Mercy (Atlee Pine #4)(54)

“Yeah, I saw that on the TV. What exactly did they ask about?”

“About you, how you got to where you did. What happened on the night you got away. But they also told me some things.”

“Like what?” asked Cain.

“That your real name was Mercy. And that a man kidnapped you from your house.”

“Mercy? I . . . I was kidnapped?” said Cain.

“Yes. A man named Ito Vincenzo. He and Len were in Vietnam together. He told us that your parents wanted you dead and that he, well, that he rescued you. But according to the FBI gal, he was lying. He took you from your parents for his own reasons. It had something to do with a grudge he had against your mother. The mob was involved or something or other. It was truly bizarre.” Wanda paused and said, “And he left the other child. He apparently did a little nursery rhyme to pick which one of you to take. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. How sick is that?”





CHAPTER





35


CAIN FELT HER HEART START TO POUND and an intense pain shot through her head along with a cascade of repressed but still ill-formed memories. It was like her brain was moving so fast, it was burning itself out, all safety valves blown right through. She glanced at Len.

Am I having a stroke?

She now remembered going berserk when she had read that nursery rhyme in a book while she’d been with Desiree. She had come upon those words and it was like something exploded in her head. She had never known why. But the other child? Then she felt stupid. The rhyme was a choosing rhyme. Of course there had to be someone else. And then something else clicked in her mind. The rare memory she had always carried with her that allowed her to survive Desiree.

It’s okay, Momma, it’s just Lee being Lee. She’ll find her way down. She always does. Don’t be mad at her, Momma.

“Eloise, are you okay?”

Cain came out of her musings with a jolt and stared at the old woman, but her heart was racing like she’d just snorted a dozen lines of coke. “Something just occurred to me, that’s all. So my real name is Mercy?”

“Yes. Do you remember that at all?”

Cain shook her head. “Desiree did a really good job of making me forget things.” She looked darkly at Wanda. “But then you knew that, too, didn’t you?”

Wanda quickly looked away. “I guess you hate me. And you have every right.”

“I don’t think you’re important enough anymore for me to hate, Wanda.”

Wanda glanced up. “What have you been doing all these years?”

“Surviving.” She glanced at Len. “Will he always be like that?”

“Yes. And it’s just me to take care of him, really.”

“Well, I guess you both are living in your own little prison now, aren’t you? Tell me, how does it feel?”

“I’m very, very sorry, Eloise.”

“Yeah, you already said that. But then words don’t cost anybody anything, do they? What else did this FBI lady say? Why do they want to find me if I didn’t kill Joe?”

“I think they want to help you. You were kidnapped, after all. And I looked that up after they left. The FBI deals with kidnappings.”

“All these years later?”

“It’s a cold case, that’s what they call it on TV. Maybe you should go and see them.”

Cain eyed her closely, her suspicions running high. She wasn’t ready to believe any of this, particularly coming from this woman. “Are you sure they don’t want to arrest me for Joe’s murder?”

“Well, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so? That’s not good enough.”

“I don’t know any more than that.”

Which means I’m still screwed.

The weight of the world seemed to reappear on Cain’s broad shoulders.

“What about Desiree?”

“What about her?”

“Give me the phone number. I want to call her.”

“But why?”

“I don’t think you have any right to ask that. Just give me the damn number.” Cain rose and looked down at the woman.

Wanda stared back up, obviously frightened.

“It’s good to be scared, Wanda, when you’re around me. I’m not normal. No one would be normal after what happened to me. Give me the number. Now! Or I won’t be responsible for what I do to you or the prick in the wheelchair.”

“Are you going to try to find Desiree? And hurt her?”

“That’s my business. You don’t have a say in that, not now. Not ever.”

Wanda rose, slipped an address book out of a drawer on a side table, and tore out a page. “Here, just take it. I never want to talk to that woman again.”

Cain took the paper. “Does Desiree know about the FBI visiting you?”

Wanda nodded. “I called her.”

“Why, to warn her?”

“Something like that.”

“Blood really is thicker than water.”

“Desiree is not a blood relative of mine,” said Wanda petulantly.

“Really? Well, pardon me for being confused on that shit.”

“Can you . . . can you forgive us?” asked Wanda.