Mercy (Atlee Pine #4)(3)

Pine shook her head. “The truck has a manual transmission. I don’t know anybody, particularly someone who has been kept in a hellhole for years and never attempted to drive anything, who could have figured out how a clutch works. Certainly not under such stressful conditions. And I can’t see the Atkinses having taught her.”

“So what are you saying then?”

“I’m saying, Carol, that I think it was Desiree who took off that night in the truck. But I think she went alone.”

“Because the jig was up, you mean?”

Pine nodded. “Yes. So, to answer your initial question of what to do now, I think we head back to Georgia and see if we can pick up a very, very cold trail.”

“And Jack Lineberry? Will you stop in to see him while we’re in Georgia?”

To that, Pine said nothing.

She had mixed feelings about her biological father. And their last encounter had been disastrous. She was not expecting anything better the second time around. But ultimately the fault lay with him, not her. That’s just what happened when every word out of your mouth was a lie.





CHAPTER





3


PINE STARED OUT THE WINDOW of the rental car at Crawfordville, in densely wooded Taliaferro County, Georgia. Here, you’d never see an assailant coming before it was too late. Thick foliage was a killer’s best friend, whether they were hunting deer or people.

They had flown into Atlanta from Virginia, rented the car, and driven here. They had already checked in with Dick Roberts. He was the retired, straight-as-an-arrow county sheriff who had helped them when they were down here the first time. It had been Roberts who, years before, had answered the 911 call and found Joe Atkins’s body. The question had always been—who’d stuck the knife blade there? Roberts also had been with Pine when they had discovered Mercy’s old prison cut into a knoll some distance away from the Atkinses’ house, and when they had found and viewed the video chronicling her sister’s escape. Roberts knew that Mercy was Pine’s sister, and that this case was personal to her.

No, it’s not just personal. I’m betting my entire professional life on finally solving this thing. There is no going back for me.

A sense of panic seized her for a moment, like a swimmer who realized they were caught in a riptide with a limited and risky way back to shore. Then she glanced out the window, drew a long, calming breath, and silently chastised herself to get a grip, that she was acting like a child.

Roberts had given them the route that the Atkinses’ truck had to have taken that night to where it was later found. They were now retracing that route. It was along a rural road; all the roads here were rural and winding and devoid, for the most part, of living things, except for the critters residing in the woods. They counted only five homes along the way. Three of them were occupied; two were abandoned. They stopped and asked their questions and found out that none of the people living here now were there during the relevant time period.

After the last interview, Pine and Blum drove to the spot where the truck had been found. It was an old Esso gas station long since abandoned, with the four letters and the neon tubes backing them having been used for target practice over the intervening years; only the sign’s metal spines survived. It was a bare, eroded filament of civilization in a forest that looked determined to reclaim its own. They sat in the car next to where the gas pumps used to be. Pine took a look around, and the view was as desolate as her hopes. But then something occurred to her.

“Okay, the truck and Desiree ended up here,” said Pine. “But why here?”

Blum gazed around. “I think this is a place to meet someone. ‘Hey, so and so, come get me at the Esso station.’ It was probably the only such landmark around. Desiree didn’t know when the body would be found. She wanted to get away, but not in a vehicle that could be traced.”

“And the ‘so-and-sos’ are pretty limited. In fact, there are only two possible choices, to my mind.”

“Len and Wanda Atkins, her in-laws,” replied Blum. “But Sheriff Roberts said that he talked to them after Joe was killed and Desiree disappeared. They both said they hadn’t heard from Desiree.”

“And they were both probably lying to save their own asses. You saw the picture of Mercy with them. They knew she was being held against her will. They knew if this all came out, they were going to prison. That’s why they got the hell out of here pretty soon after Mercy escaped and Joe was killed. I’m now certain that Desiree called them that night and told them what had happened. They arranged to meet her here where she abandoned the truck. They drove her somewhere, maybe a bus or train station. And off she went to start a new life with a new identity. Then they went back to their trailer and were there when they got the word the next day about their son.” She eyed Blum. “Any of that seem unlikely to you?”

“No, it all sounds spot-on, Agent Pine.”

Then Pine’s eyes narrowed and her look became less certain. “But it does seem unlikely that they would just take Desiree’s word for it that he was dead. They might have thought they could still save him, or that she was even lying about it. But if he was dead, they would have been terrified that animals could have torn Joe’s remains apart overnight. And we know that didn’t happen.”

“So maybe they were the ones to make sure their son’s body wasn’t desecrated?”