The Present
By the time Georgia’s cell service returned, there were two calls from Vanna and one from Jimmy. They were all now at Children’s, waiting for the spinal tap. She called Jimmy.
“What’s the prognosis?”
“They can’t be sure it’s not meningitis without doing the spinal.”
“Oh God. Poor Charlie. Poor Vanna.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Heading back to the Duluth airport. The last flight out leaves tonight around nine. I’ll be on it.”
“How was the trip?”
“I found her.”
“The sister.”
“We talked. I have a lot of work to do. But it’s all good. I know a lot more now.”
“You are relentless, you know that?”
She smiled. “Hey, I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever been ice fishing? Like on Lake Geneva?”
“Not on your life. My family’s Greek, not Nordic.”
“Wonderful. Let’s keep it that way.”
During the flight back to Midway, Georgia pieced together what she’d learned. Ruth had met Jarvis. As Nicole, she had wormed her way into his life in a casual but persistent fashion. That was something Dena herself might have done, Georgia mused. But not as subtly as Ruth. Ruth had gone out of her way to groom him, by trying to fit in with his friends, offering him comfort and support, and above all, buying him a yurt, which likely depleted her savings, all with the promise of a life away from it all. Was she planning to join him? And if she was, why hadn’t they gone off into the sunset together once the yurt was delivered? Was she waiting for him to kill Dena? If so, how did she convince him to do it?
Then there was the shooting itself. If Ruth/Nicole had persuaded him to shoot Dena, something must have gone wrong. Ruth had been wounded, and Jarvis himself killed. Why? Had Jarvis changed his mind at the last minute? Did he realize Ruth/Nicole was using him and tried to kill her too? Or was there some other possibility? She had the bones of the case, but she was still missing the flesh.