Lineberry gazed solemnly at Pine. “In answer to that, I’m going to give you something that your mother asked me never to let you see.”
Pine sat up straight now, every muscle tensed, her adrenaline spiking to such a degree she found it difficult to form her one-word response. “W-what?”
He once more reached into the drawer and this time pulled out a gray envelope. “When you read this, I want you to keep in mind that you must do the exact opposite of what your mother writes in here.”
“When did she send it to you?” said Pine, ignoring this curious piece of advice.
“It was around the time she left you. It just turned up in my office mail one day. I had given Tim my contact information when I saw him in Virginia. The letter has no return address. But you can see that the postmark is Charleston, South Carolina. I think she might have been on her way to meet up with Tim when she sent it to me from there.”
He held out the envelope to Pine. She stared at it like it was a gun being pointed at her. Then she took it, albeit grudgingly. She looked at the handwriting on the envelope. It was clearly her mother’s.
“I . . . I think I’ll read this later,” Pine said in a hushed tone.
In a shaky voice Lineberry said, “I should have given it to you before now. There really is no excuse except that for a large part of my adult life I was steeped in the art of keeping secrets. It’s not an excuse, you understand. It’s just . . . reality. At least it was for me.”
“Does this give any indication of where they might have gone?” asked Pine.
“Not that I could find.”
“What did you mean when you said I should do the exact opposite of what she writes?”
“Now that will be clear when you read it,” said Lineberry.
CHAPTER
5
PINE DROVE THE PORSCHE WHILE Blum piloted the rental to the drop-off location at the airport. After that they headed to Lineberry’s penthouse apartment in downtown Atlanta. Pine had been there before to have a drink with Lineberry, but it was the first visit for Blum.
“Oh my God,” said Blum when the private elevator opened directly into the penthouse suite’s vestibule. “This is something right out of a dream.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Pine glumly.
Blum eyed her. “Oh come on, Agent Pine. This is a lot better than the motel we stayed at last time. The heat didn’t work and the shower ran at a trickle.”
“He let us use his place in New York. Now we’re driving his Porsche and staying here, and we have the use of his private jet, and he wants to leave me all this money and—”
“Yes, I really do feel sorry for you having to face all that,” Blum said with a look that made Pine feel about an inch tall.
Pine sighed. “I know, I know, Carol. Most people would feel like they’d won the lottery.”
“But you’re not most people,” said Blum, growing serious.
“I don’t care about stuff like that. I never have. My apartment back in Shattered Rock is perfect. I’ve got my really cool vintage Mustang convertible. It’s all I need. I’m not a private jet sort of gal.”
“That’s fine. But let’s just use what Jack has offered in order to get where we need to go as fast as possible, like he said.”
“Right, okay.”
Blum looked at her watch. “It’s dinnertime. With the ‘staff’ on leave, should I head to what I am sure is a fabulous kitchen and whip something up? I bet the fridge and freezer are fully stocked.”
Pine took the credit card out of her pocket. “Or how about I treat you to dinner instead? Or at least Jack can.”
The building concierge gave them several recommendations, and they decided on a French bistro within walking distance of their building.
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.