The next morning, Georgia ran the engine with the defrost on high and scraped four inches of snow off her car. While she worked, she punched in the number of the FBI contact Jimmy had given her.
“LeJeune . . .” In the two syllables he spoke, Georgia could hear his Cajun lilt.
“Good morning. This is Georgia Davis. I’m an investigator, and Jimmy Saclarides gave me your number.”
“Mornin’, darlin’.” Georgia rolled her eyes. “How is my favorite chief of police?”
“He sends his regards. The reason I’m calling is that I’m working for the family of Dena Baldwin, the young woman who—”
“I know who she was.”
“Did you work on the case?”
“Not directly. But I am familiar with it.”
Georgia stopped scraping. “I’d like to get Ms. Baldwin’s computer. I’ve been told the case is closed as far as the FBI is concerned, or at least inactive. If the agency isn’t willing to return the actual computer, perhaps you could copy the hard drive and give me that. I’m hoping you’ll put in a good word with the agents involved.”
“Not gonna happen,” he said crisply. “It’s an open criminal investigation, and her computer may contain important evidence for us.”
“But from what I’m reading, the Bureau doesn’t consider it a heater case. The guy who killed her is dead.”
“What about the fact that you’ve been hired by the family? That would indicate to me that something has changed, n’est-ce pas?”
Christ. French too? Jimmy had warned her it could be a long shot, but she had her answer ready. “Nothing’s changed. The family just wants to close the book on it, and this would help.”
“Nice try, angel.”
Despite the cold, Georgia felt her cheeks get hot.
“But since Chief Saclarides and I are such good friends, tell you what I’m gonna do. You get a court order or a Freedom of Information Act request approved, and I’ll be the first to give you that flash drive.”
“Oh, come on. That’s going to take way too much time, and most of what’s there will probably be redacted.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard that.”
Georgia couldn’t understand why Jimmy respected LeJeune. He was acting like an asshole. She hated to pull rank, but she needed Dena’s laptop. She didn’t have a choice. “You do know who her father is, right? I can probably get it that way if I have to.”
“Be my guest, cher,” LeJeune said. “And when you do, it will give me great pleasure to meet the woman who wrapped Chief Saclarides around her little finger.”
She stabbed the “end” button harder than she needed to. LeJeune was a cliché from one of her Dashiell Hammett novels, misogyny and all. Then again, if she was being honest with herself, she had to admit he was just doing his job.
Once the Toyota was free of ice, she climbed in and headed over to Zach Dolan’s office in Northbrook, stopping at a bagel place on the way. He was outside walking Jeremiah when she pulled up. He stopped. Jeremiah barked.
She rolled down the window and held up the bag of bagels. “I brought breakfast.”
Zach lifted his eyebrows. “Cream cheese too?”
She grinned. “And jelly.”
He shushed Jeremiah and swept his arm in a welcoming gesture. “Then you may enter.”
Inside Zach toasted a couple of bagels. He loaded his with both cream cheese and jelly and dug in. Halfway through he sighed with satisfaction. “They’re fresh.”
“Only the best for the Dolans.”
He threw her a side-eyed glance. “And what impossible task brings you back so soon? With bribes?”
Georgia cleared her throat and explained what she had in mind. As she did, Zach’s expression changed from contentment to surprise to disbelief.
“You want me to run forty-two thousand names through a background check?” He rubbed a hand against his forehead. “And I suppose you want it yesterday.”
“That’s about right.”
“Impossible.”
“Really?”
“I’d need a team of people. First to pry out the real names of the Facebook members. Then to run them through criminal background checks.”
Georgia didn’t blink. “A team is fine.”
“Oh. We have money for this?”
“Whatever you need.”
Zach whistled. Jeremiah, who’d been lying at Zach’s feet, pricked up his ears. When he saw Zach with a bagel, he got up and pushed his head into Zach’s lap. “See what you made me do?” He tore off a piece of bagel and handed it to the dog, who snapped it up, swallowed it in one bite, and drooled just enough that Zach gave him another piece.
“Somehow I think this is going to be one spoiled puppy,” Georgia said dryly.
“Two points for the lady.” Zach’s forehead furrowed. “You know, I do have a friend who says he can match Facebook user names to their account IDs and real names.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Georgia said.
“Hear what?” Zach grinned. “Although Facebook is pretty much a sieve these days since Cambridge Analytica stole all their data. You can find stuff all over the dark web.”
“The timing is what’s critical,” Georgia said.
Zach nodded. “How fast do you need it?”
“You were right when you said yesterday.”
“Can’t do it, Georgia. Even if I divide up the list, say, between five or six guys, it’s gonna take longer.”
“How much longer?”
“For forty-two thousand names? A month at least. Maybe more.”
Georgia bit her lip. “That’s too long. What if you had ten or twelve guys working on it?”
“Even if I knew ten or twelve guys, it would still take a month.” He shook his head. “And at least twelve grand.”
“Can’t you come up with some program that can automate the whole process?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Okay. A month. We’ll make it work. I have things to do in the meantime. Let me check with the client to make sure twelve is okay.” She called Erica, who agreed to the fee, then turned back to Zach. “Can you flag the people with issues and send them over as you work your way through the list? At least that way, I could start in on a few.”
“We could do that.”
She smiled. “Great. Well then, what are you waiting for?”