“How so?”
Atkins looked up, a pained expression on her face. “See, the thing was, Desiree never left us alone. She was always hovering. And Becky always wore long pants and long sleeves, even when it was hot and humid, like it is a lot in Georgia. And then, after thirty minutes or so, they’d swoop Becky, I mean Mercy, away, and that would be that.”
“And then at some point you found out the truth?”
Atkins nodded. “We made a surprise visit. Not to catch them doing anything but just to stop by. I had found a cute dress for Mercy and wanted to give it to her. This was maybe two years after they got her. We heard screaming coming from the house. We both of us rushed in. And . . . ” Here Atkins stopped for a moment and drew several long breaths, sucking on the oxygen coming into her nose like it was a line of crack.
“What?” prompted Pine.
Another moan came from behind them. When Pine turned to look, Len Atkins was pantomiming something. He was pushing the fingers of his functioning arm into his damaged one.
Pine whirled back on Atkins. “What is he trying to tell us?” she demanded.
“Mercy was tied down to a table. And Desiree was sticking needles into Mercy’s arms and legs. Dozens and dozens of them. She was screaming in pain.”
CHAPTER
16
PINE WIPED THE WATER OFF HER face with the hand towel in the Atkinses’ bathroom. She looked at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She almost didn’t recognize the reflection staring back at her. She seemed transformed into something hollower than she had been before knocking on the Atkinses’ door, as though a core part of her had been ripped away. She drew a long breath and tried to settle her nerves. She had had to abruptly leave the room and come here after Wanda Atkins had told them about Mercy being tortured with needles.
She went over to the window and looked out. A hawk was lazily flapping its wings as it made its way across the sky. She heard the sounds of children playing from another yard. A truck rumbled by. There was a car horn. And the blustery noise of a motorcycle starting up somewhere. A white-haired woman was taking laundry off the backyard clothesline next door. All normal, all regular.
And none of it had anything to do with how she was feeling, which was anything but normal. It was all ragged and piercing and traumatizing.
And it’s nothing compared to what Mercy endured.
She shivered once, squared her shoulders firmly, though she in fact felt no spine in her body or soul, and returned to the front room to find both Atkins and Blum staring anxiously at her.
Pine retook her seat after saying, “Sorry about that. I just had to take . . . a moment. I’ve . . . I’ve gotten personally involved in this case.” She did not want to reveal to Atkins her familial connection to Mercy for a number of reasons.
Atkins said slowly, “Yes, well, I can understand that, sure.” She glanced apprehensively between Pine and Blum.
Pine cleared her throat and said, “And did you think to take Mercy from her after you saw what Desiree was doing to her?”
“We were certainly stunned. But then Joe explained it away.”
“How could he possibly do that?” said Pine between clenched teeth.
Atkins kneaded her thighs with her hands in her agitation. “He . . . he said that Mercy had terrible pains and that what Desiree was doing was sort of like that, oh what do you call it when they stick the pins in you?”
“Acupuncture?” suggested Blum.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Acupuncture doesn’t make you scream in pain,” pointed out Pine, her cold gaze square on the other woman. “The needles they use aren’t anything like regular needles.”
“Well, I believed my son,” said Atkins defensively as she looked away.
“And did you know about them moving her from the house to the prison in the woods?”
Atkins winced at this. “They . . . they told us she was uncontrollable. That she would hurt herself and others. They had to take precautions. It was to keep her safe, too,” she added.
Pine drew out the photo again. “So this girl standing right next to you was uncontrollable and would hurt herself and others?”
“Joe said they had given her something to calm her down that day.”
“Well, Joe seemed to have an answer for everything. Did you go out to the prison cell?”
Atkins looked up at her. “I did.”
“Why?”
She spread her arms and said in a near wail, “Because . . . I felt so sorry for her. I brought her food and books and I talked to her about things, read to her, did numbers with her. I’m no teacher or anything, but I did what I could. I . . . I just wanted her to have a friend.”
“But you never told the authorities about what Desiree was doing to her?” interjected Blum. “That she was being held prisoner?”
Atkins shook her head. “I . . . I was afraid. Len and I could go to jail.”
Pine said impatiently, “Talk to me about that last night. When Joe was killed.”
“We had no idea any of that had happened. We only found out about Joe the next day.”
“If you lie to me, I will arrest you.”
“What do you mean?” said Atkins, looking severely shaken.
“We know that Desiree vanished. We know she drove their truck to the location where it was found by the police. Her husband was dead and Mercy was gone. Who would she call except you and your husband? You’re the only ones who knew what was going on, who knew of their criminal acts.” Pine stared the woman down. “So you need to tell us the truth.”
Atkins eyed her husband, who had grunted at her and then added a nod of his tilted head to that.
Atkins turned back to Pine with a resigned expression. “She called while Len and me were watching TV, a rerun of Gilligan’s Island. Funny how you remember things like that.”
“Go on,” said Pine impatiently.
Atkins said in a rush, her words coming out like beans spilled from a jar, “She said Becky had gone crazy, had broken out and killed Joe and then run off. Desiree said she had to get away or else they’d arrest her. She was out of her mind with panic.”
“Why would you agree to help her at that point?” asked Pine. “With your son dead?”
“We were completely paralyzed by what she told us.” Tears slid down the old woman’s cheeks. “My God, she had just told me my son had been murdered. And then that evil bitch threatened us. She said if we didn’t help her, that she would tell the police we knew all about it. She said she’d tell the police that we had tortured Becky. Len and I didn’t know what to do. We were scared out of our minds. Desiree can lie better than anybody. So we helped her get away.”
“How exactly did you do that?”
“We drove her all the way to Atlanta. She got a bus out.”
“To where?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell us. We haven’t seen her since.”
“Or talked to her?”
“No. And good riddance.”
“And what did she tell you about Joe’s death?”
“She said that Joe tried to stop Becky, I mean Mercy, from leaving. And . . . they fought.”
“And Mercy killed him?” said Pine.