Jimmy was still on the North Shore interviewing a rich family whose Lake Geneva summer home had been robbed in their absence, so Georgia suggested he meet her for lunch at Mickey’s. Georgia got there first and took a table in the middle of the room where they would both have a view of the front entrance. She was halfway through her Diet Coke with lemon when he came in rubbing his hands. The weather had turned bone-chilling cold, probably to spite them for last night’s balmy evening.
Georgia told him about Hofstader’s phone call and what happened on her end. When she finished, Jimmy said, “That’s a relief. At least you won’t be accused of fraud.”
Georgia took the last sip of her drink. “I have a feeling it won’t be long now. The shit’s going to hit the fan.”
“I’m surprised they’ve been able to contain it till now,” Jimmy said. “What has it been? Two weeks?”
“Not that long. Only nine days. Still doable,” Georgia replied.
Owen lumbered over and took their orders. As they waited for their meals, Georgia took a look around. It was almost two. Most of the lunch crowd was gone. Only a few tables were occupied. No one looked familiar, but under the masks which were required for indoor dining, it was hard to tell.
Of course, many people didn’t wear them or took them off, especially if they’d been vaccinated. She wondered how many unmasked people were deceiving the world and hadn’t had a shot in the arm. Did they assume they were immune, or did they believe the disinformation shoved down their throats? She was in no way a liberal—cops were generally conservative everywhere, even in Chicago, and she had been a cop. But it was getting harder to justify the BS. She didn’t understand it. Weren’t they all supposed to be fighting this plague together?
She was about to bring up the subject with Jimmy when the front door opened and a young man with a mask on poked his head in. Something looked familiar about him. Wide forehead. Stringy brown hair. A modern-day Frankenstein. He gazed around the restaurant, clearly looking for someone. When he made eye contact with her, recognition lit his eyes. Georgia gasped. The clerk from the Nauvoo Motel! At the same time, the man must have realized he’d made a mistake, because he wheeled around and practically threw himself out the door. Georgia started after him.
“Where are you going?” Jimmy asked.
“That guy who came in, he’s the clerk from the Nauvoo Motel.”
“I’ll handle this. You stay here.” He sprang from his chair.
But Georgia was already halfway through the exit. A municipal parking lot sat half a block away, and she spotted the door to a gray Honda slam shut. So that’s who’d been following her. But why? What could a stranger she’d seen only once possibly want with her? And why had he turned tail instead of coming up to talk?
She heard the engine of the Honda turn over. He hit the gas and floored it out of the parking lot. It was a one-way street and he had to turn in Georgia’s direction. She planted herself in the middle of the street, hands straight out in front, signaling him to stop. She assumed he would, to avoid hitting her. Instead, he accelerated. If he didn’t slam on his brakes now, he would mow her down.
Curiously, time slowed to a crawl, and the next few seconds were an eternity. Georgia saw his face through the windshield. He wore an empty, robotic look. No emotion. Was he thinking anything at all? Was he high? She waved her arms overhead and yelled, “HALT! NOW!”
The driver heard her. She knew he did. But he completely ignored her. The Honda kept coming. There wasn’t enough time for Georgia to get out of the way now. So this the way she was going to die. Run over by a dazed pimply clerk from a motel. She drew herself up, defiant. If he was going to run her over, she wouldn’t let him see her fear. She would never beg or panic.
Suddenly a massive force on her left slammed her down and fell on top of her. She felt her head smash into the curb. The Honda hurtled past, missing her by inches. The air from its speed hit her like a wave, knocking the breath out of her. Instinctively she tried to cover her head with her hands, but the force bearing down on her made it impossible to move. She stopped trying. It would be nice to go to sleep. She closed her eyes and let her body go slack.
Jimmy scrambled up and watched the Honda speed away. Then he kneeled down. “Georgia, Georgia. Talk to me! Now.”