Mercy (Atlee Pine #4)(114)

“Well, it might not cut both ways,” said Mercy.

When the woman looked startled, Pine put a hand on her sister’s shoulder and said to the maid, “I know the way, thanks.”

Pine knocked on the door and Lineberry’s voice told them to come in.

When they entered Lineberry rose from behind his desk. He looked like a totally different person, Pine observed. He was dressed in beige linen slacks, a white collared shirt, and a navy sport jacket with a pocket square. His color was healthy, his white hair was neatly trimmed, and though he was still too thin, he looked nearly recovered from his injury.

And his depression, thought Pine.

He smiled, his eyes riveted on Mercy. He came toward them with his arms outstretched.

“My God, Mercy, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you.”

When he moved to embrace her, Mercy stepped back and stuck out her hand for him to shake.

He looked surprised at first, but then glanced at Pine and a look of understanding broke over his features. He shook her hand. “I’m obviously getting way ahead of myself. You don’t even know me. I’m so sorry. Please, sit down.”

He joined them around a coffee table and looked each of them over before settling his gaze on Pine. “I understand that you have been informed the FBI has closed the matter involving Tim.”

“Am I wrong to sense your hand in all that?” asked Pine.

“I had a personal stake in it, too. They were investigating me as well, you know. But I will admit to placing a few phone calls to old comrades, as well as to people on Capitol Hill to whom I have donated liberally over the years. It was beyond clear that Ito Vincenzo came there to kill Tim and Tim merely defended himself. Now, I understand from Agent McAllister that you all had some adventure out in the western U.S., but he didn’t elaborate.”

“It’s classified,” said Pine. “But we all survived to make it here.”

Lineberry’s jaw slackened at this comment, but he snapped it shut and looked at Mercy. “I’m assuming that your sister has filled you in on things?”

Mercy looked him over, glanced around the finely appointed room, the purchased domain of the very rich, and then glanced back at him, unimpressed. “That you slept with our mom and had us? Yeah, got that. So I hear you want to leave us all your stuff. Can I take some of mine now? I got bills to pay and have to get back on my feet. It’ll probably be less than what you spend on haircuts.”

Blum stiffened, but Pine didn’t. She had wondered what her sister’s reaction to this meeting would be. And what had happened did not surprise her.

To his credit, Lineberry didn’t react to this, either. No patronizing smile, no look of anger or disappointment, nothing to show that he felt disrespected in any way by her blunt comments.

But he did glance at Pine and said firmly, “Atlee, would you and Carol mind giving Mercy and me a few minutes alone?”

“You okay with that, Mercy?” said Pine.

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

Pine and Blum rose to leave. Pine anxiously glanced back before closing the door and saw father and daughter staring at each other across a span of about six feet. It might as well have been six million. She closed the door after her.





CHAPTER





80


SO CAN I GET THE MONEY NOW, or do I have to wait for you to die?” said Mercy.

Lineberry said, “Oh, I’m sure something can be arranged. As you can clearly see, I have a great deal of wealth. You certainly should have your share of it.”

“That’s not what I meant. I had to quit all my jobs to go back into my past and get stuff figured out. And I got tossed out of my place, so I’m homeless right now. All I need is a little stash to get back on my feet, find some work, and I’m good to go. And you can leave all the rest to Lee. I don’t need it.”

“So that’s it? It’s just the money. No other questions for me? About your mother?”

Mercy shrugged. “I know all I need to. When I got taken my mother never looked for me. She left me to rot in a hellhole. Then she abandoned Lee and was never seen again. Oh, and then she wrote some bullshit letter to you to make herself feel better. And in that letter she never once mentioned trying to find me, so screw her. Did I miss anything?”

“You missed a great deal. Like the truth.”

Mercy stared at him contemptuously. “Oh, is this where you tell me she was, what, like that Joan of Arc chick?”

“No, she had her faults, many of them, as we all do. She made mistakes—again, like we all do, including me and, I’m sure, including you.”

“Don’t include me in this, okay?” Mercy said sharply, glowering at him.

“But you are part of it.” He paused and looked thoughtfully at her. “Your mother blamed herself for what happened to you and your sister. She went berserk with guilt. She pulled out all the stops to try to find you.”

“I know that’s bullshit. If she had, she would have found me.”

As though he hadn’t heard her, Lineberry continued, “And then she was forced to stop looking for you, at least officially. After that, she was compelled to go underground with her remaining family.”

This got Mercy’s attention. “Forced to stop?”

Lineberry gave her an appraising look. “I’ve never even told your sister what I’m about to tell you.” He paused again, as though to make certain he had her full attention. “Are you prepared to hear it? If not, you can get up and leave. I won’t try to stop you.” He reached into his pocket and took out a checkbook. “I can write you a check now so you can get back on your feet. Will two hundred thousand dollars do it? If not, just name the amount. A million? Two million? Ten? I don’t really care.”