They heard moaning behind them and turned to see tears sliding down Len Atkins’s cheeks.

  Atkins rose and stroked her husband’s cheek. “It’s okay, Len. We…I just have to tell them, okay?”

  He jerkily nodded and she resumed her seat.

  Pine refocused on her. “Did you know how Joe and Desiree were treating Mercy?”

  Atkins stared down at the floor. She said slowly, “At first things seemed normal. They seemed to be settling in as a family.”

  “Did they formally adopt Mercy?” asked Blum.

  “They said they did.”

  “But you never saw any paperwork, a certificate?”

  “No.”

  “Go on,” said Pine.

  “Then it got to be that whenever we would come over to see her, they would scramble around and whisk the child away to dress her up and get her room clean. But I would talk to her and play with her and things still seemed fine, though I could sense there was something strange going on.”

  “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.

  “That’s what Desiree said.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “I didn’t know what to believe. It was all a blur by then.”

  “And the sheriff told you about Joe the next day?”

  Atkins’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “I already knew he was dead, but I had to pretend to be shocked. It was the worst day of my whole life.”

  “And what did the sheriff tell you about Joe?”

  “He was sure that Desiree had killed him. I mean, he had no idea about Mercy living there. We told him we hadn’t seen or heard from Desiree.”

  “So you lied to him and obstructed the investigation,” said Pine bluntly.

  Atkins nodded, her features full of misery. “I…I suppose we did, yes.”

  Pine eyed Len Atkins, who looked back at her mournfully. He slowly shook his head. “I think your husband would like you to tell the truth.”

  Atkins glanced sharply at him. “I am telling the truth.”

  Pine said firmly, “So your son’s body lay outside all night long and was untouched by animals? Not one bite taken out of him, according to the police.”

  Atkins put a trembling hand to her face. “Please, stop. Please.”

  Len grunted. Pine glanced at him once more. He was staring fiercely at his wife.

  Atkins looked at him, drew in a sharp breath, and said, “Okay, we went over there…and saw Joe’s body. We had to. He was our son. We had to make sure. We didn’t know if Desiree was lying or what. When we saw he was…dead…we…we couldn’t leave our son out…out there alone.” She teared up again. “It was horrible…Len had his shotgun and he kept watch and scared the critters away…but…but the flies…they were all over h-him.” She let out a gush of air and took some time to calm while Pine and Blum waited.

  Atkins wiped her eyes with her sleeve and said, “I met Desiree at the old Esso station, and drove her to Atlanta while Len guarded Joe’s body. The next morning he was going to call 911 from a pay phone and tell them about Joe without identifying who he was.”

  “Why wait until the next morning?” interjected Pine.

  “Desiree wanted time to get away. But then early the next morning, before I got back from taking Desiree, Len heard someone coming and hid. A man was walking his dog. He found Joe’s body and ran off, obviously to call the police. I got there about ten minutes later and Len told me what had happened. We drove back together to the trailer. When the police showed up later we acted all surprised.”

  Pine studied her. “Did you look at the body closely?”

  “It was our son, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Blum interjected, “We know this is hard, Wanda. But we’re trying to find Mercy. Anything you can tell us about what you observed that night will help.”

  Atkins wiped her eyes and said firmly, “There was a knife sticking in my son’s back, and he was dead, that’s what I saw.”

  “Anything else?” asked Pine.

  “I don’t know. I was so upset.” She paused. “He…he had a lump and some blood on his head. I remember that.”

  “Did you see signs of a struggle?” asked Pine.

  “No. But I’m not sure what I would be looking for.”

  “What did Desiree say actually happened? As detailed as you can recall.”

  “That Mercy got away somehow. And Joe tried to stop her. And she attacked him. And stabbed him. And then ran off.”

  “Where’d she get the knife?”

  “Desiree didn’t say.”

  “There was a gunshot,” said Pine. “On the surveillance tape we heard a shot.”

  “I don’t know anything about that. Desiree never mentioned a gunshot.”

  “Did Desiree have a shotgun when you saw her at the Esso station?”

  “No.”

  “Did she tell you where she was going? Are you sure you haven’t been in contact with her over the years? Not once?”

  “No. I don’t want to ever see that awful woman again,” Atkins snapped.

  “And then you moved away?”

  “Yes. We sold Joe’s house. With Desiree gone, we were next of kin. We used that money to buy this place. Joe also had money in some bank accounts from his business. All of that came to us, too,” she added, shooting them nervous glances.

  “I see.”

  Pine rose, took out a couple of her business cards, and handed them to Atkins. “You think of anything else, or if you hear from Desiree, please call me.”

  “I doubt we’ll hear from her after all this time.”

  “Oh, you just never know, do you?”

  Chapter 17

  AS THEY DROVE AWAY FROM THE HOUSE, Pine said, “She was lying.”

  “How so?” asked Blum.

  “Desiree would never walk away and leave them all that money from the house sale and the bank accounts. If she was going to start over, she needed financial resources. I’m betting Wanda knows where she is and they keep in contact just in case someone like us shows up asking questions. And I think the shotgun Joe had was the same one that Len used to guard his son that night.”

  “If you’re right, what are we going to do about it?”

  Pine glanced in the rearview mirror. “If they are in contact with her, our visit must have really shaken up old Wanda. In fact…” Pine suddenly pulled off the road, put the Porsche in park, and said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She climbed out and hustled back down the street. Before she reached the Atkinses’ home she cut through a stand of woods and came up on the rear of the property. She jumped over the chain-link fence and headed up to the back of the house. There was an open screened window that looked directly into the kitchen. As she peered through it, Pine had to suddenly duck down.

  Wanda walked into the kitchen looking pale and distraught. There was a phone hanging on the wall directly across from Pine. It had enlarged number keys to help those with vision challenges. Wanda walked over to it. Pine pulled out her phone, turned the video recorder function on, placed it against the screen, and zoomed in on the phone’s numbers.

  Wanda held up a small notebook, squinted at the open page, then put her glasses on and slowly punched in a phone number as she kept referring back to the page. She finished and waited. Pine kept her video recorder on and also listened through the screen. Thankfully, Atkins’s back was to her.

  “It’s me, Wanda,” said Atkins into the phone. “Why am I calling? Well, I’ll tell you why. The FBI was here. Yes, the FBI was here asking questions about Becky. That’s right. Becky. They know all about what you and Joe did. And they’re looking for her and you! They know you’re alive and how you got away that night.”

  At this point Wanda lowered her voice considerably and didn’t do much talking, just nodded her head. Pine put her phone away, retraced her steps, and a minute later climbed back into the Porsche.

  She told Blum what had happened and handed her the phone. “Get the number off there, call up the Bureau, and ask them to find out who that phone is registered to and to get a physical address for it.”

  Blum did so and a few minutes later clicked off. “They’re working on it. They said the area code shows that it’s a western North Carolina number.”

  “Okay, that’s a start. If they can get us Desiree’s current name—I’m sure she’s using an alias—and an address, we can make some progress for sure.”

  “What do you think she can tell us?”

  “What really happened that night, for starters.”

  “But Desiree has every reason to lie. And the statute of limitations for what she did to Mercy has probably expired, as unfair as that is.”

  “But there is no statute of limitations on murder.”

  “Murder? You mean Joe?”

  “Maybe not just Joe. There was a gunshot on the video we listened to the night that Mercy escaped from her prison. Joe didn’t have a gunshot wound.”

  “So you think…?”

  “I have to think of every possibility, including that Mercy might have been killed that night, too, and that’s why Desiree fled. Everything we’ve learned about the woman points to her being a sociopath.”

  “I…I guess that is possible.”

  “But it’s only a possibility. And that doesn’t make it true.”

  As Pine put the SUV in gear and they drove off, her phone buzzed. It was Jack Lineberry calling.

  “Jack?”

  “Atlee, something has happened.” He sounded frantic.

  “What?”

  “Oh my God,” he exclaimed.

  “Look, just take a few deep breaths and calm down.”

  He ignored her advice and she forgot about it as soon as he spoke. “The police were just here.”

  “What police?”

  “The Georgia State Police and a detective from Virginia.”

  “Virginia? What did they want?”

  “The body in your father’s grave was positively identified as Ito Vincenzo.”

  “Okay, no surprises there.”

  “Yes, but now they know that I lied about identifying the body as Tim Pine, Atlee. I think they’re going to arrest me for obstructing justice in a homicide investigation.”

  “Homicide investigation? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “When I told them that Tim had called me and told me what happened, they asked did I have any proof that he actually killed Vincenzo in self-defense. They asked how I could be sure that Tim didn’t murder him.”

  “And what did you tell them?”

  “What could I tell them? I didn’t have any proof. I just knew what Tim told me. And the fact that he disappeared and Vincenzo was buried in his place? I can tell you that the police are highly suspicious of that. They said something about him now being a fugitive.”

  “Do they know the whole story about my parents and the mob bosses? That would make them understand why Vincenzo would want to kill Tim.”