“Yes. Anyway, the Atkinses kept her prisoner, but she escaped nearly twenty years ago. We tracked Desiree down in Asheville, and I busted her for imprisoning another young girl. And I also got her to confess to killing her husband, Joe.”
“Confess?”
Pine took out her phone and played the recording.
“Is it admissible?” asked McAllister.
“I hope so,” said Pine. “Because it clears my sister of any wrong-doing, although in my book she had every reason to harm them—they were trying to keep her imprisoned.”
“Well, I think most courts and juries would agree with that. And do you know where your sister is?”
Pine drew a long breath. “The truth is she’s upstairs in my room. She was the tall woman you saw in the hoodie getting into the car with Carol. She’s the one I’ve been looking for.”
She glanced up to see McAllister’s and Bertrand’s reactions to this.
Bertrand looked surprised, McAllister did not.
“Two tall women, same build, and both seen with Blum. It doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes. Your sister goes by Eloise Cain now?”
“Yes. She came here to confront Desiree, which she’s done. But a lawyer from New York came down to rep Desiree—only someone else employed him. I think that person is the one who snatched me. Carol and my sister followed the lawyer to a house, where my sister saw the man talking to the lawyer. But then they took off. Maybe they suspected they were being followed, I don’t know. My sister had gotten into the house for a closer look and to see if I was in there. When the people abruptly left, she ran back to where the car had been, but Carol and the car were gone.”
“And you don’t think Carol followed them?”
“She would have left a message. She didn’t. And all my messages I sent to her a short while ago have gone unanswered. So I think they got to her.”
McAllister sat back and glanced at Bertrand, then said to Pine, “And this man—the ringleader, let’s call him—he said he was after El Cain, your sister, because she had killed his brother? What does she say to that?”
“She has no idea what he’s talking about. She’s killed no one.”
“And you believe her?”
“Yes.”
“And you found her when?”
Pine took another long breath. “About twenty minutes ago.”
“After not seeing her for thirty years? And you think you know her well enough to figure out if she’s telling the truth or not about killing someone? And would she really confess that crime to an FBI agent, sister or not?”
Pine’s professional side knew what answer to give: Of course she didn’t know her sister well enough. But her human side provided the answer. “I believe she’s telling the truth. And the man said his brother deserved it, so it sounds to me like whether she did something or not, he might have provoked her.”
“Did you ask her about anything recent in her past that might have prompted such action against her? I mean, whoever wants a piece of her has kidnapped an FBI agent, gotten a hotshot lawyer from New York, and abducted another FBI employee. There must be a significant motive behind it.”
“I haven’t gone that deep with her yet.”
“While technically this is not my case, I think someone should.”
“I’ll do it.”
Bertrand interjected, “Do you really think you’re objective enough to do that, Agent Pine? Under Bureau rules—”
“I know everything about Bureau rules,” she snapped, and then immediately calmed. She took another drink of coffee to give herself time to formulate a more effective response. She looked into the liquid as though it might hold a way out of her current dilemma.