“Special Agent Drew McAllister. I’m out of the WFO,” he added, referring to the Washington Field Office.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been assigned to the Ito Vincenzo homicide matter.”
Pine kicked off her shoes, leaned back against her headboard, and thought back to Jack Lineberry’s frantic phone call. “And this has become an FBI ‘homicide matter’?”
“Yes. And I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“I meant in person. Where are you?”
“Asheville, North Carolina.”
“I can be there in the morning.”
“I’m not really sure what I can tell you. And why isn’t this an investigation for the local cops? I understand that police from Virginia and Georgia are already involved.”
“You know how these things roll. The Bureau has an interest, so I have an interest. Can you give me the address in Asheville?”
Pine did so, and then they arranged a time to meet in the morning. She clicked off and tossed her phone down.
“Shit,” she muttered and then rubbed her temples because she felt a sudden fire there. They really were going after Tim Pine in connection with Vincenzo’s death.
Well, they might actually find Tim and my mom for me. And then send them and Jack to jail. Great. She audibly groaned at this possibility.
Pine needed to do something, something to burn some energy. The weight room at the hotel didn’t have enough iron to challenge her, so she ran out to a shop down the street and bought a one-piece black bathing suit. She returned to her room, put on her jeans and a T-shirt over the swimsuit, and headed to the pool. She dove into the water and swam lap after lap, focusing on her strokes and her breathing—a form of cheap therapy.
Exhausted, she finished, pulled herself out of the pool, and climbed into the in-deck hot tub situated on the pool deck. She let the hot, jet-propelled water envelop her and thought about what questions Special Agent Drew McAllister would ask her tomorrow. And, more critically, what answers she would or could give.
She climbed out of the hot tub, went into the changing room, stripped off her bathing suit, dried off, and then changed back into her clothes. As she was leaving the pool area she glanced through the window of the adjacent space where the workout room was located.
There was only one person in there. A tall woman with a buzz cut. Probably in the military, Pine thought. She was outfitted in loose-fitting sweats and was moving all the stacks the universal weight machine had to offer.
Pine went back to her room, showered, and changed into another pair of jeans and a fresh sweatshirt. After a room-service dinner, she sat in her chair looking out the window and then debated whether to take a walk to further clear her mind. With Desiree in jail, she wasn’t sure what direction to head in now. But finding Mercy was still her only priority.
A moment later her phone rang. She snagged it off the nightstand.
“Yes?” she said.
“Agent Pine? This is Wanda Atkins. I hope it’s not too late for me to call.”
“No, not at all. Did you remember anything else?”
“No, but I thought you needed to know that she was here.”
“Who was there?” It couldn’t be Desiree, Pine knew.
“Beck—I mean Mercy, she was here. She tracked me down somehow.”
A dumbfounded Pine stood there shaking.
“Mercy was at your house?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
When Atkins told her Pine barked, “And you’re just calling me now!” Pine felt like her head was about to explode. She could barely breathe.
“She was very upset. Which made me very upset. I’ve been crying for what seems like days. But I finally decided I needed to call and let you know what happened.”
Pine got her nerves under control and refocused. “What did she want?”
“She wanted to know if I had a way to get in touch with Desiree.”
“And what did you say?”
“I . . . I had a phone number. I know I should have told you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“Forget about that. It doesn’t matter now. Just tell me, did you give Desiree’s number to Mercy?”
“Yes, I did. But she doesn’t go by Mercy. She goes by Eloise now, El for short. She didn’t tell me her last name. Eloise is from the children’s book. That’s what she told me. I brought her a copy of it while she was . . . with Joe and Desiree. I . . . I did try to help her, you know,” she added in a pitiful tone.
When Pine said nothing, Wanda added, “Why would she want the phone number? I really don’t think Desiree will talk to her. I mean, why would she?”
“That’s not why she wanted it,” said Pine.
“What do you mean?” Wanda added, her voice now laced with panic. “Wait, can she track Desiree down from just her phone number?”
“Yes,” said Pine, who had a sick feeling that that was exactly what Mercy was going to do and might already have done. In fact, Pine could have gotten that information faster through paying to access an internet search database than waiting for the Bureau to provide it. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. “There are ways on the internet to get a physical address from a phone number.”
“My God. Then she might already be wherever Desiree is, if it’s not too far away from Huntsville.”
Pine was almost in a trance. Her heart soared because as of this morning her sister was alive. But if she was going to try to get to Desiree? Her throat was so dry she had trouble talking. She put a hand against the wall to steady herself because her legs seemed to have lost their ability to support her. A simple question occurred to her. “What . . . what did she look like?”
“Tall, even taller than you. And very strong looking. But she was always that way. And her beautiful hair was all gone. She had cut it so close to her scalp, oh, it was sad. She looked like she was—”
“—in the military,” said Pine, suddenly remembering something.
“Yes, exactly, now I’d also wanted to let you know that some other people were here asking questions and—”
Pine heard but really didn’t register these words. She dropped her phone on the bed and rushed from the room. She banged off the walls in the hall and didn’t even bother with the elevator. She took the stairs, leaping three steps at a time. She hit the main floor, burst through the door, shoved two attendants and one guest out of the way, and sprinted through the lobby on her way to the hotel’s gym.
Please, please, please. Mother of God please.
One needed a hotel key card to access the gym. Pine didn’t bother to use hers, she simply kicked the door open. She looked frantically around and her hopes plummeted. The only person there was an elderly man reading an iPad on a recumbent exercise bike. He had nearly fallen off it when she forced the door open. Pine ran over to him and described Mercy to him.
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. The place was empty when I got here and nobody came in after.” He looked at the broken door. “Except for you.”
Pine raced to the front desk, where she flashed her shield and asked about the room number for a guest with the first name Eloise.