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

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2021-05-18T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Back in France—so lovely. Elke Schmidt breathed a soft sigh of satisfaction as he pedaled along on his borrowed bicycle. His habit was folded neat and tidy, stowed in the backpack slung over his shoulder.

Elke rolled his shoulders as he pedaled up the hill, wincing a bit against the still open wounds along his shoulders. The pain lanced sharp and sweet and he found his lips folding back, revealing teeth.

The man who now called himself Elke turned along a side street, glimpsing Bordeaux in the distance, his eyes tracing the outline of the city against the horizon, a welcoming embrace of stone and glass, witnessing the arrival of a tool of retribution.

He wheeled the bike into a side alley along cracked asphalt lined with dumpsters and the lingering odor of refuse and mildew. His nose twitched as he wheeled to a halt and stowed the bike behind one of the large green and blue trash cans.

He tested his movement gingerly, feeling the way his rough, burlap shirt rubbed against the open wounds. A car ride might have been more comfortable, more accommodating.

But Elke Schmidt didn’t prefer vehicles. He practiced pain as a virtue.

A virtue she would share soon enough.

Breathing slowly in and out, Elke moved away from the stowed bicycle along the alley toward the mouth of the side path. He ignored the scent of the dumpsters, the trash and rot behind him, preferring to stare ahead, along the open road in the flank of France, his eyes inching up the large apartment building across the street.

His eyes flashed as he stared at the structure, glaring in the direction of the top floor apartment.

No movement discernible.

This particular judgment would be a difficult one. Harder to track the transgressor’s movements—harder to detect her habits so high up.

His face twisted into a snarl and he pounded a fist hard into the stone wall next to him. He yelped in pain, feeling a knuckle crack from the force. He lifted his hand, his fingers trembling, staring at the back of his knuckles. A thick flap of skin had torn off on the cement. A moment later, blood suddenly pooled, pouring down his hand toward his wrist. Delicately, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around his knuckles where he stood in the alley.

The streets outside were mostly empty, save the occasional car skirting past. They were far enough outside the main hub of the busy city that they were allowed a modicum of privacy and respite.

Still, there was no rest for the wicked.

And the transgressor would face judgment soon enough.

Elke Schmidt folded his good hand over his injured knuckles, squeezing down, wincing and feeling tears of pain form in his eyes.

Three judgments already.

All of them successful.

He didn’t need reconnaissance for this one. Perhaps her habits were unknown to him. Perhaps he couldn’t perfectly track her schedule.

It didn’t matter.

The Good Judge was on his side. Hadn’t it been proven already? Wasn’t it obvious?

He nodded, dipping his head once and then stalking across the street, sticking to the shadows, his head lowered.

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