Дэвид Балдаччи - Mercy

Pine’s features calmed and she rested her elbows on the counter and looked at the woman, her expression one of desperation mingled with mental exhaustion. “Would it make a difference if I told you the woman in question is my twin sister? And that I haven’t seen her since we were six and she was kidnapped from our home in Georgia?”

The woman took a step back and gave each of them a searching glance. “Is that really the case?”

“I would never make something like that up.” Using Blum’s phone because she had left hers in her room, Pine showed the woman the image of Mercy from the FBI PSA. “This is my sister at the exact moment when she broke free from years as a captive in a living hell. Now, I believe she’s in this hotel. I’ve never been this close to her in thirty years.” Pine handed the phone back to Blum and said pleadingly, “Will you please help me? If I have to wait for a warrant, she’ll be long gone. This may be my only shot.”

A significant moment passed while the woman processed all of this. Then she nodded and said, “Would you like a tour of our security room? We sometimes offer that to our guests so they can see how we take ensuring their safety seriously. I can even have my personnel show some actual footage from the parking lot from today, say around the time your sister checked in?”

“Thank you,” said Pine with a relieved smile. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m someone’s sister, too,” the woman said demurely.

Ten minutes later Pine and Blum were sitting next to a woman in uniform in a small office near the hotel’s business center. The woman was hitting keys on her computer, and footage was coming up on the screen.

“Okay, here we go.” She manipulated the footage to speed it up to whenever someone appeared in the parking lot. They saw people come and go in their cars.

Then Pine said, “Hold it right there. There!”

The woman froze the footage, and Pine and Blum stared at a very tall person in a hoodie getting out of a car. The film quality was poor, black-and-white and grainy.

“It’s hard to make out much,” said Blum. “Including whether it’s a man or a woman.”

“Can’t see the face at all,” Pine added in a disappointed tone. “Only the profile. Can you let it go frame by frame?” she asked the woman.

The security officer nodded and hit some keys. They watched as the person walked slowly away from the car and toward the hotel, with a duffel in hand.

“Still can’t make them out, and I couldn’t see the license plate, either,” said Pine. “Can you go back and enhance it?”

“Sorry, that’s the best I can do,” the woman said. “But the car’s make and model are clear. It’s a Honda Civic. Looks to be really, really old.”

“Yes it does,” said Blum.

Pine said, “Thank you for doing this.”

“No problem. Hope you find the person.”

Pine and Blum walked out and headed toward the elevator.

“I can’t believe this. She was right there and now she’s gone.”

Blum said, “Why do you think Mercy is involved in all this now?”

“She must have seen the FBI’s PSA. And that’s a problem.”

“Why?” asked Blum.

“The way the Bureau worded it, she might think they’re after her for Joe Atkins’s murder. Shit, I should have asked Wanda if Mercy was worried about that. But I can phone and ask her when I get back to my room. Since she called my cell I have her number in my phone list.”

Blum said, “Can you get the Bureau to change the message? We know she didn’t kill Atkins, not after Desiree confessed.”

“I tried to do that before, but they wouldn’t relent. You know they try to walk a fine line at all times. I can try again after what we learned from Desiree, but I’m not going to hold my breath.” She suddenly brightened. “When McAllister gets here tomorrow I can ask him about it. He might be able to persuade the higher-ups to go for that.”

“In the meantime you can put out an APB for a Honda Civic.”

Pine said, “I can and will, but would you like to take a guess how many of them there are? And we couldn’t even tell the color.”

“Well, you can put out a description of Mercy. She does stand out. And now we have an updated description of her.”

“Yeah, I can do that, too.”

“You don’t sound hopeful.”

“Oh, I am hopeful, Carol. And for one very good reason.”

Blum nodded. “Now you know that your sister is alive.”

Pine broke into a relieved grin. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“I’ve never been this happy and miserable at the same time. And who knows, we’ve already had one miracle. Maybe we’ll have another one and Mercy will show back up at the hotel.”

“My fingers are crossed.”

Blum went to her room, but Pine decided to check on Mercy’s room again. She figured she might have missed something. She had been too distracted to perform a thorough search.

She took a few minutes to look around and then picked up the discarded towel and washcloth and sat on the side of the tub holding them.

Would she ever again be this close to her sister? Would Mercy disappear again for another thirty years?

She had been euphoric for about two minutes. Now she had never felt this depressed. She dropped the towel and washcloth on the floor. “I’m sorry, Mercy. I was so stupid. I should have known that was you. I should have.”

She rose and left. She turned to pull the door closed behind her.

That’s when she felt a gun muzzle pressed against her spine and a voice said, “Come with us very quietly. Or you’re dead right here. And if you make one move or try to get away we will kill anyone we run into. If you don’t believe me, just try it.”

Pine looked back into the man’s hard, cruel features.

And believed him.

A blindfolded Pine drew a long breath. She could not see the pitch-darkness that surrounded her like a cage, but she could sense it. She was also bound and gagged. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but for some reason she thought it was still nighttime.

Even with her feet and hands bound she had managed to sleep a little, if fitfully. She had no idea who had snatched her, or why. Or where she currently was. They had blindfolded her on the drive over to wherever they were. She had managed to gauge how long the trip had taken. About a half hour or so. In a mountainous area like Asheville, she could be in the middle of nowhere now.

She had heard noises every now and then, but the men had not come back. She had been helped down a set of steps, so she might be in a basement or a cellar.

Pine tensed when she heard footsteps above. There were the murmurings of conversation, then a raised voice was saying something she could not make out and then came more footsteps. A door opened and a light clicked on. With the blindfold on, the light couldn’t dazzle her, but her heart started to race when the footsteps drew near.

Peter Buckley and Britt Spector stopped in front of Pine, and both gazed down at Buckley’s hand, which held Pine’s FBI shield. Spector looked quite upset at the prospect of having a kidnapped FBI agent in their midst, but Buckley didn’t seem unduly disturbed by this. He glanced over at the two men who had abducted Pine and then turned back to her.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“FBI Special Agent Atlee Pine. Who the hell are you?”

Buckley pulled up a chair and sat down across from Pine.

“I am looking for someone named Eloise Cain. I understand that you have also been making inquiries about her. Why?”

“Answer my question first.”

“To negotiate, one must have something to negotiate with. You have nothing.”