* * *

  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.”

  Pine didn’t respond to this.

  “We don’t seem to be getting anywhere,” said Buckley quietly.

  “What’s your interest in Cain?” asked Pine.

  “She killed someone.”

  “Who?”

  “None of your concern,” said Buckley.

  “How do you know she killed the person?”

  “There were multiple witnesses.”

  “Why did she do it?” asked Pine.

  “Again, none of your concern,” replied Buckley.

  “Was it self-defense?”

  “I’ve answered a number of your questions. I think it’s your turn.”

  “She’s part of an investigation I’m involved in,” said Pine.

  “I know about the FBI’s PSA. You’re looking for her. Her name once was Rebecca Atkins and she was from Georgia.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I made inquiries into the matter. There was a murder. Joe Atkins. His wife, Desiree Atkins, disappeared. Is that the FBI’s interest?”

  “Yes.”

  “She wasn’t their daughter. She was kidnapped by someone and brought to the Atkinses.”

  “You seem to know a lot,” said Pine.

  “I also know that back then her name was Mercy. What was her last name?”

  Pine thought quickly. “We don’t know that yet.”

  “You’re lying. If she was kidnapped, she had to have a last name and the FBI would know it. What was the last name?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “What is the exact nature of your investigation?”

  “I can’t disclose that.”

  Buckley nodded at Spector and flicked a finger at Pine.

  Spector stepped forward, drew a breath, and drove her fist into Pine’s gut. Pine hadn’t sensed something coming and wasn’t prepared for the blow, but her rock-solid abs protected her somewhat. Still, the hard shot hurt like hell and she toppled out of the chair. One of the men lifted Pine up and slammed her back into the seat, where she pitched forward, trying not to throw up.

  When she finally managed to sit up Pine gasped, “You’re in a world of trouble for kidnapping an FBI agent.”

  “I agree” was Buckley’s surprising reply. “Only my men mistook you for Cain. Tall and strong looking with long dark hair was the description that I took off a copy of her driver’s license. To be fair to my people, you were coming out of her hotel room. Now we must make the best of it. I have kept you blindfolded so that we might have a peaceful resolution of this matter. You tell me what I need to know and we let you go. I have no wish to end your life unnecessarily.”

  “I have nothing to tell you because I don’t know where Cain is. I’m looking for her, just like you.”

  “I know she booked a room at the hotel where you were staying. Have you already met with her? Where is she?”

  “I didn’t know she was at my hotel.”

  “As I already pointed out, you were coming out of her room. My men confirmed the number from one of the hotel staff.”

  “Okay, I did find out she was there, but only after she had left. There was no suitcase, no nothing in the room.”

  “So why are you still in Asheville then? Is it this Desiree Atkins, the one who disappeared?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Pine.

  “Why not?”

  “She was arrested in the last twenty-four hours, and she’s in jail now, charged with some serious crimes.”

  “What was she arrested for exactly?” asked Buckley.

  “I choose not to tell you.”

  On a sign from Buckley, Spector struck Pine another blow, this time via a spin kick to the side of her head. Perhaps fortunately for her, this time the blow knocked Pine unconscious.

  Buckley looked at her lying there on the floor and then turned to one of his men.

  “Find out about the woman who was arrested. I doubt it will be under the name Desiree Atkins. Do it now.”

  The man hustled up the stairs, while Spector bent down to check on Pine. She felt for a pulse and was relieved it was strong. She brushed the hair out of Pine’s face and saw the large bruise forming on the side of her face.

  She glanced over at Buckley.

  “I didn’t mean to hit her that hard.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Buckley absently.

  “Peter, she’s an FBI agent. Do you know how serious this is?”

  “I look at it as an opportunity.”

  Spector straightened. “What does that mean? What opportunity?”

  “You know of my personal history?”

  “Some, yes.”

  “My father was destroyed by the federal government. They even managed to make my mother betray him.”

  “Peter, I understand that—”

  Buckley barked, “This is my chance to make it right, Britt. This may be my only chance. And I’m going to take it.” He looked at the fallen Pine. “There lies the shining symbol of the federal government in all its inept and disgusting glory.” He looked at Spector. “Two birds with one stone, Britt. A lifetime of injustice rectified in one act.”

  As Spector stared over at the man, she tensed. His expression, his entire demeanor, had changed drastically. It was as though he were another person entirely.

  “Where is all this coming from, Peter? I thought we were just after Eloise Cain. I didn’t sign on to wage some symbolic war against the federal government because of what it did to your family.”

  He pointed his finger at her. “You signed on to do what I tell you to do. If you can’t do that, you are of no use to me.”

  “I thought you said you were going to reach a peaceful resolution on this with regard to Agent Pine.”

  “I lied. Now, are you with me, or not?

  Spector glanced at the fallen Pine. “I’m with you, of course.”

  “Thank you. Now, I have a phone call to make.”

  He went to a corner and punched in a number while Spector bent over Pine and tried to revive her.

  The call was answered five seconds later by a distinguished, baritone male voice.

  “Mr. Buckley? Is something wrong?”

  “I need you to come to Asheville, North Carolina. I’ll send the jet.”

  “And what’s in Asheville?”

  “I have someone I want you to represent in a matter of great importance to me.”

  Chapter 46

  TWO HOURS OUTSIDE OF ASHEVILLE, Cain pulled off the road, cut the engine, and just sat there. She rubbed her face and then rubbed it again. She felt dirty despite her shower after working out; she felt sick despite not being ill. She had come here to tear down her nemesis once and for all, only to find that her nemesis was sitting in jail.

  But not before she had kidnapped another girl and held her prisoner. In her anxiety, Cain pushed against the steering wheel so hard she actually felt it start to bend. She relaxed and looked out the window. The darkness looked back at her without a trace of understanding or empathy, when, in all honesty, she was looking for both.

  You have to put this behind you, El. You can’t do this anymore. You won’t make it.

  But she had another dilemma. The FBI was still looking for her. She hadn’t stabbed Joe Atkins, but there was no way that Desiree would ever say that she hadn’t. She would try to take Cain down with her, that was for certain. In fact, she thought, with a sudden panic, she might use that as leverage to get a better deal on her current crimes. Trade Cain for a lighter sentence. Cain wouldn’t put anything past the woman, because literally nothing was beyond her.

  So where did that leave her? Tired and clueless and just not giving a shit. With Desiree behind bars all the energy seemed to have been sucked right out of her. That was why she had decided to just leave. But now she was rethinking that decision. Cain fingered the hotel key card in her pocket. She had blown good money on her room and she hadn’t even slept there or even checked out. She decided to go back and get a good night’s sleep. In the morning she would decide what to do.

  She drove back to the hotel, went up to her room, and fell into bed. At least for a few hours her troubles would no longer rule her thoughts, but they might sneak back in the form of nightmares. As she closed her eyes, Cain simply decided to chance it. Nightmares couldn’t really hurt you. It was only when you awoke from them that the real pain could come.

  * * *

  The next morning Carol Blum was getting worried. She had arranged to meet with Pine for an early breakfast, but Pine hadn’t shown up, which was not like her. Blum had phoned both her cell and her room and gotten no answer. She had gone to Pine’s room and knocked and also gotten no response. When she called Pine’s phone, she could hear it ringing from inside the room. Something was definitely wrong.

  She rushed down to the lobby to find out if anyone had seen Pine, when two men in blue FBI windbreakers strode into the hotel looking like they owned the place.

  “Agent McAllister?” she said, going over to the men and instinctively focusing on the older one.

  That man was well into his forties, salt-and-pepper haired, medium height, and with a trim build and alert manner. The other was in his early thirties, tall and lanky, with a jutting chin, a high, lined forehead, and blond hair. He looked at Blum with suspicion.

  The older man nodded. “I’m Special Agent Drew McAllister. And you are?”

  Blum quickly explained who she was and also that Pine was apparently missing.

  McAllister quickly took charge and made inquiries at the front desk. One of the attendants led them up to Pine’s room and opened the door for them. They quickly searched through the room and found that Pine’s belongings were all there, except they couldn’t find her guns.

  “They might be in the room safe,” said Blum. “I know she usually stows them in there.” She opened the closet, and pointed out the safe. “It’s locked.”

  “You’re probably right,” said McAllister.

  “She had her shield with her when she was going back to her room last night,” Blum told them.

  “Well, maybe she never made it back to her room,” said McAllister grimly. “Is your car still in the parking lot?”

  “Yes, I saw it from out of my window.”

  “And she didn’t contact you after you saw her last night?”

  “No. I think you’re right. I don’t think she made it back to her room.”

  “Anything unusual happen here last night?” asked the other agent, who had been introduced as Special Agent Neil Bertrand.

  Blum glanced at him for a moment, her mind spinning rapidly. She did not want to tell the FBI about Mercy Pine having been in the hotel last night. But once they made inquiries, the agents would find out about the questions Pine had been asking the previous night.

  “We were following up some leads, but nothing panned out,” she said, deciding to judiciously tell a semblance of the truth. She had been with the FBI for far too long to outright lie to two of its agents.

  McAllister gave her the Bureau stare-down, which Blum handled with aplomb, having confronted it many times in the past.

  “How long you been with the Bureau?” he asked coolly. When she told him, he said, “Yeah, I thought so.” He cracked a grin. “You’ve got all our numbers, right?”

  “I just want to find Agent Pine.”

  They went back downstairs, where McAllister and Bertrand methodically questioned the staff. They finally found one employee who was about to go off duty. He said he had seen a woman fitting Pine’s description leaving the hotel around ten that night with two men.

  “Did it seem like she was being taken against her will?” asked McAllister.

  “I don’t know,” said the man. “But they were real close to her. One guy actually had his arm around her waist. And she didn’t look very happy, now that I recall. But it’s not like she was screaming or anything.”

  “Did you see if they got into a car?” asked Bertrand.

  “No, I didn’t go outside.”

  At that point McAllister called in the local police. The employee was given over to a sketch artist to provide a description of the two men. Security footage from the previous night was checked, but there was no sign of Pine on any of it. McAllister speculated that the men might not have been parked in the lot, but perhaps right in front of the hotel.

  “But why would they have targeted her?” asked McAllister after they had finished with the local cops.

  “I don’t know,” said Blum. She did explain about Dolores Venuti’s having been arrested, and having gone to see her in the detention facility. “Besides having enslaved a young girl, she apparently was running some sort of drug enterprise. These men might have been working for her as part of that.”

  McAllister and Bertrand went to consult with the local cops about this possible lead, leaving Blum all alone in the lobby.

  She walked around in a bit of a daze until she passed by the front desk. The clerk who had been on duty the previous evening walked into the lobby and spotted her.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes.”

  “The guest you and your friend were looking for yesterday?”

  Blum instantly tensed. “Yes?”

  “She came back last night.”

  “She did?”

  “Yep. I recognized her. Eloise Cain. She sort of stands out. When I was driving in I saw her out jogging. When I pulled into the parking lot, she was going into the gym through the outdoor entrance.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  He smiled. “Hey, sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Where’s your agent friend?”

  “I wish I knew,” said Blum. “How do I get to the gym?”

  Praying with every step, Blum found the gym and approached the door. She peeked through the window and saw a very tall woman in a tank top and sweatpants lifting a stack of weights on the universal machine. Her muscles were taut and defined, and for a moment Blum thought she was staring at her boss minus the hair.

  She used the key card to access the door. When it opened El Cain looked over at her. She seemed puzzled, because Blum was clearly not dressed for working out.

  Blum thought for a moment about how best to handle this. Finally, she decided, in the urgency of the moment, that the direct approach was best.

  “Mercy Pine? Your twin sister, FBI Special Agent Atlee Pine, has been kidnapped from this hotel, and I need your help to find her.”

  Chapter 47

  CAIN SLOWLY ROSE, TOWERING OVER BLUM, who had stepped a bit closer to her.

  “Who in the hell are you?” said Cain.

  “My name is Carol Blum. I work at the FBI. My boss is Atlee Pine, your twin sister. We’ve been trying to find you for a long time now.”

  “I don’t have a sister, twin or otherwise.”

  Blum took something from her purse and held it out to Cain, who snatched it and looked down at the photo. “That’s a picture that Agent Pine had of you and her and your mother when you were living in Andersonville, Georgia. It’s a Polaroid, the only one she had of you as sisters. I’ve been carrying it for her as we look for you.”

  Cain’s gaze took in every aspect of the images. Things, murky elements in her memory, started to jostle back and forth, like bumper cars. The effect was as jarring as real bumper cars would be. “My mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this Atlee, you say she’s my sister?”

  “That’s right.”

  Cain thrust the photo back at Blum. “That’s a crock of shit. I’ve never even heard of anyone named Atlee.” She grabbed her hoodie and stalked off toward the door.

  “But I’m telling you the truth.”

  Cain whipped back around and shouted, “Leave me the hell alone, lady. I don’t need this shit, especially right now.”

  As Cain turned away from her Blum frantically thought for a moment and then cried out, “You called her Lee when you were kids.”

  On this, Cain froze in the doorway of the gym. She expected every muscle in her body to tense, but instead they relaxed, like a tired swimmer’s did, after getting safely back to shore.

  It’s okay, Momma, it’s just Lee being Lee. She’ll find her way down. She always does. Don’t be mad at her, Momma.

  Cain now began to tremble. The calm was gone. The bumper cars in her head were now smacking each other with increasing velocity. It actually hurt, not like a headache. It was like someone had lit a match to her soul. But she needed more than a name and an old picture.

  She turned to Blum. “There are lots of girls named Lee.”

  “Your mother’s name was…Julia,” Blum said tentatively.

  Cain shook her head. “Means nothing to me.”

  She again turned to leave while Blum desperately tried to think of something, anything to hold her. Then she remembered their meeting with Desiree, what the woman had said about the book that had driven Mercy into a frenzy. Maybe she would remember that.

  “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” Blum blurted out.

  Cain whipped around. “What?”

  “The nursery rhyme the kidnapper used to choose between the two of you. ‘Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.’ Do you recall that?”

  Cain sagged against the wall and then abruptly sat down on one of the weight stack benches.