughter, and she’d just up and left.

But Robert hated goodbyes, so Adele had never offered him one.

She squirmed in her seat and stared at the flames. Perhaps, predictably, Robert had a glass of red wine set on the coffee table next to him. He lifted his book, propping it with one hand, his eyes scanning the pages while his other cupped the wine glass; cradling it with three fingers, he lifted it toward his lips. “Your old room is still available,” he said, softly. He glanced at her. “I know you won’t be here long, but you’re welcome to it. I haven’t moved anything, and the cleaners have kept it tidy.”

Adele paused and swallowed. She shrugged with one shoulder. Staying in a hotel was easier, but sleeping in one, especially for the first few nights, always interrupted her routine.

“There’s Chocapic in the kitchen,” said Robert, after a moment. He glanced over the top of his book, inclining one wispy eyebrow beneath his thick hair.

Inadvertently, Adele could feel her stomach grumble. She had packed her bowl and spoon, but she hadn’t had time to go to the grocery store.

She knew that chocolate cereal filled with sugar wasn’t the most nutritious breakfast for a law enforcement agent. But some habits were hard to shake.

“That’s not fair,” she said, “you’re tempting me.”

Robert pursed his lips and lowered his wineglass. His eyes twinkled, but he kept his expression serious. “I’m just offering a guest some cereal.”

“Aren’t you the one who gave me grief all those years for eating that, what was your word—junk?”

Robert chuckled and got to his feet, closing his book with a snapping sound. His slippers still made no noise as he padded across the room to another adjacent door. Adele followed, and they reached the large, polished kitchen with cherry wood cabinets and ebony-black countertops.

Adele went over to the cupboard where she knew Robert had kept the cereal once upon a time. She opened it, and immediately spotted three boxes of the chocolate cereal. She glanced back at her once mentor. “These look new,” she said.

Robert shrugged. “I often keep some there. Throw them out if they expire, and then replace them, just in case.” His voice trailed off at this, and he offered no further explanation.

She felt another surge of guilt.

Next to the cereal, a small stack of plastic bowls displayed Mickey Mouse cartoons. Identical to the bowl her mother had given her when she’d been a child, and the bowl she now carried in her suitcase.

She stared. “Where did you find those?”

Robert chuckled. “If I’m honest with you, I just asked someone to find them. Apparently this internet thing is all the rage. Can’t say I’m very familiar with it myself.”

Adele shook her head. “You didn’t have to.”