Long Road to Mercy

by David Baldacci

  As the woman turned and walked down the street, carefully navigating the lumpy laid brick pavers in her stilettos as she checked her phone, Pine got out of the Kia and strode down the street, paralleling the woman. She timed it so that they would intersect at the next block.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” said Pine.

  The woman, jolted from her digital bubble, looked askance at Pine in her jeans and windbreaker and boots.

  “Whatever you’re selling I don’t need,” she said immediately, in a deep, well-cultured voice.

  “It’s not that.”

  “And I don’t have any cash if you need a handout. Bye-bye.”

  The woman proceeded on her way. Pine followed.

  The woman stopped and held up her phone, which had a gold cover. “I will call the police if you don’t leave me alone.”

  “I am the police,” said Pine, holding up her FBI shield.

  The woman slowly lowered her phone. “You’re with the FBI? No way.”

  “I really am.”

  The woman ran her severe gaze over Pine and said, “You don’t look like you are.”

  “That’s sort of the point when you’re on a stakeout.”

  “You’re watching someone?” The woman looked horrified and then blurted out, “What’s Jeffrey done?”

  “Jeffrey?”

  “My husband. He’s a money manager. They’re always doing something illegal. He’s my second husband,” she added, as though that exonerated her from any associated liability she might have. A hand fluttered to her bosom. “Thank God I kept my assets separate. The little sneak.”

  “I’m not here about Jeffrey. I’m here about your neighbor.”

  “My neighbor? Which one?”

  “Ben Priest.”

  The woman gazed at Pine in a new light and then gave her a knowing look. “He’s an interesting fellow, that one.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Melanie Renfro.”

  “Have you lived in your house a long time?”

  “Yes. Twenty years. Jeffrey moved in with me after we got married. He lived in DC. Capitol Hill. You couldn’t pay me to live there. Taxes are twice Virginia’s. It was either he moved here or there wasn’t going to be a marriage.”

  “You want to grab some coffee?”

  “That’s where I was going, actually.”

  Pine followed Renfro into a coffee shop on King Street, the main avenue that bisected Old Town and ended at the Potomac River. They ordered, got their coffees, and headed back outside to sit in an enclosed area of tables. They were the only ones there, though people were passing them on the street. Mostly moms with strollers and some men and women in suits and carrying briefcases.

  Renfro took a sip of her coffee and patted her lips with a paper napkin. “What has Ben done?”

  “You said he was an interesting fellow?”

  Renfro nodded and looked around as though they were in a movie and she was checking on eavesdroppers. When she caught Pine staring, she grinned and said, “This is so thrilling. The most exciting part of my day today was supposed to be a hair coloring and a waxing. This is so much better. And far less painful than a waxing.”

  “Glad I could do that for you. So, Priest?”

  “Right. He moved in about, oh, seven years ago. I was still married to Parker, he was my first husband. He died of a heart attack four years ago. I married Jeffrey two years later. Some of my friends thought it was too soon. But at my age, hey, you don’t know how much time you have left. Burn the candle to the end, right?”

  “Right. So you knew Priest?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve had him over for dinners, cocktail parties, barbeques, that sort of thing. I have a wonderful caterer, if you ever need someone.”

  “What was your impression of him?”

  “Oh, that he’d been everywhere, done everything. Could talk eloquently about any number of subjects. He knew several languages. And he was tall and very handsome. I used to invite him because I knew he would be fascinating for the other guests and eye candy for some of my girlfriends. He would flirt with them, nothing serious, but they loved it. He seemed to know how to play a role, work a room.”

  “Did he tell you what he did for a living?”

  “He told me he’d taught over in England, Cambridge or Oxford, anyway, one of them. Then he’d made money in investments and traveled the world. I thought he was independently wealthy. He kept odd hours. Gone for long periods of time and then I’d see a cab dropping him off at two in the morning.”

  “He never mentioned working for the government?”

  “Look, if you are with the FBI, I want to help you. But, I really don’t know you at all. And these days fake badges and stuff can look really genuine.”

  “Okay, I understand that. I’m looking for Ben Priest because he disappeared when he was in Arizona. That’s where I’m assigned.”

  “Oh my God. Do you have any idea what happened to him?”

  Pine pulled back her hair to reveal the wound she’d suffered when the Explorer had hit the tree.

  “I was with him when he was abducted. I was almost killed, too. I don’t like it when people abduct other people. I like it even less when people try to kill me.”

  The blood drained from Renfro’s face. “Oh my God, you poor thing.”

  “So any help you can give me would be much appreciated.”

  “Absolutely. With Ben my thought was, is he some sort of spy? I mean he’s obviously brilliant and knows all these languages. And he looks sort of like James Bond, right? I’ve seen him in a tux. God, if I were twenty years younger, I might make a run at him. Hell, ten years younger. Jeffery’s brilliant and makes a ton of money, but he’s the spitting image of Don Rickles.”

  “Okay. Did he ever invite you to his place?”

  Renfro looked puzzled. “Now that you mention it, no. Wait, I take that back. I’ve had drinks in his backyard.”

  “But never in the house?”

  “No. I guess I never thought about that. I mean, he was a guy. And I always liked to do the parties at my place. And maybe his house was a mess. He was a bachelor, after all.” She paused. “He was, wasn’t he? I never saw any women over there. Wait, is he gay? That would really depress four of my girlfriends. And me too, quite frankly.”

  “Not that we know of. Anything he ever said that struck you as odd?”

  Renfro drank her coffee and mulled over this query. “Odd how?”

  “No particular way. Just your impression.”

  “Well, there was something. I was having a dinner party outside. This was not that long ago.”

  “Okay, what happened?”

  “Well, Ben was his charming self, regaling the guests with some story about traveling overseas.”

  “Did you catch where?”

  “Not exactly. Let me think. He said something about inadvertently crossing a border and that he was lucky to get back unscathed.”

  “Go on.”

  “Now I remember. He said one of the Stans. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. Stan who?”

  “One of the Stans. Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan. Used to be part of the Soviet Union. Central Asia.”

  “Oh, right. I guess that does make sense. Hey, what can I say? I went to college to find a husband. Well, he said that the world really was unpredictable and you just never knew what was going to happen. I asked him if he was talking about anything specifically.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘I would have to wait and see.’ ”

  “How did you take that?”

  “Well, then he laughed and drank down his wine, pinched my arm in a playful way, and told me not to listen to him. That he was just kidding around. Too much booze. But the thing was the party hadn’t been going on that long. That was only his second glass.”

  “Did you ever know him to do that before?”

  “No, not really. I mean not in that way. He seemed, well, anxious. I remember catching a glimpse of him just s
taring off into space. He never did that before at my parties. He was always right in the center of things regaling people. It was odd.”

  Pine next took out her phone and showed her the digital sketch that Jennifer Yazzie had done.

  “Have you seen this man around before? With Priest?”

  Renfro studied the picture. “You know, he does looks familiar.”

  “How?”

  Renfro leaned back in her chair and let the sunlight hit her face. “I’m not a good sleeper, never have been. My mother was an insomniac, and I’m convinced I got that from her.” She leaned forward and cupped her hands around her coffee.

  “It was, oh, maybe one in the morning. I was upstairs. I’d just gotten back from the kitchen with a cup of tea. I was looking out the window onto the street. The moon was out and it was really as clear as day. A car pulled down the street and stopped in front of Ben’s house.”

  “What kind of car? A cab?”

  “No. It was a regular car. I guess these days it could have been an Uber or something like that. Anyway, a guy gets out. He goes around to the rear of the car. The driver had popped the trunk. He pulled out his bag. And when he did that, he sort of reflexively gazed up, and I got a real good look at him.” She tapped Pine’s phone. “And he looked a lot like that guy.”

  “Did he go into Priest’s home?”

  “The door opened. Someone was there. The man passed through and the door closed.”

  “You think it was Priest?”

  “I couldn’t see the person, really. But who else would it have been?”

  “Did you ever see the man again?”

  “No.”

  “And when was this?”

  “I can tell you exactly, because Jeffery was gone on a business trip. It was ten days ago.”

  The woman glanced up at Pine, who was staring off.

  “Does that help you?” asked Renfro.

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “If he is a spy, maybe, I don’t know, our enemies have him,” she said breathlessly.

  Or we might have him, thought Pine.

  CHAPTER

  28

  Carol Blum adjusted the mirror on Pine’s Mustang so she could see better.

  It appeared to her that Ed Priest had done well for himself. He and his family lived in an upscale community in Bethesda, Maryland. Their home was a two-story brick painted white, with a three-car side-load garage. The landscape was nicely done, all water-loving flowers and sweeping lawns, which was quite foreign to Blum.

  And all that mulch! She shuddered.

  She stiffened a bit when the car pulled out of the garage and headed down to the street.

  Mary Priest was driving, and two young boys were in the backseat.

  As the Lexus SUV passed by, Blum caught a glance at Priest’s profile through the open car window.

  The face was pale, the features pinched, the cheeks reddened.

  The woman had obviously experienced a hellish time and was probably continuing to do so, although it appeared that Mary Priest and her sons had been released from the protective custody that Pine had arranged.

  Blum fell in behind Priest, and the two cars made their way out to one of the main arteries leading into downtown Bethesda. The children were clearly school-age, but it was possible that after what had happened Mary had decided to keep them home from classes.

  She followed at a discreet distance in light traffic. The Mustang did tend to stand out.

  The Lexus pulled to a stop in front of a building on a side street in Bethesda. The sign out front proclaimed it to be one of those educational centers where kids went to bone up on math and English and other subjects. Priest got out and led her sons into the building, while Blum found an open space across the street.

  Five minutes later Priest came back out, but she didn’t get into her car. She started walking down the street. Blum got out of her car and followed.

  It was nearly noon, and Blum wondered if the woman was going to do some shopping while waiting for her kids. And then Priest swerved into a building.

  Blum quickly followed.

  It was a movie theater.

  Priest bought a ticket and Blum purchased one for the same movie.

  She trailed Priest down the hall and into the theater.

  It was empty.

  Priest took a seat in the middle, while Blum took the same seat several rows behind.

  She settled down and waited. Her first thought was that Priest was waiting for someone, but the woman was not checking her phone or watch or looking toward the entrance. She just stared down at her hands.

  As the previews came on, Blum decided to risk it.

  She got up from her seat and moved to Priest’s row, taking the chair one over from the woman.

  Priest didn’t even look up. She seemed lost in thought.

  This gave Blum a chance to study the woman. She looked to be no more than forty, petite with dirty-blond hair that fell to her shoulders. Trim and fit looking, she was dressed in cream-colored slacks, flat shoes, and a light blue short-sleeved shirt that showed off defined, tanned arms. Her Kate Spade handbag sat in the chair next to her.

  She dabbed at her eyes with her hand. Then the tears came more fiercely and she put her head in her hands.

  Blum opened her purse, took out a packet of tissues, and handed them across.

  Priest saw them, jerked up, and looked over at Blum. But when she focused on the older woman next to her, she instantly relaxed, smiled briefly, and thanked her. She took out a few tissues and handed the packet back. She wiped her eyes clear and then blew her nose.

  “I . . . I think it’s allergies,” said Priest, not meeting Blum’s eye.

  “I think it might just be life,” said Blum. “I’ve sat in my share of theaters with ‘allergy’ problems.”

  Priest laughed lightly and looked embarrassed. “I didn’t even want to see this movie. I just picked it because it was playing now.”

  “I did the same thing,” said Blum. “Just wanted to get out and about.”

  “I’m Mary.”

  “Carol,” said Blum. They shook hands. “It’s nearly lunchtime, if you’d prefer that. At my age, I look forward to meals. And you look like you could use something to eat.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I ate. Do you . . . live around here?”

  “No, I’m visiting from another part of the country. I have friends here, but they’re working today. Do you know a good place to eat?”

  “I do.”

  “Shall we?”

  Priest laughed. “I’ve got some time to kill, so what the hell?”

  They walked outside, and Priest led Blum over to another street.

  “It’s a French-style café. The menu’s good, though a little rich, and I could use some wine, actually.”

  Blum nodded appreciatively. “Sounds fine to me. I long ago stopped counting calories and restricting my alcohol consumption.”

  “I really look forward to those days,” said Priest wistfully.

  They were led to a table in the back by the greeter.

  As they settled in and looked over their menus, Blum said, “I know this sounds like a cliché, but I’m a good listener. I have six kids and I’m divorced, and no, it wasn’t amicable. I’ve got lots of grandkids, some I still haven’t seen. I’ve traveled widely and experienced pretty much everything, so if you want to talk, I can give you an excellent armchair quarterback analysis.”

  Priest smiled and rubbed at her eyes. “God, it was like you were dropped from Heaven right when I needed you.”

  “Sometimes the world works in mysterious ways.”

  They ordered two glasses of merlot, and each took a sip before Priest plunged in.

  “This is going to sound crazy, even to someone like you.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s my husband.”

  “That doesn’t sound crazy at all.”

  “No, no, you don’t understand. He’s not cheating on me or anything.
Ed’s a good guy.”

  “So what’s the issue, Mary?”

  Priest shook her head. “You’re not going to believe me.”

  “I assure you that I will.”

  “My husband. Well, it started with his brother.”

  “What did?”

  “His brother is into something, I’m not sure what. And now we’re sucked into it too.”

  “Into something? Do you mean criminal?”

  “That’s just it, I don’t know. What I can tell you is that my husband left on a trip without telling me where he was going. He’s never done that. He’s as vanilla as they come. He’s a CPA, for God’s sake.”

  “Is he back yet?”

  “No, and here’s the other thing. The frigging FBI came to our house and said they were there to protect us.”

  “Good Lord! And you think it was connected to your brother-in-law?”

  “It has to be. I mean none of this stuff ever happened before.”

  “Have you spoken to your husband?”

  “Not since he left. I’m terrified. I have no idea if he’s okay or not.”

  “But you’re no longer being guarded? I mean here you are out and about without armed guards.”

  “That’s the other strange thing. They just upped and left. They said everything was fine. False alarm.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I did what any wife would do. I blew a fucking gasket, pardon my language.”

  “I would have, too.”

  “I was screaming at these guys. ‘Where’s my husband? What’s going on? Why are you involved?’”

  “And what did they tell you?”

  “Absolutely nothing. They just left. I got on my phone and started calling around to all of Ed’s friends and business associates. But none of them had heard a thing.”

  “And his brother?”

  “I called him too, but he didn’t answer. I left a bunch of messages. Nothing. The jerk. He has little enough to do with us, really. And now this!”

  “But you don’t know for sure that he is involved in all this.”

  “Then why hasn’t he called me back?”

  “Does he live nearby?”

  “In Old Town. Old Town Alexandria. It’s in northern Virginia, just across the river.”

  “Have you been to see him?”