Mercy (Atlee Pine #4)(4)

“Which means we need to find Len and Wanda Atkins and ask them that directly.”

“If they’re still alive.”

“If they are, they would be getting Social Security and Medicare. We could find them that way.”

“And he was a Vietnam vet. He was wounded. So . . .”

Pine picked up this thought thread. “That means he might be in contact with the VA for meds and treatments and the like. That would actually be faster for us than going through the HHS bureaucracy, because I don’t really have good contacts there.”

She pulled out her phone.

“Who are you calling?” asked Blum.

“Who else? John Puller. He already helped me get Len Atkins’s military records.”

She spoke with Puller, who told her he was recovering quickly from his injuries. He also said he knew several people at the VA because of his father being in one of their facilities, and he would do all he could to help her locate Len Atkins.

She thanked him and clicked off. “Okay, we’ll let him work his magic.”

“While he’s doing that, do you think you should go and visit Jack Lineberry?”

Pine’s expression hardened and she glanced out the car window. Lineberry’s image swelled up in her head like a nightmare. “You asked me that before.”

“And you never answered me, which is why I’m asking again.”

“Why should I go see him?” asked Pine, her tone heated.

“Like it or not, he is your biological father. And the way you left it with him?”

“Look, I’m not proud of what I did.”

“And now it’s time to move on to another level with him.”

Pine glanced sharply at her friend. “And why do I have to do that?”

“Because you’re going to need his help, whether you find your sister or not.”

Pine looked even more confused. “Come again?”

“I presume you still want to find your mother. And Tim Pine, now that you almost certainly know he wasn’t in that grave. And Jack can be a valuable asset in helping you do that. However, I’m not asking you to cut him any slack.”

“Good, because I don’t intend to,” interjected Pine.

“But,” continued Blum imperturbably, “I think he is trying his best to do the right thing. And he is your father. And if you don’t at least make an effort to have a relationship with him, I think you’re going to regret it later.”

“I regret a lot of things, Carol,” said Pine. But she put the car in gear and headed on to see the man who had lied to her more than any other person in her life.

Except for my damn mother.





CHAPTER





4


JACK LINEBERRY’S ESTATE WAS AN hour south of Atlanta. He had made an enormous fortune in the financial world and owned, in addition to this main residence, a penthouse in Atlanta and a pied-à-terre in New York, as well as a private jet. It was a lifestyle that most people would be thrilled to enjoy. Pine was not among them.

If you need that many toys to enjoy life, then you’re still a child.

They had already called ahead and arranged to meet with him. They checked in at the front gate, were admitted into the house, and escorted to Lineberry by one of the maids. He was still in bed, the woman told them—which alarmed Pine, because it was well into the afternoon.

They entered the room and the maid left. The space was dark and overly warm, with all the window shades lowered. It was like a tomb with wallpaper and carpet, and living people. The effect unnerved Pine.

“Jack?” said Pine.

Something stirred on the bed. A pajama-clad Lineberry struggled to sit up, and finally managed to do so. Pine and Blum drew nearer and looked down at him. Their features betrayed their alarm at the state of the man. He looked like he had aged two decades since the last time they had seen him. A tall, handsome man in his sixties, he looked shrunken, withered, fragile, and, most tellingly, done with life.

Blum said, “Jack . . . what happened?”

He focused on her with a pair of weary, bloodshot eyes, his brow crinkling in annoyance approaching anger. “Nothing . . . happened. I’m . . . doing okay.”

“You don’t look okay,” Pine said bluntly. “You don’t look okay at all.”

“That’s your opinion,” he replied testily.

“That would be any reasonable person’s opinion,” countered Pine.

“I was shot, Atlee. It’s not like I have a case of the flu. Nobody just pops back from that. Particularly not someone my age.”

“I realize that,” she began before glancing at Blum. “And I know I was mad beyond all reason after my last visit here.”

“You had every right to be as angry as you were. I feel like I got off easy, actually.”

“Don’t go all chivalrous and make this harder than it has to be,” she said in a lighter tone.

He held up his hand before she could go on. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Atlee. At this time in my life it’s imperative to do so.”

“Thinking about what?” she said sharply, not liking his fatalistic tone.

“About you, about Mercy, about your mother and Tim. And, finally, about me.”