Long Road to Mercy

Chapter 43

Pine fieldstripped both the Glock and the Beretta and took her time cleaning every molecule of both weapons.

Blum sat across from her while she did this at the kitchen table.

“Let me guess, your stress-relieving technique?” she said.

Pine didn’t look up. She ran a bristle down the muzzle of the Glock.

“Focus enhancer. Which also relieves stress,” she conceded. “You screw up on maintaining your weapon, it could cost you your life.”

Blum sipped a cup of tea and looked around the confines of the kitchen.

It was early the next morning, not long after dawn had broken, and light had started to seep in through the windows.

Both women looked tired and disheveled. Sleep evidently had not come easily to either.

Blum said, “When I was young, I could have seen myself happily cooking in a kitchen like this with six rug rats running around underfoot.”

Now Pine looked up. “But you did that, right?”

“Oh, I had the kids. But I didn’t have anything like this. We lived in a trailer that was about as big as this kitchen. Scott, my ex, couldn’t even afford a double-wide. He was too busy drinking his paycheck away. When he had a paycheck, that is.”

“How did you make it, then?”

“I was a good seamstress. My grandmother taught me. I made dresses for this shop in the town where we lived. I also baked cakes. And I cleaned houses when the kids were in school. I even drove a cab in my free hours. I did whatever I could to make things work and support my kids.”

“But you joined the FBI when you were still young.”

“I was married at nineteen, Special Agent Pine. I had all my kids by the time I was twenty-eight. For that span, I was considered permanently pregnant.” Before Pine could ask how that many children were possible in that period of time, Blum added, “With one set of twins.”

When Blum said the word “twins,” Pine returned to her weapon cleaning. But Blum was clearly not done.

“Then the time came when my kids were all in school and I answered an ad for an office position with the FBI. I’d never worked in an office before. Or with the government. But I wanted that job so badly.”

“Why?”

“It was prestigious. It was the F-B-I. But I didn’t know if I would get it. I had taken college courses. I had a two-year associate degree. I read voraciously. I kept up on the news, world affairs. I considered myself bright with a strong work ethic, but just lacking in opportunity.”

“Why didn’t you think you’d get the job?”

“I was certain there would be lots of women vying for it who were far better qualified than me. And, yes, back then it was all women. Men did the investigating, and women filed the papers and made the coffee.” She paused. “And the other problem was Scott was into some stuff. I mean right on the edge of the criminal side. I knew the Bureau would do a background check on me. I’d never done anything that was even close to the edge. But if they looked at Scott’s background, well, they could either conclude guilt by association, or just take the path of least resistance and go with one of a hundred other women who had no such issues.”

“But you got the job. And they had to have talked to your husband.”

“They did. And Scott did the honorable thing. He told them I had nothing to do with whatever he was involved in. And he gave me a great endorsement. As did everyone else they talked to, apparently. You know the usual adjectives: hardworking, honest, patriotic.”

“So, your ex came through in the end.”

“Not exactly.”

Pine put down her cleaning tools and gazed at the woman. “How so?”

“A week after I got the job he filed for divorce. Seems that on the side, he was seeing this rich floozy thirty years his senior. He fed her a load of garbage, and like a lot of women, unfortunately, she fell for him hook, line, and sinker. He was handsome, I’ll give him that. And charming. And an asshole, especially when he was hitting the bottle. Anyway, he went off with her and moved into her big house and drove her Jag. But because none of the money was his, I got nothing in alimony. And he could afford pennies for child support, which he was always late with, even when he bothered to pay it. During the divorce, Scott told me that he gave that great recommendation to the Bureau and took responsibility for his actions just so I could get the job and have the money to support the kiddies on my own, because he was out of there.”

“How’d you resist the urge to shoot him? Seriously?”

“It was a close call at times,” conceded Blum. “But I couldn’t leave the kids to be raised by him. They would have been seriously messed up.”

“But with all that, you said your kids aren’t close to you now. When you sacrificed everything for them.”

“The Bureau was a great job that didn’t pay very well, though the benefits were solid. So I had to work another job to make ends meet. Sometimes two other jobs. That meant I wasn’t home much with the kids. I missed important events. Proms, homecoming, sports, and one graduation. They resented that. I know that for a fact because they often told it to my face. And maybe they blamed me for their dad leaving, not that he ever spent much time with them.”

“That must have been tough.”

Blum finished her tea. “It wasn’t easy. But they’re my kids, so I love them. Regardless.”

“What happened to Scott?”

“He ran through the floozy’s money and found another one. Then he got too fat and bald to keep the racket going. Then his health failed. Last that I heard, he was in a state-run nursing home somewhere on the East Coast. He called me a few times from there.”

“To say what?”

“He was lonely. Wanted someone to talk to.”

“That was ballsy.”

“Oh, I talked to him. I mean, what does it matter now? He is the father of my kids. And he paid the price for his crappy life. He must have had me on a contacts list because I received a call about six months ago from the facility. They told me he has early onset dementia. Can’t remember anything from day to day.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” said Pine as she stared off.

“Why’s that? He had some happy memories.”

“I’m talking about the unhappy ones.”

Blum sat back and gazed at her. “So I spilled my life story in ten minutes. What about you?”

“You said you read up on me. What’s to tell?”

“Always better from the horse’s mouth.”

Pine shrugged and said nothing.

“That time you came into the office after a run. You had a tank top on. The tats on your delts? Gemini and Mercury. All about twins. And you looked down when I said the word.” Blum looked at Pine’s arms. “And you have the words ‘No Mercy’ on your forearms.”

“Lots of people have tats.”

“Lots of people have the usual tats. ‘Love you, Mom.’ Or a shark or a rose. Not you. Yours have meaning. Real meaning.”

“You a shrink?” Pine said quietly, as she applied oil to her trigger coil.

“No, but unlike most people, I’m a good observer. And listener.”

“I’m just fine, thanks.”

Pine started putting her weapons back together.

“Daniel James Tor?”

Pine’s hands slightly shook, and the weapon components slightly rattled.

“You want to talk about it?” asked Blum.

“No. Why would I?”

“Because we have jumped over the precipice together. Only we haven’t hit the bottom of the canyon yet, no pun intended. I think it gives me certain rights and privileges with my partner in crime. If you disagree, I’ll understand. But that’s my position, just so you know.”

Pine finished rebuilding the Beretta and reholstered both.

Blum waited patiently while she did so.

A light rain had begun to fall outside.

Pine glanced at her watch and said, “I checked, Fabrikant’s flight left on time. He’ll be landing in Munich soon.”

“Let’s hope he finds out something helpful.”

Pine nodded absently and then fell silent for a bit. “The police thought my father had done it. Taken my sister.”

“Not to be too blunt, but are you certain that he didn’t?”

“He passed a polygraph. He was a broken man from the minute he found out Mercy was gone. My parents divorced. My father killed himself.”

“Did he leave a note?”

“Not that I ever heard. My dad wasn’t what you would call the methodical planner type. He acted on impulse.”

“He might have killed himself out of guilt,” Blum said cautiously.

“Don’t think so. I mean he didn’t have guilt because he hurt Mercy. He had guilt because he was too drunk to stop it.”

“How can you be sure about that?”

“I had memory reconstruction. Via hypnosis. My father never came up, but Daniel James Tor came tumbling out of that session.”

“You remembered him abducting your sister?”

Pine said, “Only I don’t know if it’s because he actually did it, or because I knew he was in the area at the time and I wanted to believe I finally had an answer to what happened to my sister.”

“I can see your dilemma.”

“You know about Tor?”

“Of course. I was at the Bureau when they captured him in Seattle. He’d killed women and young girls in the Southwest, too. One in Flagstaff.”

“And one in Phoenix and one in Havasu City. Those three sites formed a triangle.”

Blum nodded thoughtfully. “Right. I remember now. He did mathematical patterns. That’s how they caught him. What an idiot.”

Pine shook her head. “Granted, Tor is missing some key chromosomes, but he’s no idiot.”

“So you met with him?”

“I did.”

“How did it go?”

“Badly,” replied Pine.

“Did he admit to taking your sister?”

“No. I didn’t expect him to. Certainly not at the first meeting.”

“First? So you’re going to see him again?”

“That’s my plan.”

“With what goal?” asked Blum.

“The truth. Call me naïve, but it’s the only goal I’ve ever had.”

“And if you don’t get it? Because I just don’t see a creep like Tor giving that up, ever. I could see him twisting you in knots while he plays all of this for a game. What else does he have to do up there?”

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

Before Blum could respond, Pine’s burn phone buzzed.

She looked at the message. It was from Kurt Ferris.

Roll right now. They know where you are. They’ll be there in ten.

“Let’s go,” barked Pine.

Pine and Blum grabbed their bags, which they’d never unpacked, and raced down to the parking lot.

Sixty seconds later the Mustang blew out of the underground garage and headed south. Pine turned at the next corner and then worked her way back around, to where she was three blocks away from the condo building and sheltered just inside the mouth of an alleyway.

“What are you doing?” asked Blum.

“Just making sure of something.”

A minute later, four black SUVs rolled up to the condo building and about twenty soldiers in military gear climbed out and flooded into the lobby.

In the Mustang, Blum looked at Pine. “Is that what you wanted to see?”

Pine nodded and drove away from the condo building.

“Kurt didn’t tell me in the text who was coming. I thought it might be the Bureau.”

“Well, whatever, that was definitely close. How do you think they found out we were staying there?”

“Military intel has eyes and ears everywhere. And there are cameras all over the place. Luckily, Kurt found out about it somehow and was able to warn us.”

“Big Brother lurks,” said Blum.

“Big Brother on steroids. And they’re going to be coming after us, full bore.”

“So which one do you want to be?” asked Blum abruptly.

Pine shot her a glance as she turned onto the highway and punched the gas. “What?”

“Do you want to be Thelma or Louise?”