Buckley read the last paragraph and then glanced sharply at her. “Mercy Pine. Kidnapped from Andersonville, Georgia, and never seen again. Mercy Pine! They’re sisters?”
“More than that. They’re identical twins. So your men could be forgiven in confusing the two. And that would explain why she’s working this case. And that also explains my Bureau contacts’ not wanting to answer that question. It was probably only a need-to-know about what she was doing.”
This explained a lot, thought Buckley. And it also started a kernel of an idea in his mind that was rapidly formulating into a strategy that would coincide nicely with what he had decided this whole thing really meant to him. But with Pine’s having escaped it complicated things. Still, there was always a solution to every problem.
While he was thinking about this, Spector left her phone with Buckley and rejoined Marbury, who was still staring curiously at his employer.
Spector said, “You were talking about Cain’s shaved head?”
Marbury finally drew his gaze from Buckley. “Yes, Atkins told me about that, but as it turned out, I saw it for myself. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, because I hadn’t yet met with Atkins. But I passed Blum and Cain in the hall on my way to see Atkins. They had apparently just finished speaking with her before I got there.”
Buckley heard this and looked up from the phone, leaving thoughts of his developing strategy behind for now. His gaze shifted first to Spector and then to Marbury. He said to the attorney, “Do you mean they left the building before you did?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
“Where were your car and driver parked?”
“Right in front,” replied Marbury. “It was the most convenient spot for me. Very close to the front door. I have a gimpy knee.”
Spector said to Buckley, “To do any deal they would have to get a sign-off from the local police. Blum and Cain could have gone to speak with them after they left Atkins.”
“At which time the local police would tell them that they could do nothing about any such deal at the moment because . . . ” He looked at Marbury.
Marbury got the point like a knife between his ribs. “Because she was now, apparently, represented by counsel. By me.”
Spector flitted to the window, but kept out of sight.
Buckley didn’t even look at her because he knew exactly what she was thinking. He said sharply, “Marbury, would you even know if you had been followed here?”
The lawyer looked astonished. “Followed? I . . . I . . . that didn’t occur to me.”
“Of course it didn’t,” Spector interjected derisively. She took out a small but powerful optical device from her jacket pocket and surveyed both the street and the area beyond on the other side street. She saw nothing until she reached the church. There were a number of cars there. She was about to look along the street the other way when she adjusted the device and was able to make out something interesting. “There’s a red Porsche SUV parked in the church lot down the street. It has Georgia plates.” She adjusted the lens again, increasing the clarity. “And that might very well be our Ms. Blum at the wheel.”
Buckley joined her at the window. “Any sign of Cain?”
“No, but she might have left Blum to do some closer surveillance.” She looked across the room. “In fact, she might already be in this house.”
Marbury looked at them with a stricken expression. “Are we in danger or what?”
Spector drew a gun from her shoulder holster. “Peter, I can check the house. If she is in here, our task just got a lot easier.”
Marbury looked alarmed by this comment, but was smart enough to remain silent.
Buckley took the optical device and Spector told him where to aim it. He looked through the lens at the Porsche. In spite of it all, he smiled. His adrenaline had spiked, and with the blood rush came the thrill he’d been missing for too many years now, after having felt it every day of his life for a very long time. And best of all, the possible strategy, in the flash of creative brilliance, had turned into a definite resolution. The only one that mattered now.