Thoughts of her mother only troubled her, though, and she closed her eyes for a moment, hoping the chill across her spine would pass.
She looked up and realized the waiter and Leoni were both looking at her.
The tall man in the black and white uniform was smiling quizzically, holding a notepad, and waiting expectantly.
She blinked. “Sorry.”
Leoni tapped the menu on the table. “The special is good,” he said. “But if you need more time, no worries.”
Adele quickly shook her head. “The special is fine,” she said, in German.
The waiter beamed at the language and replied in the same, “I’ll be right out. Have a good evening.”
The two waters now rested on their table.
“So how long have you been an agent?” Leoni asked.
She hesitated. “About twelve years as well. Well, there was a bit of a gap in between, moving from agencies.”
“Which agencies?”
“I started with DGSI, then moved to the FBI, and now I’m a liaison with Interpol.”
Leoni whistled. “What made you transition?”
Without missing a beat, she said, “Scenery. Have you lived in Italy your whole life?” She glanced across the rest of the patio seating and spotted an older woman and a younger girl sitting at a table, laughing. Ice clinked in their glasses as they sipped from lemonades. Adele felt a soft shiver. The woman looked to be only middle-aged. Perhaps the same age Elise would’ve been if she hadn’t died.
Images flashed across her mind, now, piercing her vision, even though her eyes were still open. She gritted her teeth and blinked, trying to shake the thoughts free.
“Are you all right?” Leoni asked.
She forced a smile. “Fine. Just a headache. I sometimes get migraines.”
He studied her for a moment. Again, she was struck by the emotional intelligence of a man who could so seamlessly transition from conversation to ordering food to back again without slipping so much as a smile. He seemed to have a read on her, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. He didn’t comment though, and looked away, glancing at the menu. “They have desserts too,” he said. “My treat.”
Adele stared at the menu for a moment, her fingers tapping against the table. For some reason, Leoni’s kindness was only making her think of John. He wasn’t as polite as Agent Leoni, nor was he as considerate. And yet she still couldn’t help but think of him. The tall, scarred agent had been considerate enough to respect her desire for him to leave…
It had felt like the right call at the moment. Some battles were better fought alone… weren’t they? Then why did it feel like she was regretting her decision? What could she even do about it? No… she was being silly. She felt like a schoolgirl, playing games. Agent Renee was just doing what she had asked. And yet, for some reason she felt a flash of regret.
She could tell Leoni was still speaking, but she was too distracted to pay attention. She nodded politely, and made the appropriate noises in between sentences to make sure he thought she was listening. Really though, she was debating with herself whether or not she should call John. For a moment, her hand slipped to her pocket. She thought perhaps she could excuse herself, take a walk around the block. Surely Leoni would understand. It wasn’t like this was anything except a polite meal between professionals.
But even if she called John, what would she say? Besides, he might bring up the case, and that would only distract her. She knew her place was back in France, catching this killer. But there was another killer on the loose, one that wasn’t tied to her mother’s death. One she could focus on. One thing at a time.
Her hand slipped away from her phone and folded over her other palm, resting against the plastic placemat.
Once the waiter brought the food, Adele could practically feel her stomach churning. Sleepy, hungry, cranky—not a prodigious start to investigative work. She could only hope the hotel she’d been booked in was more comfortable than the last one she had stayed in with Agent Renee.
But all of that paled in comparison to the case at hand. History in Paris, future in Italy, or wherever the killer decided to strike next. Adele thought to the riddle again, reciting the words in her mind. She couldn’t be outsmarted on this one. Not now. Not with so much riding on it. And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was rapidly running out of time.
CHAPTER TEN
Darkness fell, but not with a heavy tumble, more like the slow, wafting fall of a feather. Moonlight touched softly against the many pillars and columns. The beige and gray and white stone stretched before the security guard’s vision. He flashed his light toward the columns, the flashlight scraping across the marble steps leading up to the Parthenon. The Acropolis, a tourist destination in Athens, and for most a source of awe and wonder at the ancient architecture standing to this day in the heart of the raised ruined city. But to the security officer, it was just another boring job. Paid well enough. No real complaints. Was nice to be able to move around the old stone, getting the blood moving while also making rent. He didn’t particularly like people either, and the night shift suited him perfectly.
Case in point, the sounds coming from behind the steps of the Parthenon.
The security guard frowned, moving the flashlight beam and reflecting it off the marble pillars stretching up toward the sky. The archways and the shadows of the protruding stone gave ample hiding spots in darkness, concealed from the moon and the stars. The elevated city ruins overlooked tree cover, lower than the hill’s peak. The old stone and scattered rock circled the once-walled top, now wreathed in footprints from tourists and the like.
A cloudless night, and yet, somehow, it seemed darker than usual. A more substantive darkness, as if shadows themselves were concealing things within.
The security guard could hear more voices, giggling. He glared toward the corner of the shadows behind the marble steps.
Other guards would patrol the area, and especially keep an eye on the parking lots and roads leading to the destination. But sometimes people would creep in without being noticed. Others would bike off trail.
It had been done before. A passing favorite of some of the locals was to try to be the first to reach the Parthenon and stick gum to the middle-most pillars.
The security guard was no defender of old buildings. He didn’t really care. But he had a job to do.
“Hello?” he called, flashing his light toward the stairs. “I can hear you,” he said. “Come out here before I call the police.”
He heard more giggling, then a voice whisper sharply, “Now, now, he’s getting too close!”
A small, scrawny form burst from behind the alcove beneath the stairs, racing up the steps to the Parthenon.
The security officer flashed his light onto the back of the teenager. A small kid with spiky hair and a single studded earring in his left ear.
The security guard spotted three other teenagers leaning up, peering from behind the steps. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s far enough,” he called out, sharply.
He turned the light up, causing it to shine even brighter. Somehow, this increased level of illumination gave the teenager pause. Spiky hair shifted, and the studded earring glinted as the young boy turned, sheepishly, halfway up the Parthenon steps.