Long Road to Mercy

by David Baldacci

  She gave him her address and put on shorts and a T-shirt. She kept watch out her window, and when she saw him drive in, she went downstairs without bothering to put shoes on. That turned out to have been a bad choice, since she had to hop across the asphalt because of the day’s heat retained there.

  They sat in his open Jeep and cracked open two cold beers. The temperature was still around eighty at nearly eleven p.m.

  “Damn, that is good,” she said, draining about half of her bottle.

  He grinned and stared out the windshield. “Simple things in life, right?” Then he looked at her and frowned. “What happened there?”

  He was pointing to the side of her face, near her temple, where her hair had fallen away when she turned.

  She touched the Band-Aid there. “Just me being clumsy.”

  “You don’t strike me as the clumsy type.”

  “Yeah, well, you might be surprised. But, really, it’s nothing, Sam.”

  He nodded and fidgeted.

  She noted this and said, “What?”

  His gaze on the steering wheel, he said, “There’s a . . . a concert tomorrow night in Phoenix. I switched to the day shift for it. It’s Santana. You interested?”

  He looked over at her.

  Pine felt very uncomfortable. “Um, thanks for the invitation. But I can’t make it. I’m sorry.”

  He quickly looked away. “Hey, no sweat. Short notice. Don’t know what I was thinking.” He chuckled. “Always wanted to play guitar like Carlos. Me and a million other guys. Only problem is I can’t even hum without being off-key.”

  “Rain check?”

  “Sure, you bet.”

  They were both silent for a few moments, staring off through the windshield.

  Pine was feeling awkward and off-kilter. Part of her was thinking about the man next to her. And the other half was going through all the details of her upcoming journey.

  For his part, Kettler seemed to have withdrawn into a shell after she had turned down his invitation.

  Pine cleared her throat and said, “So, what made you come to work at the Grand Canyon?”

  He perked up at the question. “Hell, it’s a fascinating place. It’s not just the geological formations and the terrain and the hiking and all that. It’s got this unbelievable history. So much started right here.”

  “Like what?”

  “Ever heard of Maasaw?”

  “No.”

  “He’s the Hopi god of death. He’s said to actually live in the Canyon. And you have the ancestral Puebloan granaries at Nankoweap Creek. And Eagle Rock at Eagle Point on the West Rim. It’s considered sacred by the Hualapai. And some in the Hopi tribe believe the Canyon is the site of the sipapu, the portal through which they climbed a reed cast into the sky and used it to reach the Fourth World.”

  “You believe all that?” asked Pine, hiking her eyebrows.

  He looked sheepish. “Well, I’d like to believe some of it. For me, the Canyon isn’t just a tourist destination. It’s a living, breathing place. It has a dozen plants that live nowhere else. And the place is constantly evolving. The algae in the river brought in crustaceans, which brought in trout, which brought in the bald eagle. It’s one of the only bird species that uses the river corridor as its winter habitat.” Kettler tapped his temple. “You see, it’s smart. It’s a living thing. How cool is that?”

  Pine smiled. “The way you explained it, pretty cool, actually. I’m seeing another side of you, Mr. Kettler.”

  “I keep a go pack at work. Sometimes when I’m off duty I go hiking or running. Or even do some climbing.”

  “Climbing?”

  “Yeah, I was an Army Ranger. To qualify for that status, you had to do a lot of mountain climbing. You do that down in Georgia. It’s sort of a hobby of mine now. I keep climbing ropes and D-links and other equipment in my go pack. And I’ve climbed mountains all over.” He glanced at her. “You might like it.”

  “I might. With the right company.” She smiled and punched him lightly on the arm.

  Kettler’s brow furrowed.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Look, full disclosure. There was another reason I came over tonight.”

  Pine sat up straighter. “What?”

  “Colson Lambert and Harry Rice?”

  “What about them?”

  “They’ve been reassigned.”

  “What! Where?”

  “Zion National Park in Utah. Effective immediately. Pretty damn inconvenient, since both of them have families with kids in the local schools. Harry and Colson are going up and leaving their families behind until things can get straightened out.” He glanced at her. “I take it from your reaction that you didn’t know.”

  “I had no idea at all.”

  “Does this have something to do with the mule? I mean, how could it? But that’s the only thing out of the ordinary. I mean . . . ” His voice trailed off.

  “It might, Sam. It probably does, in fact.”

  “Okay. I guess you can’t tell me about it?”

  “No, I really can’t.”

  “Good enough for me. But I thought you needed to know about Lambert and Rice.”

  “I did, and I appreciate the heads-up. I really do.”

  They remained silent until Pine said, “If you ever want to talk about stuff . . .”

  “Like what?”

  “Your time in the Army?”

  “Well, I’m not in the Army anymore. That’s in my past. I want to look ahead.”

  Pine thought about her own personal situation. “Sometimes you can’t move ahead until you deal with stuff in your past.”

  “That’s true, I guess. But I was a soldier, just like a lot of guys. I’m good. I really am. No problems.”

  “Okay.”

  They said their good-byes, which included a hug that lasted a bit longer than the one at Tony’s Pizza.

  Pine could feel the strength of Kettler’s fingers as they gently sank into her skin through the flimsy fabric of her T-shirt. She fully took in his scent, sweat mingling with soap and shampoo. She felt herself a little light-headed. But then what she was going to do the next day came crashing down on her like a chunk of concrete.

  She pulled back and then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “Thanks for the beer. And the Santana invite. It meant a lot.”

  “Anytime,” he replied, his hand grazing her bare arm. “Look forward to hanging out some more.”

  She headed back to her apartment, having once more to hop on the asphalt until she got to the cooler pavement. She turned around to find Kettler grinning at her.

  She looked down at her bare feet. “I know, goofy, right?”

  “Nothing wrong with goofy from where I’m standing. Looks pretty damn beautiful, in fact.”

  Two minutes later, after she had watched Kettler drive off in his Jeep, Pine collapsed on her bed.

  Pretty damn beautiful, huh?

  She kept catching herself smiling as she relived the time spent with Kettler. But then the reality of what lay ahead took over, and her smile faded.

  What were the odds that she would finally find someone she enjoyed being with, only to have her job pop up between them like, well, like the Grand Canyon?

  And that’s what you signed up for, Atlee, when you put on the badge.

  She got up the next morning at seven a.m., picked up the phone, and called Carol Blum.

  “I’ll meet you at the office in an hour.”

  “I’ll be there. You’re right—before you start your vacation, we might as well take some time to get all your old case files in order.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to hike and camp at Mount Nebo in Utah. Need to clear my head. I’ve got all my stuff. I’m leaving from the office to drive there. Be gone a couple weeks. Flagstaff is covering for me. I’ve fixed it all up. The office is officially closed while I’m out. So you’re getting some time off, too.”<
br />
  “Well, then I’m going to see my daughter in Los Angeles. I’ve got a new grandbaby I haven’t spoiled yet.”

  Pine put on her sunglasses, drove to her office, parked in the underground garage, and took the stairs to the elevator.

  Blum was there ahead of her. With coffee.

  At eight that night, the garage door went up and Pine’s black SUV pulled out, turned right, and headed to the highway north. Blum’s Prius was right behind her. It drove off in the opposite direction.

  Two SUVs started up. One followed Pine’s truck, and the other tailed Blum’s Prius.

  At midnight, the garage door opened once more.

  The 1967 Mustang drove out, its top and windows up.

  Pine was at the wheel. Blum rode shotgun. Pine was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved cotton shirt, and a windbreaker. Blum had changed from her skirt, jacket, and pumps into slacks, flats, and a light blue sweater.

  They’d each drawn a bunch of cash out of their bank accounts, because credit and debit cards would not be an option now.

  Another car was back in the garage with the custom cover for the Mustang over it.

  Pine turned left and headed to State Route 89, taking it south.

  The pair had “officially” just gone rogue.

  CHAPTER

  25

  You’re sure they can’t trace the car?” asked Blum as they got on Interstate 40 heading east.

  “I brought it here in the middle of the night when I moved to Shattered Rock. I put it in the office garage and I only drive it at night, and even then it’s been a handful of times since I’ve been here. That’s why I kept the trickle charger on it, otherwise the battery would be dead.”

  “But they could trace the tags.”

  “If they do, it won’t come back showing me as the owner, because I never had it retitled in my name.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the man who owned it should still own it, except he happened to die. As far as the law is concerned, he still owns it.”

  “How long will it take us?”

  “It’s about twenty-two hundred miles. Thirty-three hours if we don’t stop.”

  “I’m no spring chicken. We have to stop or else you’ll need to reupholster.”

  “My bladder’s not that big, either. But it’s Interstate 40 pretty much the whole way, and west of the Mississippi we can really fly. I figure two days. That is, if you drive, too.”

  “That’s ambitious. But I’m game. Talking about flying, I suppose a plane was out of the question?”

  “Credit cards, IDs. In the system. Yep, out of the question. That’s why we shouldn’t use anything other than cash. I have a debit card for emergencies, but it’s tied to a friend’s account, not mine. I’ll just pay my friend back if I have to use it. And to the extent we can, we don’t use our real names. Anything like that can trip us up. And we never unpack our stuff in case we have to leave some place in a hurry.”

  “Understood. Where is your friend taking my Prius?”

  “Far enough so that anyone trailing you will believe you’re going to LA. Don’t worry, he’ll take good care of it.”

  “And your truck?”

  “I picked Mount Nebo for a reason. My friend who drove out in it is actually going to hike and camp there for the next two weeks. I doubt whoever’s following her will stick for the whole trip once they see where she’s going.”

  “And your phone?”

  “In the truck. In case they’re tracking it, I’m in Utah for the foreseeable future. I put yours in the Prius. I have a bunch of burner phones for us to use. They’re in my bag behind your seat. And I loaded my contact list on each one, along with the digital sketch of the fake Ben Priest.”

  “Can’t they trace the purchase of burner phones and then track the SIM card?”

  “They could if I had bought them. I didn’t. Someone did it for me, as a favor. And this was about six months ago.”

  “Before you even knew we would be doing this?”

  “I like to prepare for pretty much anything, and being able to go off grid at any time but still communicate is a necessity.” Pine glanced over at her companion. “We need to be on our A game, okay? We’re playing in the big leagues.”

  “I knew that as soon as I joined the FBI.” Blum checked her watch. “It’s nearly one in the morning. Are you good to drive?”

  “I slept on the floor in my office for eight hours. I’m good until at least Oklahoma City.”

  “Isn’t that far away?”

  “About thirteen hours pedal to the metal. We can stop for a late lunch.”

  “I’m impressed with your stamina.”

  “I drove from the East Coast in this car to Utah in two and a half days. I only stopped to use the bathroom, catnap in parking lots, and I ate on the road.” Pine patted the car’s dash. “There’s just something about this ride. You want to keep driving.”

  As they drove along Pine said, “You don’t believe that this Jordan and Kinkaid found a secret cave in the Canyon full of Egyptian artifacts?”

  “No.”

  “Did your father?”

  Blum took her time answering. “I think my father wanted to believe it. He went down there enough times looking for it. Never found it, of course.”

  “Even with a helpful j and k carved over the front door?”

  Blum smiled. “My father spent his whole life working a job he hated. What he really wanted to be was an adventurer, you know, sort of like Indiana Jones.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “No, neither of my parents are. How about you?”

  “My mother’s still around.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “You better get some sleep so you’re ready to take over when I’m burned out.”

  Pine drove on.

  They ate barbeque for lunch in Oklahoma City. Then Blum, who had slept most of the way and was perfectly fresh, took over the wheel, while Pine put the passenger seat back as far as it would go, stretched out her long legs, and immediately fell asleep.

  Blum drove with only brief stops to use the restroom and to stretch her legs, and once to doze in a parking lot for an hour. As they neared Nashville, she pulled off at another rest stop and nudged Pine awake.

  “Bathroom break,” said Blum. “And tag you’re it on the driving. I’m beat.”

  Pine nodded. It was pitch-black now, though the crack of dawn was only a few hours away. The rest area only had one operating light, and it was a feeble one at that. At this hour, there were no other vehicles here.

  Pine yawned, stretched, and popped her neck as she followed Blum into the ladies’ room.

  As soon as the door closed behind them it was pushed open again.

  Three men came in.

  They were all tall and lean and good-looking and appeared to be in their very early twenties. They were all fashionably dressed in clothes that were expensive but made to look like they weren’t. Two wore khaki shorts, revealing tanned, muscular legs, and colorful Robert Graham short-sleeved shirts and docksiders. The third wore soft, baggy, faded jeans, a white long-sleeved shirt untucked, and Gucci loafers.

  One of them crumpled up a beer and threw it into an empty stall. Then they stood there staring at the two women.

  Blum turned around and eyed them. “You have the wrong restroom. Men’s is the other door.”

  The man in the jeans stepped forward. He glanced at his friends and grinned, flashing perfect white teeth. “No, this is definitely the place we want because you’re here.”

  “You have got to be shitting me,” said an incredulous Pine. “Did you guys just come from a frat party, or what?”

  The man smiled at her and produced a bottle of Maker’s Mark from his back pocket. “Operative word being party, ladies.”

  Blum eyed Pine, who was gazing at the half-empty bottle. “That is not happening,” Blum said to him.

  “Come on, we’ve been looking for someone just like you two,” said the man.
“Mature women, what could be better? And trust me, you’ll like what you’re going to get.”

  He unscrewed the cap on the Maker’s and took a swig before passing it to his friends, who each took a drink.

  Pine studied each of them. “Is this really the only way you can get laid?”

  “Hell, we can have anyone we want. I can lay on the charm like nobody’s business. And my family’s rich.” He hooked a finger at his two companions. “These guys too.”

  “So why lie in wait outside a ladies’ bathroom waiting for a target?”

  The man grinned. “Because we can and we want to.”

  “Not with us, you can’t,” retorted Blum.

  The man’s grin slowly faded. “I don’t think you have much choice.”

  Pine said, “Then I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

  The man pulled a small knife from his pocket and opened it.

  “I don’t like to do it this way, but whatever works. Now, you just do what we say and nobody gets hurt.”

  “Oh, somebody’s definitely going to get hurt,” replied Pine.

  She marched forward and disarmed the man by breaking his wrist. When he howled in pain and doubled over, she grabbed the back of his neck, jerked him downward, and knocked out his two perfect front teeth with a vicious uppercut delivered with her knee. Then, using his bulk against him, Pine flipped him into the mirrored wall over the sinks, shattering it. He fell onto the porcelain, caught his face on a faucet, rolled off, and hit the floor. He lay there bloody and stunned, groaning in pain.

  “Hey, hey!” yelled one of the other men. He launched himself at Pine before reeling backward after Pine planted the bottom of her boot into his throat. He slammed against the wall and fell to his butt, gagging for breath.

  She walked over and finished him off by bouncing his head off the tiled wall with a forearm strike. He slumped to the floor unconscious.

  The last man snarled, “You’re dead, bitch. I’ve got a black belt.”

  He stopped snarling and leapt back when Pine pulled out her gun and pointed it at him.

  With her other hand, she took out her FBI shield. “And I’ve got this, Mister Moron.”

  “Aw, shit!” exclaimed the man. “Son of a bitch!”

  “Get on the floor facedown,” ordered Pine. “Do it!”