Easy Innocence (38 page)

She stopped and peered straight ahead. Ricki Feldman was lying face up on the ground in a clearing near the water’s edge. She wasn’t moving. Georgia squinted and thought she saw her breathing shallowly. What had they done to her?

The two men were a few feet away, their backs to Georgia, talking in low tones. One of them was dressed in warm-up pants and a fleece vest. Perl. The other, bigger and brawnier, wore canvas pants and a pea jacket. He’d drawn a gun—it looked like a Glock—and kept glancing back at Ricki, as if he expected she might rise, brush herself off, and run away.

Georgia waited for Matt. He had more ground to cover; it would take him longer to get in position. She quietly unsnapped the flap on her holster and drew out the Glock. She stood for what seemed like a long time, willing the goon to keep talking. Finally, she spotted a subtle movement across the clearing. Matt drew his weapon. She knew he expected her to, also. She pointed the Glock at the two men. Suddenly, Matt emerged from the thicket.

“Lenny, drop the gun!”

Lenny whipped around, surprise on his face. “What the fuck?”

Perl spun around too.

“Don’t move, Perl,” Georgia stepped forward from the other side. “I shot Walcher, and I’ll shoot you too!”

Perl froze, mouth open, eyes huge, but Lenny swung around toward Georgia. A slight smile played on his face. He pulled back the slide on his automatic and aimed. She jumped back and sideways. She lost her balance and fell to the ground.

A shot rang out. Then the quiet rushed in again. Georgia rolled onto her stomach and raised her head. A look of surprise had unfolded across Lenny’s face. His body tensed. A hole in his stomach gushed blood. He fell forward onto the ground. His hands still clutched the Glock.

Perl still hadn’t moved. Georgia scrambled up and trained her gun on Perl, but Matt was already on him.

“Are you okay?” He shouted.

“I’m good, Matt.”

“Okay.” He sounded relieved.

Georgia looked at Ricki. She was still breathing shallowly, but her eyes were open and filled with panic. Matt stayed where he was. He kept his gun on Perl.

“Cuff him,” he called to Georgia.

She pulled out the cuffs from her pocket and bent over Perl. Pulling back one arm, then the other, she snapped them in place.

“Thank God you’re here!” Perl suddenly found his voice. “He...” He gestured with his chin at the fallen security guard. “... He went berserk! He took us hostage. He was going to kill us both. He—”

“Save it,” Georgia said.

“You have to believe me. I would never do anything to hurt my partner’s daughter. He—”

“Shut up, Perl,” she repeated.

Perl’s mouth closed. The distant sound of a siren cut through the air. Georgia glanced back at Ricki. Her skin looked clammy, and Georgia could see sweat on her upper lip. She went to her and dropped down on her knees.

Ricki cringed. What was she anticipating Georgia wondered. A blow? A shot to the head? Or something worse?

“Am I going to die? Please,” she said, her voice weak but desperate. “I don’t want to die.”

Georgia pressed two fingers against Ricki’s carotid. Her pulse was racing. She turned over her hands. Her palms were sweaty, her eyes still panic-stricken.

“What’s happening? Am I dead? Help me, please!”

Georgia studied her nemesis. She thought about what she would want, were she in Ricki’s position. Then she slowly raised her hand—it might have been the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life—and brushed her fingers across Ricki’s brow. “You’re safe now,” she murmured gently. “It’s over. You’re going be okay.”

“
IT’S A
race to see who gets him first: the Feds or the locals,” Kelly said over breakfast next morning. He’d gone out of his way to drive up to the Lucky Platter in Evanston.

“Has anyone filed charges yet?” Georgia was famished. Between the interviews and debriefings with NORTAF and the Feds, she hadn’t eaten much the past two days. She bit into a strip of bacon. It was perfect: crisp, dry, not too salty.

“Not yet. But there’s a laundry list of ’em coming.”

“Lenny, the security man, did all the hits, right? Including Sara Long?”

Kelly nodded. “Perl’s trying to finger him, claiming it was all his idea. But no one’s buying it.”

She sniffed, taking in the aromas of fresh coffee, fried eggs, and biscuits on her plate. “Why the bat? He was already carrying.”

Kelly shrugged. “Probably one of those opportunities that just presented itself. Someone brought the bat to the hazing. He saw it lying around and figured it might be useful.”

“It got Cam Jordan indicted,” she said quietly. Then, “You know what I keep thinking about?”

“What?”

“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?”

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.