A profound weariness rolled over Georgia. She paused the tape and rubbed the back of her neck. The case was coming to a close. She would soon be rid of Nicole/Ruth, the Prairie Rats, and the Resistance. She wouldn’t miss them. She stood up. She was physically drained: her back ached, and her eyes were heavy from staring at the monitor. She poured a Diet Coke with lemon. Then she went back to the computer.
She didn’t have to, but she reviewed the footage, isolated a few still shots of the maid and Jarvis, and emailed them to Zach to enhance. Just in case.
Chapter Seventy-One
The Night Before the Demonstration
Ruth made an exception to her rule and invited Jarvis to spend the night at her condo. She didn’t want him hanging out at the Barracks and possibly opening his mouth. It was risky; Dena wanted Ruth to come over and rehearse her speech, but Ruth convinced her to talk on the phone, since they both needed a good night’s sleep.
She ordered pizza with bacon and onions, Jarvis’s favorite, and made sure there was plenty of beer. She hoped he’d get high and pass out early so they could get an early start. But Jarvis was in an uncharacteristic talkative mood.
“When will the yurt be delivered?” he asked between beers. He was already loose and feeling no pain.
“She said about six weeks. They have to customize it, and that takes time.”
He looked disappointed, and his voice sounded like a childish whine. “That means I won’t be able to use it this winter.”
“Probably not. But you’ll be in there by spring. That should be lovely.”
He thought about it. “I guess.”
She went into the kitchen. “Need another beer?” She couldn’t hear his reply but brought him one anyway.
“You’re not drinking?”
“I’m a little nervous. You know, about tomorrow.”
“Piece of cake.” He grinned. “I haven’t used the rifle in a few months. But it’s like riding a bike. I’m looking forward to it.”
She dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Well, that’s the right attitude.” She sat in the La-Z-Boy. “Have you seen Beef Jerky recently?”
“Yesterday.”
“What’s up with him?”
“Not much. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
He chugged half his beer. “That’s funny. He asked me about you, too.”
“Really? What did he say?”
“That I should keep my eye on you. He thinks you’re sneaky.”
Sudden fear twisted her stomach. “What does that mean?”
Jarvis narrowed his eyes. “Dunno. He’s always saying shit like that about people.”
Ruth relaxed a tad. “Oh.”
“So why does the buzzer say Ruth Marriotti instead of Nicole? I thought you owned this place.”
“I do.” Ruth had to think fast. “I bought it from someone named Ruth. Just haven’t had the time to change it. I tell people I’m in 3B. Hasn’t been a problem. But you’re right. I should change it. I’ll do it tomorrow . . . Well”—she smiled—“maybe the day after. You’ll be halfway to Minnesota by then.” She changed the subject. “So you gonna finish that pizza? Let me get you another slice.”
She hurried into the kitchen and checked the time. Dena was supposed to have called half an hour ago. She was probably rehearsing with Curt. That was better. Ruth wasn’t sure she could handle Dena tonight, knowing what was coming just twelve hours later.
Everything was in place. The Bushmaster, the detonator attached to the alarm clock, new batteries for the clock. It would be over soon. She would begin a new life.
She faked a yawn. “Well, I think it’s time for bed. What do you think?”
“I’ll just finish my beer . . .”
• • •
Eventually Jarvis came to bed and reached for Ruth. After sex, which lasted longer and was hotter than usual, he fell off. But Ruth tossed and turned. What had Beef Jerky really said to Jarvis? Had he told him about Ruth’s plan? Did he order Jarvis to kill her in addition to Dena? The more she mulled it over, the more apprehensive she grew. Beef Jerky might have been orchestrating the entire event, playing Jarvis and Ruth off against each other. Maybe Jarvis knew she wasn’t Nicole. How could she find out? It was too late. Everything was in place. There was nothing she could do. She felt paralyzed.
Chapter Seventy-Two
The Present
That evening Georgia drove to Ruth’s condo one last time. She’d called Paul Kelly and Erica Baldwin and told them what she’d seen on the video surveillance footage. Paul wanted to call the FBI right away. Georgia couldn’t blame him. Erica Baldwin finally had some answers. It was time for Ruth to face the consequences and for Georgia to put the case to bed.
But there were a couple of loose ends remaining. One was what—if anything—Ruth knew about Beef Jerky’s fatal OD. No one was investigating it as anything but a drug-related overdose, but given Ruth’s plans to kill Dena and pin the blame on Jarvis, Georgia couldn’t help wondering if Ruth had any role in ensuring that Jerky’s OD was lethal. Why she’d do it, Georgia didn’t know, but she wanted to find out. She strapped the Sig in her holster this time. Just in case.
At Ruth’s condo downstairs, she buzzed her apartment. No response. Georgia sighed. The story of her life as a PI. She waited until one of the other residents exited, slipped inside before the vestibule door closed, and climbed up to the third floor. TV noise floated through the door. Maybe Ruth hadn’t heard.
“Ruth?” She knocked. “Are you there?”
When there was still no response, Georgia pulled out her lockpicks. It was easier this time. Less than a minute later, she let herself in. The TV was tuned to MSNBC, and Rachel Maddow was opining on the president’s latest shameful behavior.
“Ruth? You here? It’s Georgia Davis.”
No reply. She began to case the apartment. The living room and kitchen were empty. Two plates, glasses, and utensils lay in the sink. She headed toward the first bedroom, took out her Sig, and sidestepped to the closed door. She threw it open. Nothing.
She continued down the hall to the master bedroom. The door was open. An unmade bed, clothes strewn around the room, and a laptop on the bed. The screen saver bounced from one side to the other. Did Ruth see something on her computer that elicited her speedy exit? Georgia went to the computer and tapped a key. The screen came alive, and Ruth’s browser popped up. It was closed. Georgia was curious about what Ruth’s most recent online activity was, so she clicked on her history. What she saw made her heart pound and skin prickle with dread. Her own address in Evanston was blinking back at her.
• • •
Georgia broke every speed limit between the West Side and Evanston. What was Ruth doing at her home? Vanna and Charlie were there. She swore that if anything happened to her family, she would kill Ruth. It was personal now. She called Jimmy but reached his voice mail. She recalled he’d talked about a bigwig dinner at the old Playboy Club in Lake Geneva at which he had to make an appearance. He’d see her tomorrow. She voice-texted him that there was an emergency and he should race down to Evanston as soon as possible.
She parked a block away and sprinted to her apartment. The outside door was locked. She jammed in the key, but her hands shook so much she had to pull it out and try again. Inside she mounted the stairs two at a time. Her own door was open a crack. Not a good sign.
She took out her Sig and chambered a round. With her gun in one hand, she pushed the door open with the other.
The sight in front of her confirmed her worst fears. Vanna was sitting stiffly on the sofa holding Charlie, her eyes wide with panic. Charlie was fussing and Vanna was caressing him, trying unsuccessfully to comfort him. Ruth stood before them with something in her hands. Georgia focused on it. A pipe bomb. Probably identical to the one she’d built for Jarvis. Purple rage surged through her.
On seeing Georgia, Ruth placed the bomb on the floor a few feet from Vanna and Charlie and pulled a cell phone out of her pocket.
<
br /> “Hello, PI Georgia Davis,” Ruth said pleasantly. “We’ve been waiting for you. Now we can get this show on the road. Sit down.”
Chapter Seventy-Three
“Before we start, drop your gun and slide it over to me. I’ve already configured the IED to explode. The more time you waste, the less time you’ll have to defuse it.”
Georgia complied. Ruth hooked her cell phone onto the waistband of her jeans, picked up the gun, and aimed it at Vanna and Charlie.
“How long?” Georgia managed to rasp. She was so furious her throat had thickened and she could barely talk.
“It wouldn’t be any fun if I told you that, would it?” Ruth replied with the same pleasant smile. It was then that Georgia realized Ruth was not just an evil person bent on revenge, but an insane psychopath. She had to be stopped.
Georgia cleared her throat. Her voice strengthened. “Ruth, I know what you did, and why you did it. Don’t make it worse for yourself. Let Vanna and Charlie go, and I’ll stay.”
“No way,” Ruth snarled. She glanced at Vanna. “Don’t make a move, sister. By the way”—Ruth turned back to Georgia—“this one is more advanced than the one I built for the demonstration. I can set it off by remote control. Live and learn, right?” She laughed, a complete reversal of her irritation five seconds ago. “Well, to be honest, I had a little help.” Ruth was highly unstable. How had Georgia missed that?
But that was for later. Now she tried to figure out how to take her down, but without some sort of distraction, she couldn’t come up with a strategy. Keep her talking, she thought, until something happened. Maybe Charlie would throw up. Maybe the phone would ring. Maybe pigs would fly.
“Why me, Ruth? I haven’t done anything to hurt you.”
“But you will. You know too much. It’s time.”
“You killed Beef Jerky, didn’t you?”
“Now, that’s an interesting question.” Her smile widened. “I might have had something to do with it, although, to be honest, the people he worked for wanted to take care of him themselves.”
“You know about the Prairie Rats?”
“The ones that run Jerky and used Scott as their triggerman? The rich conservative white men who own oil companies, fracking businesses, the entire pharmaceutical and food industries, and have their own secret political group? Yeah, I know about them.”
“Are you working with them now? How can you? Their beliefs are the polar opposite of yours.”
“I know. They’re reprehensible. But there is something to be said about the enemy of your enemy . . . You gotta be flexible, you know?” She paused. “And I owe them.”
That Ruth could maintain her composure in the face of such treachery was bewildering. “What do you mean you owe them?”
Ruth shrugged. “I was losing control with Beef Jerky. He was afraid I’d change my mind. It was important for him to get both Dena and Jarvis out of the way. He came to my place and threatened to kill me unless I went through with everything.” She giggled. “He didn’t know me very well, did he?”
“No, he didn’t,” Georgia said. She took a step forward. Maybe she could get her gun back. Or the cell phone. “But I do. Ruth, we can work this out. I can help you. Put the gun down and defuse the bomb.”
“Stop right there, Davis.” She swung the gun from Vanna and aimed it at Georgia. “See, that was Jerky’s big mistake. I knew he was trying to convince Jarvis to kill me along with Dena at the demonstration. So I convinced Jarvis right back. And I won. He loved me,” she said. “Of course, he shot me in the ass instead of the shoulder like we planned, but I’m still here and he isn’t.”
Love? Georgia thought. Is that what Ruth called her relationship with Jarvis? A relationship built on deception, manipulation, and murder? It was an effort to keep her mouth shut.
“Afterwards his employers weren’t real happy with Jerky screwing it up. He’d been sloppy. Ran his mouth at the Barracks too much. I agreed. And so . . . presto! No more Jerky.”
Charlie was in full meltdown now, screaming and so red in the face Georgia feared he might have another seizure. Vanna was in tears, too, and squeaked in a terrified high-pitched tone, “Baby, calm down, it’s gonna be okay.” Which made Charlie shriek even louder. “He needs his bottle,” Vanna pleaded.
“You know, if the baby doesn’t stop crying, Ruth,” Georgia said, “someone will come down to see why. My neighbors are pretty concerned when they hear a baby cry too long.”
Ruth swung the gun back to Charlie. “Not if I shoot the brat first.”
“No!” Vanna roared. She tried to shield Charlie by settling him on the sofa and sitting in front of him. “Not my baby.”
“Get back where you were, sister,” Ruth scowled. “Right this minute or I’ll shoot you first and then your baby.”
Vanna scuttled back to her original position and picked up Charlie.
“That’s better.” She patted the cell phone hooked to her waistband. “So the P-Rats came to me after Jerky was gone and told me there was just one more thing I had to do for them, and then we’d be even.”
“Why me?”
“You’ve been a problem for us. I knew that the minute you came to my apartment. Sniffing around. Waiting for me to say something incriminating. You thought you were so smart. But now…well…you just wouldn’t give up.”
“You don’t think another explosion is going to lead them right back to you?”
“We have contingency plans.”
“Sure. And their contingency will be to blame it all on you. The revolutionary who craved power. Who wanted to subvert the entire government. They may even find a way to connect you to Russia.”
Ruth blinked. “You’re crazy.” Did a seed of doubt creep into her voice? “It’s in our interests to work together. Mutually aligned objectives. For now. In fact, the Tat boys helped me with the electronics of this little baby.” She gestured to the pipe bomb. “I mean, who better than a couple of vets, right?” She flashed Georgia a patronizing smile. “It’s a business arrangement. We all have something on each other.” She checked the time on the cell. “Time for me to get going. So. Remember, after I leave, you should start saying your farewells to each other.” She grinned. “You just never know when things are gonna go boom.”
“Ruth, there’s something you don’t know. And you should.”
“Sure. What’s that, Davis?” She didn’t look the least bit interested.
“The Prairie Rats were hired to go after Dena’s father. They’ve been trying to—”
The front door to the apartment swung open, cutting off Georgia’s words. There in the doorway stood JoBeth with a suitcase. “I just wanted to say— Hey, what’s going on?” She glanced around, spotted Ruth with the gun. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing to my girls?”
Ruth whirled around and aimed the gun at JoBeth. Georgia dived at Ruth, hoping to take her down before she could get off a shot. But before she could wrestle Ruth to the floor, the gun went off. JoBeth crumpled. Georgia belted Ruth in the gut. Ruth dropped the gun. Vanna seized it. Georgia grabbed Ruth around her chest and arms, immobilizing her. Ruth clawed at Georgia, then at herself, trying to free herself and grab the cell from her waistband. But Georgia threw her to the floor and jumped on her back, pinning Ruth with her weight.
“Vanna, get my cuffs from the top of my bureau. Then give me the gun, take Charlie, and run like hell to the end of the block. Call the police when you’re safe.”
Chapter Seventy-Four
With Ruth’s hands cuffed, Georgia allowed herself a short breath of relief, then rolled Ruth to one side and carefully removed the cell from her waistband. Ruth hurled a glob of spit at her face. After Georgia wiped it off with her sleeve, she did something she would never have done as a cop, although others did. She smashed her fist into Ruth’s face. Ruth groaned in pain. Georgia hoped she’d broken Ruth’s nose.
She examined the cell phone. She’d had rudimentary training on bomb defusal at the police academy, but
that was more than a decade ago, and bombs, especially the electronics, had become much more sophisticated. She knew that a signal from the cell would complete the circuit between the battery and the detonator, but she didn’t know enough to be confident about her skills and was reluctant to experiment with the device itself.
Fortunately, the cell was another matter. She took her time and slowly opened the back of the phone. She took another breath and delicately levered the battery out of its place with her fingernail. Nothing happened. The bomb was now inert.
She picked up the Sig and rammed it against Ruth’s temple, holding it there—she wasn’t sure for how long—until Jimmy burst in. He took in the scene at once and hurried over to Georgia.
“Help is here, Georgia,” he said. “The cops are pulling up right now. You can let go.”
But she couldn’t. Ruth had gone silent, and her eyes were shut, but Georgia knew she was conscious. Ruth was evil. She couldn’t let go. She could pull the trigger right now. No one would blame her. Ruth didn’t deserve to live. In some dark corner of her mind, Georgia knew it was her rage speaking, not her rational brain. Still, she pressed the gun against Ruth’s temple. When the cops did come in, it was Jimmy who pried the Sig from her hands.
Chapter Seventy-Five
Two days later Georgia, Jimmy, Paul Kelly, and Erica and Jeffrey Baldwin gathered in Kelly’s office for coffee.
“From the very beginning, Ruth was scheming, manipulating, lying,” Georgia said. “The day of the demonstration, for example, everyone thought Ruth was panicked because Dena was late and Ruth might have to speak instead,” Georgia said. “But what she really was upset about was the timing of the pipe bomb and whether it would explode before Jarvis took his shot.” She took a sip of coffee. “The irony was she wanted nothing more than to take Dena’s place. I should have known, damn it.”
High Crimes Page 25
