fast, some of it missed her mouth and dribbled down her front. She wiped the droplets off her with her hand and set the bottle down.
Get a grip. This is not productive. You’re no longer a helpless little girl. You’re an FBI agent—start acting like it.
Her phone buzzed. She didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway.
“Agent Pine?” It was a man. The voice was familiar, but in her current frame of mind, she couldn’t place it.
“Who is this?”
“Tyler Straub. I work for Mr. Lineberry. We talked before?”
“He’s not—”
“No, he’s fine. He’s awake now and the doctors are in there now checking him out.”
“So why are you calling?”
“You told me to give you a ring if anything seemed off.”
“And something does?”
“Well, I can’t find Jerry.”
“What do you mean? He was at the hospital yesterday. I didn’t think he ever left.”
“Operative word being was. No one’s seen him for a while.”
“You checked Jack’s place?”
“Checked everywhere I could think of.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Not that long after you left. The thing is, I’ve been on duty all this time and I’d like to get some relief. But I have no one to hand off to.”
“The cops are guarding Jack’s room, too.”
“Yeah, but the guy is my responsibility. He pays my salary. So…”
“Maybe Jerry’s gone back to the house for some reason.”
“Maybe. But I can’t reach him. And I can’t leave here to check.”
“I’ll go over there and see what I can find out.”
“That would be great. Just let me know as soon as you find out anything. His cottage is the blue one. It’s about three hundred yards directly behind the main house and right next to mine.”
Pine clicked off and hustled down to her SUV.
She drove straight out of Andersonville and headed north.
Then she stopped when she got to the scene of the shooting.
There was police tape up at various spots around the area. The Aston Martin was still there, though it was cordoned off with more police tape wound around orange cones. Two forensic techs were going over the car, and there was a county cop standing guard next to his cruiser.
She parked and got out of her SUV, flashing her FBI creds and badge at the trooper on duty.
“I’m working the case with Detective Wallis from GBI,” she noted.
He nodded at her before leaning back against his vehicle.
She walked under the police tape to where the techs were working on the car.
“Anything?” she said.
“Pulled a round from out of the dashboard,” said one, a young woman.
“What was the type?”
“Five point five six.”
“That’s a NATO round,” said Pine. “Very reliable killing at long distance.” Lineberry was even luckier than she had thought.
“Lot of blood, too,” said the other tech, a man in his forties.
“Yes, there was,” replied Pine.
“Is the guy okay?” said the woman.
“He’ll make it.”
She got back into her SUV and drove on, coming to the spot where the shot-up truck was being hoisted onto a flatbed wrecker service. After she showed her creds to the cop stationed there, he told her the truck was being taken back to a police facility to be thoroughly checked for trace including more blood, DNA, and prints.
She eyed the bullet holes in the windshield, in the grille, and the shredded tire.
The cop noted this and said, “Whoever did all that was a damn good shot.”
“Thanks.”
The startled deputy said nothing but looked at her suspiciously.
Pine drove on, arriving at Lineberry’s about an hour later. The massive estate was unsettlingly quiet. Lineberry was not here, of course. Tyler Straub was at the hospital. Jerry Danvers was the wild card.
The gate was closed, and no one answered her call on the video screen. She drove past the main house and to the rear of the property. This was all fenced in as well, but she managed to clamber over a section of wall and dropped inside the grounds. She stood and looked around. There was a lot of land back here, outbuildings, impeccable landscaping, hardscapes, formal and informal gardens. Lineberry had spared no expense in making his home an exceptional place.
She walked along a pea-gravel path and was surprised not to encounter anyone. She assumed that Lineberry employed people to take care of the grounds, too, and there was the house staff as well. But she was all alone right now.
That did not make her feel any better.
She saw the twin cottages, one blue and one green.
Straub had been right. They weren’t your typical “cottage.” They looked to be about thirty-five hundred square