Mercy

Chapter 58

McAllister was still sitting at the same table in the hotel café. He was on the phone when Pine walked in. The man held up a finger for her to wait, then he finished the call and looked up at her.

“What do you got, Pine?”

“Carol Blum is missing. We need to put out an APB.”

“Neil checked video from the parking lot. Blum was earlier seen getting into her vehicle with a tall woman in a hoodie. Any idea who that could be?”

Pine knew this question might be coming and still didn’t have a good answer.

“I’m not sure.”

“Okay,” said McAllister, not looking convinced. “I’ll put out the APB, and then you and I need to talk.”

Pine gave him a description of the Porsche and the plate number.

He left her for a few minutes and then was back with Neil Bertrand in tow. They sat down across from her.

“Coffee?” asked McAllister. “We have an open tab running.”

“Sure, that would be great.”

“You must be hungry, too. I doubt your kidnappers fed you.”

“No, I’m good, but thanks.”

“Coffee black or the works?”

“Black.”

Bertrand went off to fetch it.

McAllister took a sip from his cup and set it down. “You told me to trust you. Okay, I do. But that street runs both ways.” He let that sentence hang out there, and from the looks of the man, Pine knew he wasn’t going to say anything else until she responded. She would have done that too if their positions had been reversed.

Pine waited for her coffee, and when it came she took a long sip of it and plunged in.

“I’ve been on leave from the Bureau to look for my twin sister, Mercy Pine. She was abducted when we were six years old. We traced her to Desiree and Joe Atkins’ home. She had been given the name Rebecca Atkins.”

McAllister’s eyes widened and he started to nod. “Rebecca Atkins? Right, I remember seeing the FBI’s PSA. Damn, she was your sister?”

“Yes. Anyway, the Atkinses kept her prisoner, but she escaped nearly twenty years ago. We tracked Desiree down in Asheville, and I busted her for imprisoning another young girl. And I also got her to confess to killing her husband, Joe.”

“Confess?”

Pine took out her phone and played the recording.

“Is it admissible?” asked McAllister.

“I hope so,” said Pine. “Because it clears my sister of any wrong-doing, although in my book she had every reason to harm them — they were trying to keep her imprisoned.”

“Well, I think most courts and juries would agree with that. And do you know where your sister is?”

Pine drew a long breath. “The truth is she’s upstairs in my room. She was the tall woman you saw in the hoodie getting into the car with Carol. She’s the one I’ve been looking for.”

She glanced up to see McAllister’s and Bertrand’s reactions to this.

Bertrand looked surprised, McAllister did not.

“Two tall women, same build, and both seen with Blum. It doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes. Your sister goes by Eloise Cain now?”

“Yes. She came here to confront Desiree, which she’s done. But a lawyer from New York came down to rep Desiree — only someone else employed him. I think that person is the one who snatched me. Carol and my sister followed the lawyer to a house, where my sister saw the man talking to the lawyer. But then they took off. Maybe they suspected they were being followed, I don’t know. My sister had gotten into the house for a closer look and to see if I was in there. When the people abruptly left, she ran back to where the car had been, but Carol and the car were gone.”

“And you don’t think Carol followed them?”

“She would have left a message. She didn’t. And all my messages I sent to her a short while ago have gone unanswered. So I think they got to her.”

McAllister sat back and glanced at Bertrand, then said to Pine, “And this man — the ringleader, let’s call him — he said he was after El Cain, your sister, because she had killed his brother? What does she say to that?”

“She has no idea what he’s talking about. She’s killed no one.”

“And you believe her?”

“Yes.”

“And you found her when?”

Pine took another long breath. “About twenty minutes ago.”

“After not seeing her for thirty years? And you think you know her well enough to figure out if she’s telling the truth or not about killing someone? And would she really confess that crime to an FBI agent, sister or not?”

Pine’s professional side knew what answer to give: Of course she didn’t know her sister well enough. But her human side provided the answer. “I believe she’s telling the truth. And the man said his brother deserved it, so it sounds to me like whether she did something or not, he might have provoked her.”

“Did you ask her about anything recent in her past that might have prompted such action against her? I mean, whoever wants a piece of her has kidnapped an FBI agent, gotten a hotshot lawyer from New York, and abducted another FBI employee. There must be a significant motive behind it.”

“I haven’t gone that deep with her yet.”

“While technically this is not my case, I think someone should.”

“I’ll do it.”

Bertrand interjected, “Do you really think you’re objective enough to do that, Agent Pine? Under Bureau rules—”

“I know everything about Bureau rules,” she snapped, and then immediately calmed. She took another drink of coffee to give herself time to formulate a more effective response. She looked into the liquid as though it might hold a way out of her current dilemma.

“I’ll talk to her about it, objectively. Then, if it appears that there might be more to it, I can arrange for you to speak with her. Does that sound fair?”

“Fair enough, for now. And about Tim Pine?”

“I haven’t seen him or my mother for many years. I thought he was dead. I have no idea where either one of them is.”

“How did Ito Vincenzo end up in his grave?” asked Bertrand.

“Have you spoken with Jack Lineberry?”

“He’s next on our list. We understand the Georgia police and a Virginia homicide detective have already interviewed him. I don’t think they were satisfied with his answers.”

“Why is the FBI even interested in this? Homicide is a state matter, unless there’s something unusual about it.”

“Apparently there is.”

“Look, the truth is, my mother acted as a mole for the U.S. government in taking down some New York Mafia bosses back in the eighties. Bruno Vincenzo was one of them. He got killed in prison for turning snitch but not before talking his brother, Ito, into abducting my sister and almost killing me in an act of revenge. Many years later, Ito tracked my father down in Virginia and again he tried to kill him. Only Ito was the one who ended up dying.”

“And why didn’t your father report this?”

“He should have, but the Mafia has long memories. This would have dredged everything back up again. So he and Lineberry worked out a plan. Lineberry initially identified the body as Tim’s and my mother confirmed it. I guess the face was unrecognizable.”

“I saw the autopsy pictures. It was,” added McAllister, with a repulsed look on his face. “So your mother and this Lineberry fellow lied to the police and obstructed an investigation.”

“Lineberry worked for the government. He was my mother’s handler. I suppose he’s bound by some secrecy oath. You may have to duke it out with a sister agency.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“My only focus right now is finding Carol.”

“I can understand that, Agent Pine. Why don’t you go and speak with your sister? She may know something useful.”

Pine rose. “Thanks for the coffee.” She walked off.

McAllister moodily watched her go. “She’s a funny one.”

“Great record at the Bureau,” noted Bertrand.

“Yes, but she’s ruffled feathers along the way, too.”

“Think she’s holding anything back?”

McAllister gave the younger man an incredulous look. “Hell, Neil, of course she is.”