Mercy (Atlee Pine #4)(7)

They ordered a bottle of wine and their meals and spent two hours at a table in the back mostly talking about innocuous things. It felt refreshing to Pine, but she also felt some remorse. Pretty much every waking moment lately had been devoted to finding her sister. Deviating from that, even for a little bit, felt like a betrayal of Mercy.

“We are making progress, Agent Pine, but we do need to take a break every now and then,” said Blum, apparently reading Pine’s thoughts.

Pine nodded and then glanced around the restaurant, eyeing people who she was sure had their own share of problems, maybe not as dire as hers, yet problems still. But she was afraid, despite the “progress” Blum had mentioned, that either her problem would never have a resolution, or the conclusion would be finding her sister’s body.

Can you handle that, Lee? You told yourself you could. But were you lying?

They were walking back when Blum said, “Will you read the letter tonight?”

Pine nodded. “Yes. I have to, although part of me is dreading it.”

“I can understand that. Although there might be some clue in there.”

“Maybe,” Pine said doubtfully.

Back in the apartment, Pine took a long, steaming hot shower, put on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, and climbed into bed.

She took the letter out and stared at the envelope for a little while. With her finger she traced her mother’s lovely cursive handwriting, which was quite familiar to her. Pine sat back against the pillow and then abruptly stood, grabbed her phone, left her room, and walked down to the wine cellar that Lineberry had shown her on their previous visit. She snagged a bottle of Italian wine. It was the same vintage that he had served Pine here before. She’d decided she needed some more alcohol to make it through the reading of her mother’s letter. A lot more.

She went out onto the terrace that wrapped itself around three sides of the penthouse. There was a glass wall rising nearly chest high enclosing the space. All-weather wicker furnishings and exquisite plantings and fountains and a large fire pit surrounded her. It really was a paradise. And she felt enormous guilt.

I wonder where Mercy is right now. I seriously doubt in a place like this.

Pine opted to just sit on the floor after using a remote control to ignite a gas fireplace enclosed by stone and textured ceramic tile. She moved closer to the flames and set her phone down, then opened the wine bottle, poured a generous amount into her glass, and took a long sip.

Okay, no more stalling, Lee.

She would sometimes refer to herself by the name she’d had growing up. She’d been given it because Mercy had trouble pronouncing “At-lee” and just started calling her Lee. The name had stuck until Pine had gone to college. Now she would dearly love to hear her sister call her by that name even once.

She took out the two-page letter and unfolded it. She frowned when she saw her hand shaking. She took another sip of wine to calm her nerves. It didn’t work.

Come on! It’s just a stupid letter.

But, clearly, it was far more than that. This would be the first example she’d ever seen of what her mother was thinking about things since she had abandoned her daughter all those years ago. Pine finished the glass of wine and poured another.

So here goes, Pine thought, taking a deep breath and holding it, like she was about to go underwater for a while.

Dear Jack,

Once again you have come to the rescue and Tim and I can’t thank you enough. It was terrible, horrible, what happened in Virginia. The person obviously wanted to either hurt me by killing Tim, or thought I might be there with Tim. I am still shaking after almost losing him.



Here, Pine almost put the letter down. She had no desire to hear her mother’s thoughts on almost losing her husband when she had chosen to walk away from her daughter. But something made her continue.

And then came the even harder part. Leaving my beloved Lee. I can’t believe that I’m even writing this, Jack. She is really all I have left. After Mercy was taken, which was entirely my fault, as we both know, Lee was all that kept my life going. I know that I smothered her, at the same time I put up a wall between us. I felt that if I let myself get too close to her that I would let something slip that would put her in danger. I couldn’t do that to my little girl. Sitting next to her in that hospital bed, not knowing if she was going to live or die, not knowing what had happened to Mercy, my mind just shut down. I couldn’t process anything other than the well-deserved guilt I was feeling. When my girls needed me, I wasn’t there. There is no more basic duty for a mother. And I failed that duty miserably. She has now grown into a very smart, accomplished young woman I’m so proud of. And she did it all on her own. I know that she sees how I have shut her out and this just deepens my guilt. To withhold love from someone you love more than life itself, it does something to you, Jack, something irreversibly painful. But I can’t make myself change course now. I just can’t. The truth is if Lee thinks I don’t love her then she won’t miss me when I’m gone. At least that’s my hope. Now, I have come into some money, I won’t tell you exactly how, but I figured out something and when I confronted the person I turned out to be right. This money will fund Lee’s college and also help provide for her later in life, and also give Tim and me something to live on. It is with a heavy heart that I am leaving her, but I feel very confident that she will be safe now.

When you recruited me all those years ago I was younger than Lee is now. I was scared to death. I didn’t want to do it, but you showed me how much good would come of it. And I suppose it has. For others. But not for the Pine family. I fully accepted that. Tim did as well. But not Mercy and Lee. They had no choice. All I know is, even though Tim and I will be together, I will be more alone than I ever have been before. Without my daughters, I am nothing. I thought that I had sacrificed everything for them. In the end, I simply sacrificed them. No mother could have done any worse than I did. So much so that I don’t deserve to even be called one, not anymore. I think of Mercy and Lee every day and I will until the day I die. They were both my little flowers that I let wither. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what I did, for the poor choices that I made. At least I can try.