Chapter Fifty-One

For Georgia the drive from Duluth to Sand Lake was like rewatching a movie she hadn’t liked the first time. About nine summers earlier, Georgia had driven up to a remote lake in Wisconsin and was met by the barrel of a shotgun. Luckily, the standoff had been resolved without violence. Georgia later helped the woman elude her pursuers and hid her in a safe house.

This time, however, northern Minnesota was still in the throes of a bitter winter. Worse, snow was forecast. Georgia hated to drive in snow. Not only did the absence of traction scare her, but the knowledge that one small twist of the wheel could force a car to careen across the highway, skid for yards on ice, or plow into an eighteen-wheeler was a nightmare scenario. Plus, snow was a silent killer. A plane crash was accompanied by loud explosions and a fireball, flames hissing and eating everything in its path. But snow often muffled sight and sound in its inexorable path to oblivion. Sometimes bodies wouldn’t be found until spring.

She shook off the morbid thoughts. Jimmy had begged her not to go. Paul Kelly thought she was nuts, and Erica Baldwin was not sanguine about her success. But Georgia felt in her gut that Kitty Jarvis knew more about her brother and why he killed or was recruited to kill Dena Baldwin. She might even know about the beef jerky. Finding Kitty Jarvis was nonnegotiable. But she did compromise. She would fly to Duluth, rent a car, and drive about an hour to Sand Lake.

Jimmy was still concerned. Plenty of places in rural Minnesota still had no cell service. “What if you get into trouble? No one will know where you are.”

“I’ll call you every hour.”

“Let me come with you.”

Georgia shook her head. “If Kitty was spooked enough to flee Chicago, she’s not going to be happy to see a pair of folks she doesn’t know. Let me handle her.” She didn’t add that a woman alone could probably connect with Kitty more quickly.

Jimmy didn’t have a good response, so early the next morning, she hopped on a flight to Duluth. Two hours later as she waited for a bus to the rental car area of the Duluth airport, she checked her voice mail. Three messages had come in from Vanna. All within the past hour. When Georgia replayed them, she noted how Vanna’s voice sounded more stressed and higher pitched with each call.

Georgia, Charlie has a high fever, and it won’t go down even with Tylenol. Mom says to wait. But I can’t. What should I do?

Then:

Georgia, Charlie had a seizure. I’m taking him to the hospital. Please come, Georgia. I need you.

Then:

Georgia, it’s JoBeth. Charlie’s not doing well at all. They think it might be meningitis. Vanna needs you. I’ll leave if that’s what it takes for you to come. I know you don’t want anything to do with me.

Georgia felt her stomach pitch, as if her guts had spilled out on the concrete of the airport. She hit redial on one of Vanna’s calls.

“Georgia, where are you?” Her sister’s voice, squeaky and tight, was halfway to hysterical. “You’ve got to come. Charlie is really sick. He’s been vomiting, and his skin is paper white. They want to do a spinal tap. They think it might be meningitis. He’s got a high fever, and he’s had two seizures. I can’t make him stop crying. I can’t do this, Georgia. I’m sorry for everything. Please come right away.”

Georgia’s heart cracked. Why had she picked today to fly to Minnesota? “Vanna, honey, the doctors know what they’re doing. If they say they need to do a spinal tap, let them. They’ll make it as comfortable as possible. I—I’m in Minnesota on a case.”

“But this is an emergency,” Vanna wailed. “Please come back. Now.”

Georgia bit her lip. By the time she flew back it would be mid-afternoon. The spinal tap would be over. She told Vanna that.

“I haven’t given them permission yet. Mom says they’re dangerous. He could die from it.”

“Vanna, Charlie isn’t going to die.”

“How do you know?”

“Where are you? What hospital?”

“We’re at Northwest Community, but they want to transfer us downtown to Children’s. I don’t know. Should we go?”

“Absolutely. Children’s is the best.” She tried to sound calm and composed. “Tell you what. I’ll call Jimmy. He’ll meet you there. And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“When?”

“Late tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I’ll come straight from the airport. And go ahead and ask the doctors to explain everything to you in simple language. Call me back if you still don’t understand.”

Vanna was sobbing now. “Okay. Georgia, I love you. I’m so sorry for everything. Can we—can we start over? Can I come home and live with you?”

Georgia’s eyes welled up too. She couldn’t help it. “I love you too, Vanna. Of course you can live with me. Now, listen up, sweetie. In another hour I might be in a place where there may not be cell service. So if you can’t reach me, don’t worry. As soon as it comes back, I’ll call you.” She hesitated, wondering what else she could say that would help. “You can do this. You’re his mom. And a wonderful one at that. Keep telling him it’s going to be okay. And that you’ll be with him every second. He may not understand the words, but he’ll feel your reassurance and comfort. And your love.”

Between her sobs Vanna said, “Pray for him, will you?”

This was the first time Vanna had ever expressed faith of any kind. Where had that come from? “I will,” she lied.

She disconnected. The lump in her throat threatened to choke off her breath. But so did a new thought. Why wasn’t JoBeth helping her daughter during this crisis? Why was Vanna turning to Georgia?