Mercy (Atlee Pine #4)(60)

He glanced over at Spector, frowning. “I’ve taken personal risks my whole life, Britt, just as you have. You do so when the stakes are worth it.”

“Well, you like a challenge, too. Maybe you’ve been stagnating.”

Buckley nodded, looking thoughtful. “There’s no maybe about it. I have been. The earlier years were the best, when I was building something. Even when I had nothing there was a dream in place. I guess there was nowhere to go but up, and it all depended on me. Now I go to board meetings or sit in on video conferences. I listen to stupid, boring people say stupid, boring things, and I wonder why I’m even bothering. They make their money and I make my money. But one can only make so much money.”

“Spoken like someone who has far more than he’ll ever need.”

“Then I’ll triple your fee, but don’t ever think money will replace the thrill of living, Britt.”

“I never said it would, Peter. That’s why I do what I do.”





CHAPTER





40


WE MIGHT BE TOO LATE,” said Spector as they walked up the sidewalk to the Atkinses’ front door that afternoon.

Spector had checked into her room at the hotel and had her champagne and salad in Buckley’s suite. Then Buckley had made numerous phone calls and sent texts and emails. Spector had gone to the gym to engage in her intense daily workout, which had left her sweaty and breathless. She had showered and changed, and they had then driven over here.

Spector examined the knocked-over lamppost. “That looks very recent.”

They hurried up to the front porch, and Buckley rapped on the door.

Wanda Atkins opened it and stared up at them, bleary-eyed.

“I hope you’re not selling something, because I’m not buying.”

“It looks like you need to buy a new lamppost anyway,” said Spector, pointing to the demolished one.

Atkins stared at it and her eyes bulged. “Well, damn.”

“How did it happen?” asked Buckley.

“Excuse me, but who are you folks?” asked Wanda suspiciously. Buckley said, “We’re trying to find a woman named El Cain, but you might know her as Rebecca Atkins.”

“How do you know anything about all that?” demanded a stunned Atkins.

“May we come in?” asked Buckley.

“No, no, I don’t want any visitors now.”

Buckley took out his wallet and pulled out a fistful of cash. “It will be worth your while, Mrs. Atkins. We just have some questions. You are Wanda Atkins, correct?”

“Yes, yes I am, and I don’t care who knows it. I got nothing to hide. But what do you want with Becky?”

“This would be much better discussed privately,” said Buckley smoothly.

“Well, all right,” said Atkins, staring at the bills clutched in his hand.

She led them into the living room. Len was sleeping in his wheelchair.

“Mr. Atkins?” said Buckley.

“Yes, he’s had a stroke. I don’t want to wake him. He can’t talk anyway—he just grunts,” she said bluntly.

“All right,” said Buckley, with a glance at Spector, who was drilling Atkins with a hard look.

They all sat down, and Buckley said, “Have you seen Cain lately? Might she have been the one to knock down your lamppost?”

Spector added, “That would have taken a lot of force.”

“Well, she’s a big woman, bigger than you,” said Atkins before she caught herself.

“So she has been here then?” interjected Buckley.

“You mentioned money?” said Atkins.

Buckley placed two thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills on the coffee table. “And depending on what you can tell us, I’ll double that amount.”

“But what I don’t get is why everyone’s all so interested in Becky now.”

“Like who?” asked Buckley.

“The FBI has been here. Couple of gals.”

“Female FBI agents?” said Spector quickly.

“Well, one was I guess. The other woman was too old. I think the agent said she was an assistant.”

“Interesting,” noted Spector. “That’s not usually how the Bureau conducts investigations. What was the agent’s name?”

“She left me her card.” Atkins rose, went into the other room, and came back out with one of the business cards Pine had left her and handed it to Buckley. He looked at the name and then passed it to Spector.

“Did you know this Atlee Pine?” asked Buckley.

“No, but there’re almost three thousand female special agents at the Bureau.”

“Are you with the FBI, too?” asked Atkins, who was listening closely to this.

“No, but I know some of the agents.”

Buckley said, “What did you tell Agent Pine?”

“She already knew a lot, but I filled in some blanks.”

When she didn’t seem inclined to say any more, Buckley pushed the pile of cash toward her. “And we look forward to you doing the same for us, filling in blanks.”

“But what’s your concern in all this?”

“We have been tasked with finding El Cain. She’s wanted in connection with a crime.”