“The girls hazed Sara Long because she was too nosy. Insinuating herself in other people’s business. But that was her way of finding out whether anyone knew she was hooking. It was all so… incestuous.”
Kelly reached for his coffee and blew steam off the surface. “Tell me something. You ever kill someone before?”
“No.”
“You holding up?”
“I’ll make it.” At the Academy, they’d warned she might have a reaction if she ever shot someone. They made sure she knew about the resources that could help them through the trauma. But Georgia didn’t need counseling or pills or even booze. Her training had kicked in, and she’d shot Walcher on instinct. Kill or be killed. She’d do it again.
“How much would you say Fred Stewart’s land was worth?” She asked.
“Hard to say,” Kelly replied. “In today’s market, with four or five acres, in the middle of the North Shore, probably a few mill. Maybe more.”
She felt a profound weariness. A murder investigation was all-consuming. It compelled her to forsake everything except the search for the killer. She had gone over every lead, every interview, every detail, almost obsessively, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. In the end, though, a young girl’s life had been snuffed out because of money. It seemed so futile. Even trite. Perl was the ringleader, but it wasn’t just his responsibility. Or Tom Walcher’s. All of them, Andrea, Lauren, even Sara Long, had become broken, in one way or another, because of greed. They were all accountable.
Kelly folded his hands. “You did good, Davis.”
“It was my job.”
A young waitress in jeans and a t-shirt padded over and freshened their coffee. Her shoes hardly made a sound.
“Listen…” Kelly leaned across the table after she was gone. “You wanna take on another job? I got a few lined up. And—well—it turns out I don’t mind working with you.”
Georgia smiled weakly. “Well now, that’s a ringing endorsement.”
“Hey.” He looked injured. “I mean it.”
“I got a call from Eric Olson this morning. He’s the Chief of Police where I used to work.”
One of Kelly’s eyebrows went up.
“When I was suspended, I—er, accidentally forgot to turn one of my Sigs. The Glencoe cops confiscated it Sunday night.”
“So?”
“Olson said he knew I kept it when I was suspended. And that he had to make a decision whether to bring charges—”
“The shithead.”
“Or invite me back on the force so I’d be legal.”
Kelly’s other eyebrow joined the first to form a perfect arch. “What did you tell him?”
“That I’d think about it and let him know.”
Kelly didn’t say anything for a long while. Then, “Make the right decision, Davis.”
***
“What’s going to happen to Lauren?” Pete said that night, scrubbing sweet potatoes over Georgia’s kitchen sink. Georgia had surprised herself by inviting him, along with Sam, and Sam’s boyfriend, for Thanksgiving dinner. He’d surprised her by accepting, though being a vegetarian, he’d skip the turkey. But he came down later waving his mother’s secret sweet potato pie recipe, which he claimed he’d wangled after begging and pleading and a bribe or two.
“She’s been charged with pandering. And if it turns out any of her girls were under sixteen, they’ll add juvenile pimping.”
“What does that mean in terms of a sentence?”
“Pandering’s a Class Four felony.” At his blank look, she added, “One to three years. But she has a shot at probation. Especially if I testify on her behalf.”
“Which you’re going to do.”
Georgia turned on the flame under a large pot of water. “She’s not a bad kid once you cut through the crap. If I were the judge, I’d get her into therapy right away. And make her do community service with abused women.”
“What about her mother?”
“She appears to be remorseful.”
Pete frowned. “But wasn’t she in on the scam?”
“Not really. She didn’t know anything about the deal until her brother died.”
“Do you believe her?”
Georgia didn’t like the woman, but that didn’t make her a liar. She nodded.
Pete dropped the potato into the pot. “This life of yours. How can you do it day after day? Doesn’t it get to you? Don’t you ever want to be—normal?”
She rinsed her hands and dried them with a dishtowel. “Who says I’m not ‘normal,’ whatever that is?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
A BLEAK November chill descended the day before Thanksgiving. It was accompanied by unrelenting gray skies above and a layer of frost below. Georgia wandered around her living room, marveling at her new furniture which had been delivered yesterday. A cushiony beige couch, two brown easy chairs, and a real, honest-to-God bronze coffee table. The earth tones gave off a tranquil feeling, and with her desk and shelves, the room looked full.
She was thinking about doing some last-minute errands when the intercom buzzed from downstairs. Thinking Pete must have forgotten something, she pressed the button.
“What did you forget?”
There was no answer.
“Pete?”
“It’s Matt.”
She froze for a moment, then pressed the buzzer to let him in. She thought about hurrying into the bathroom to run a comb through her hair, slapping on some blusher. She stayed where she was. She cracked the door and went into the kitchen and filled a glass with water. While she was drinking it down, her front door squeaked. She went back into the living room.
Matt stood there, unwrapping a plaid muffler. “Hello.”
“Hello, Matt.”
He peered around. “The place looks great.”
“A fire’s a great excuse to get new stuff.”
“May I take off my jacket?”
She folded her arms. She could smell the outdoors on him, a chilly, damp, pungent scent.
He kept his jacket on. “We did great work the other day. It was—a seamless operation.”
She studied his expression. “Your superiors are happy, I’m sure.”
“They are. And thank you for not pressing charges against me.”
“You did what you had to.” He’d said the same thing to her the other day. “I’m okay. And,” she waved her hand, “I got new furniture out of the deal.”
He nodded gratefully. “I have enough to work out between me and Hashem.”
“Your God can’t be that capricious. And if He is, why believe in Him?”
The glimmer of a smile crossed his face. “You get right to the point, don’t you?”
She kept her mouth shut.
“Well, then, I guess I will, too. We make a good team, Georgia.”
A wave of uneasiness washed over her.
“Will you give me a second chance?”
She blinked, trying to will away her disquiet, but it stayed in her gut, hard and heavy.
“I made a mistake,” he went on. “I left a piece of me behind when I went away. It stayed with you. I want to be whole again. Let me make it up to you. You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. Especially the past few days.”
“That’s true. I have.”
“And?”
She bit her lip. “The thing is…” she paused. “I don’t need you any more.”
“You never did.”
Easy for him to say.
“The question is do you want me?” He went still.
She weighed what to say, surprised herself with her response. “Matt, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
He let out a long breath. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
“Not really. Just me.” As she said it, she realized it was the truth.
He hung his head. Then she heard a tap on the steps, followed by a thump. Then another tap, another thump. A knock on her door.
When she opened it, Pete was
there, leaning on his cane and grinning. His smile faded when he saw Matt. “Oh sorry…” He looked at Georgia. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s okay.”
“I just came down to say I’ve been working on my sister’s stuffing recipe and I think I’ve got it pretty good. I wanted you to try it.”
“I’d like that. I’ll be up in a minute.”
He glanced uncertainly at Matt, then at her. “OK.”
She watched him ascend the steps, one at a time. She closed the door.
Matt looked at her. “There’s no chance, is there?”
“Matt, what would you do in my place?”
He didn’t answer for a long time. Then, “I’d tell me to go to hell.”
She smiled then, and reached her hand up to his cheek. She traced the line of his jaw with her finger. “I would never say that. You taught me so much.”
“But…” His chest heaved.
“But…” She shook her head. “Not now. Maybe not ever.”
He swallowed and turned away quickly. He opened the door and started down the stairs. She closed the door and leaned against it. She heard his foot clomp on the steps, heard the vestibule door squeak when he went through.
She leaned against the door for a long while, then wiped her hands on her jeans. Pete, Sam, and Sam’s new boyfriend would be coming tomorrow. The new furniture looked good, but something was missing.
Plants. Living things. It was time to buy a ficus. Maybe a fern. She checked the clock in the kitchen. If she went now, she could get them today. She grabbed her coat and her bag.
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