Mercy (Atlee Pine #4)(77)

Mercy nodded and looked thoughtfully out the window. “And my dad is this Jack Lineberry character? How exactly did that shake out?”

“He worked at a government agency. I’m not sure which one. As I said, he was your mother’s handler. They developed feelings for each other and acted on those feelings. I’m sure it was a very difficult time for both of them. Jack was actually engaged to someone else, but then he fell in love with your mother. And . . . and then they . . . got together and your mother became pregnant with you and your sister.”

Mercy smiled. “You have a nice, polite way with words, Carol. You mean they had sex and out popped twins.”

“That’s one way to describe it,” said Blum primly.

She turned left to follow the Escalade.

“And where is this Lineberry guy now?”

“He’s at his estate in Georgia.”

“Estate, huh? Must be nice.”

“He’s leaving everything to you and Agent Pine, by the way. All his wealth. You will be a very rich woman when the time comes.”

Blum glanced at Mercy to see her reaction to this. It wasn’t what she expected. Or maybe it was.

Mercy was frowning. “I get by just fine. I don’t need big bucks from a guy who screwed my mom.”

“Well, it will come to you eventually. And you can do with it what you want.”

“You’re assuming I outlive the guy. Nothing is guaranteed,” she added bluntly.

“No argument there.”

Five minutes later Blum said, “It looks like we have arrived.”

The Escalade had slowed and turned into a long drive that led up to a substantial home on about five acres.

“Well, whoever we’re dealing with has some bucks of his own,” noted Mercy.

Blum slowed the Porsche and pulled past the driveway the Escalade had turned into. Then she drove on and turned into the parking lot of a church that was down the street a bit. There were other cars in the parking lot, and she edged in between two of them so as not to stand out.

She stared across the street at the house.

“They might have Agent Pine in there.”

“Maybe so. Now what do we do?”

“We could call the police, but we really have no grounds to do so. And if they come and find nothing in there, the people will know we’re on to them.”

“I can go take a look,” offered Mercy.

“No, it’s too dangerous. If they are in there, they could capture or kill you.”

“Then what—we just wait out here while they might be in there hurting Lee?”

Blum looked torn. “But you have no experience doing this sort of thing.”

“Let me tell you something, I’ve kicked the shit out of more ‘tough’ guys than any gal you’ll ever meet, including your boss. There’s a lot to worry about with this, but me not being able to handle myself ain’t one of them.”

“But—”

Mercy started to open the door. “I’ll be careful. I’ll just go and take a peek. Okay?”

Blum’s defenses crumbled away. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as my name is Mercy Pine.” She leaned into the back seat, zipped open her duffel, and took out her Glock in the belt clip.

When Blum saw it she said, “Do you have a permit for that?”

“Where I got it, you don’t need a permit or a background check. And North Carolina is an ‘open carry without a permit’ state. I checked that before I came here.”

“Why did you do that?”

Mercy put the clip holster on her waistband and covered it with her sweatshirt. “I don’t like to get hassled by the cops if I can avoid it. What’s your phone number? I’ll text or call you if something pops.”

Blum gave her the number, and Mercy put it in her contacts list. Then Blum opened the glove box, plucked out a pair of small binoculars, and handed them to Mercy.

“Thanks. I feel like a real spy now.”

Blum said, “Please, please be careful. I don’t want to lose both sisters.”

Mercy got out, looked both ways down the road, then hustled across the street. She made a wide berth around the target property and promptly disappeared from sight.

Blum sat back in her seat, ran a shaky hand over her forehead, and started to pray.





CHAPTER





53


A PREOCCUPIED BUCKLEY SAT IN A CHAIR in the dining room of the house, where the large furnishings still looked small in relation to the enormous space. Spector moodily leaned against the wall, while Stephen Marbury paced restlessly in front of them.

The house was closed for the season; its owners were at their other home in Colorado, which was probably even more splendid than this one. The property manager had been paid a large fee to allow them to use it for a couple of hours as a safe meeting place. No faces, no names, just cash.

“This puts me in a bit of a pickle, Mr. Buckley,” said Marbury, who, while he paced, seemed focused on the state of his wingtips rather than the measure of his client.

Buckley was barely listening. The phone call he’d gotten had more than ruined his day. Agent Pine had escaped. His men had been found, revived, and relocated before the police arrived, thankfully, but that was small consolation for the problems Pine’s gaining her freedom could potentially cause him. He said absently, “I never told Pine you had been hired by me. Only that Dolores Venuti would be seeking bail. I didn’t even say you would be the one seeking it. The connection is tenuous at best.”