Callum had called ahead, and they were quickly led to Desiree Atkins’s cell by one of the guards. As the door opened and then clanged shut behind them, Atkins never once looked up. She was sitting in the one chair in the room that was bolted to the floor, and was dressed in prison duds.
She was staring at her hands like they contained all of her problems and none of the solutions. She had a bandage taped over her cheek, and the skin around her eye was now yellow and purple.
Pine leaned against the upper bunk while Blum stood near the door. The jailer had moved away to give them as much privacy as one could expect in a place such as this.
“What the hell do you two want?” asked Atkins, glancing up. “Come to gloat?”
“We came for a chat,” replied Pine.
“Go screw yourself. And I’m suing your ass for assault. I might have brain trauma.”
“Yeah, you definitely have something off in your head, but it had nothing to do with me. And you have the time to talk since you won’t be leaving here anytime soon. No bail because you’re a flight risk,” said Pine. “And they know all about Georgia.”
Atkins’ eyes glittered with hatred. “Good. And I can tell them how Becky killed my husband. They need to put her in prison for murder.”
“You can try, but your imprisoning her for all those years will mean whatever you say will not pass the smell test,” said Pine. “Even if she killed Joe, she had every right to. He was just going to lock her up again. Enslaved people have an absolute right to do whatever it takes to get free. We actually fought a civil war over that.”
“What do you care about Becky? It’s been, what, almost twenty years? Give it a rest.”
Pine curled her long fingers around the bunk support post primarily so she couldn’t form a fist with them and have another go at the woman.
Blum noted this, stepped forward, and said, “Why did you do it, Desiree? Why did you treat Mercy the way you did?”
Atkins snarled, “What exactly did I do? I’ll tell you! I took the kid in when no one else wanted her. This guy plopped her in Wanda’s lap. Like she could take care of a six-year-old? Give me a break. She smoked so many packs of cigarettes a day she got winded going for the mail. The kid would’ve died but for me. I should be getting a medal, not a prison sentence.”
Pine said, “You abused her. You tortured her. You locked her in a hole in the wall in the woods. You call that doing her a favor?”
Atkins turned pink with indignation. “She was wild. She was uncontrollable. We had to lock her up. If you had only seen her back then.”
“So she wouldn’t escape, you mean?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything else.”
“But if you do, I can put in a good word for you.”
“Right, shave two years off whatever I’m going to get? No thanks.”
“Did she ever mention her family?” persisted Pine. “Did she ever tell you what happened to her? What her real name was? Did you ever even ask?”
Atkins waved all this off. “I had my own problems!”
“You can tell us nothing?”
“I can tell you plenty. I choose not to. That’s my right! And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it, bitch.”
“Wanda told us you tried, but could never have kids of your own,” said Blum.
Atkins shot her a cruel look. “What’s your role here, granny, to be the good cop? Guilt me into saying something? Don’t waste your time, hag.”
“I mean, you must have wanted children. You took Mercy in, like you said,” Blum added, while Pine watched her with a curious expression.