“That’s you and your husband. And this is a woman that you called Rebecca Atkins. But her real name is Mercy. She was kidnapped by a man named Ito Vincenzo from her home in Andersonville, Georgia, and brought to live with you. We know that Ito and your husband served in Vietnam together, and Len saved Ito’s life. So that’s why he brought her to you, I suppose. I’m not sure, but he might have been under the mistaken impression that your husband could never father a child because of the wounds he suffered, not knowing that you already had a son. But at that point in your life I suppose you didn’t want to care for a six-year-old, so you turned her over to Joe and Desiree.”
Atkins’s eyes filled with tears and she put a hand over her mouth and started to cough uncontrollably. Blum rose and hurried into the kitchen, and Pine could hear water running. Then Blum came out with a full glass of water and handed it to Atkins. The woman drank it down and composed herself, taking long breaths, greedily sucking on the supplemental oxygen provided by the cannula.
Pine put the photo away and looked expectantly at the woman. Now that she was finally facing a key person in her sister’s life after the abduction, she was not leaving without making significant progress in her search.
Atkins pulled out a Kleenex from her pants pocket and rubbed her eyes and nose, shifting the cannula to the side to do so.
“Didn’t realize how chunky I was back then,” she said. “I’ve lost quite a bit of weight since that picture was taken, but Len is just as bald as ever.” When she saw Pine staring stonily at her she hurried on. “You’re right. Len knew Ito and did save his life. But we had Joe before Len went to Vietnam. And Ito and Len kept in touch over the years. He knew about our having Joe.”
“Then maybe he came to you because you were the only ones he knew who lived close to Andersonville. But I’m more interested in what took place when Ito brought Mercy to you.”
“He showed up in the middle of the night, pounding on the door, waking us up. Scared the hell out of me. I remember it so clearly. Ito was really shaken up, nervous as hell, almost out of his mind with panic.”
“Where did he say he got Mercy?”
“He said Becky, or Mercy, had been abandoned. That she didn’t have anybody.”
“And did he say how he came to have her?”
“He said he found her on the side of the road, just walking along.”
“And she didn’t tell you otherwise? She was six. She could talk. She knew things. She didn’t tell you that her name was Mercy and that Ito had taken her away from her family?”
“Not that I recall, no,” said Atkins, not meeting her eye. “She was very quiet, didn’t say nothing. I tried to get her to eat or drink something but she wouldn’t. She seemed terrified.”
Pine sat back. “And later you didn’t see all the news coverage and flyers and everything with Mercy’s picture on them? You lived barely two hours from where she was taken. The state of Georgia was saturated with news about her abduction.”
Atkins glanced anxiously at her husband. “I . . . I don’t . . . It was such a long time ago and all. And there wasn’t anything about it when Ito showed up with her.”
“Because no one knew she had been abducted at that point. But now comes the big question. Why didn’t Ito, or you, take Mercy to the police? When you find an abandoned child, that’s what you do, right?”
Atkins looked extremely nervous now. “I . . . I asked Ito that. I said, well, we need to call in the authorities, they’ll know what to do.”
“And how did he respond to that?” asked Blum.
Atkins twisted her hands in her lap and sucked heavily on her oxygen. “At first, he . . . he said that he had been in foster care growing up and that it would be a nightmare. He said the authorities would do that to her. And she might be abused and heaven knew what else.”