Mercy (Atlee Pine #4)(43)

Pine walked around to the back of the building and sized it up. One door, two windows. Large, mature trees ringed the small, park-like area that ran behind all the shops here. An old picnic table sat under the tree canopies.

She tried the back door but it was locked, as were the windows. Until Pine worked her knife through the gap on one of them and pushed the simple lock back. She slowly lifted the window, ready to run if an alarm sounded, but fortunately none did.

She slipped through the opening and closed the window, after lowering herself softly to the floor. Her nostrils were instantly breached by mingled pungent scents. She slipped a small flashlight from her pocket and manipulated the lens opening so that only a small, core beam was produced. She shone it over the walls. They were covered with shelves, which, in turn, were loaded with all sorts of things, many of them grotesque, at least to Pine. A bottle of fake shrunken heads was a real eye-grabber.

At least I hope they’re fake.

Boxes of tarot cards were stacked haphazardly on a table. And they were on sale! A full-sized skeleton coated with dust hung from a holder in one corner. One could take it home for the sale price of $599. Astrological charts in various sizes and colors hung in lopsided, chaotic patterns on the walls, along with prints of creatures that Pine did not recognize. There were books with titles like Witchcraft at Home and Self-Healing Tonics. Pine looked through the latter one and doubted that the FDA would have approved. The place was disheveled and unorganized and there was junk piled around, including unopened cardboard boxes with the shipping labels still on them.

She moved into the next room. It was small and looked to be the office. This space was also littered with papers and boxes; a laminated desk was wedged into one free corner with a computer on it. The computer required a password, so Pine ignored it and went through the desk drawers. She found some stationery with the store’s name and address. And under a stack of junk she also found a checkbook with the name Dolores Venuti printed on it, along with another address in Asheville.

Pine certainly believed that Desiree and Dolores were one and the same, although she would have liked absolute confirmation of that. She found it when she looked at some photos taped to the wall. One was of a person who could only be Desiree. She fit the description Pine had been given and, more important, the DMV photo. She was standing in front of the occult shop and was smiling. Written in Sharpie at the bottom of the picture was the inscription, “Welcome to the neighborhood, Dolores.” It was signed by various people, and the shops named under those signatures were probably part of the local retail community.

She took a picture of it with her phone.

Pine copied the address from the check onto a piece of paper and left the way she had come.

She climbed back into the SUV and handed Blum the paper with the address.

“Plug this into the GPS.”

“What is it?”

“Hopefully, it’s where we’ll find Desiree Atkins, aka Dolores Venuti.”

“What was the shop like?”

“Creepy, just like I’m sure she is.”

“If she’s home, what are you going to do?”

“Stop myself from strangling her, and then start asking my questions.”

“And if she won’t answer?”

“Then maybe I won’t stop myself from strangling her.”

“You can’t mean that.”

Pine put the SUV in gear. “Don’t bet the farm on that, Carol.”





CHAPTER





29


OKAY, I DON’T LIKE THE LOOKS OF THIS,” said Blum as they pulled down a long gravel road with thick woods on either side. A patch of fog was rolling in, and the only light was from the SUV’s headlights.

“This is right out of the opening scene of every slasher movie I’ve ever watched.”

“Don’t let your emotions run away with you, Carol,” said Pine.

Blum glanced at her boss. “Aren’t you a little nervous?”

“I think Desiree should be more worried about me than I should be about her.”

“You believe she’ll be there?”

“We’re going to find out pretty soon.”

They rounded a bend. In the distance they could see the lights coming from a small split-level rancher built of brick and siding. It had a forlorn look, as though it were lonely without any other homes around. There was a metal carport next to the house with no car under it. The light they saw was coming from the front room.

“Great,” said Blum. “The little house in the dark woods. I wonder if Hansel and Gretel are inside about to be eaten.”

Pine pulled the SUV to a stop and killed the lights.

“Wait here.”

“I don’t want you going up there by yourself.”

“I’m armed and I’m a federal agent who is more than a little homicidal right now. Put simply, Desiree is a munchkin and I’m an Amazon. But slide over into the driver’s seat. Keep the doors locked and your phone in hand.”

Pine climbed out and made her way toward the house, keeping off the road and sidling along the tree line with careful strides. She then veered toward the front of the home and peered into one of the lighted windows. She saw furniture, pictures on the wall, a burgundy-and-blue rug on the floor, and not a person in sight. She edged around the corner and entered the backyard. She spied a small toolshed with gray siding and a shingled roof. She made her way over there and shone her light in one of the windows. It looked empty except for some tools, a wheelbarrow, and a stepladder. She tried the door, but it was locked.