Déjà vu. That’s what Georgia thought when she pushed through the door of the Northglen police station. Nothing had changed since she’d been on the force ten years earlier. The lobby still bore the same linoleum floor tiles, more scuffed and in a few corners, chipped. The gray plastic chairs still looked like the most uncomfortable chairs in the world, and the same flyers and press releases about local sex offenders and BOLOs were pinned to the bulletin board. Someone had added one or two Covid announcements, and the headline “Where to Get Vaccinated” screamed at her in bold black letters.
She headed over to Dispatch, still in the same corner of the lobby. Two officers manned the switchboard behind a glass window, but now a huge computer monitor hung from the ceiling. That was an improvement. She approached the window, signed in, and waited for the officer who looked her over to see if he would recognize her. Nothing. She went back to one of the plastic chairs and sat.
A few minutes later, a young woman with long dark hair and a detective’s badge on a belt around her waist opened a door adjacent to Dispatch. “Hi. I’m Dru. The Chief told me to take you back to him.” She beckoned Georgia over.
All Georgia could think was how much she’d wanted to wear that detective badge when she was on the force. She never got the chance. Back then, although it was only ten years ago, there were no female detectives. Now this young woman looked perfectly comfortable. Maybe the station wasn’t such a déjà vu.
“The Chief still talks about you,” Dru said. It felt awkward, almost comical, to hear the former detective she called O’Malley or “The Irishman” or just “Dan” referred to as “Chief.” Georgia shot her a polite smile.
“How you cracked that serial killer case…when was it?”
“Over ten years ago.” Georgia smiled for real this time. “I was lucky.”
“That’s not what he says.”
Georgia followed Dru into a large room crowded with a warren of office cubicles separated by a center aisle. At the opposite room was an office with glass walls. A carefully stenciled sign on the door said “Chief of Police” in white paint. Underneath that was the name “Commander Daniel O’Malley.” The door was partially open, but Dru knocked anyway.
“Enter.”
“Here you go, Chief.” The woman turned to go but looked over at Georgia. “Nice to finally meet you, Georgia.”
“You too.” As Dru left the office, Georgia studied O’Malley, who was seated behind a large desk. The lines waffling his craggy forehead had deepened since she last saw him, and his hair, once a coppery red, was now mostly gray. He’d been promoted to the post only a year ago, and his shoulders drooped as if the responsibilities had turned him into the Atlas of law and order.
“You still look as young as your first day on the force, Davis. What were you? Seventeen or something?”
“I wish.” She smiled. “But thanks.” She knew what he was trying to say.
“Sit.” He motioned her to a table in the corner of the office and lumbered over to join her. He had put on weight.
“I gather you’re still keeping tabs on me,” she said. He’d been her mentor and a real friend when her life had crumbled into chaos.
“Of course.” He sat down heavily. “I hear you’re working on some deaths related to Covid.”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“The circumstances of their deaths are strange.”
“How?”
“We’re still investigating.”
“Which means you’re not gonna tell me.”
“I would if I could.”
“Just tell me you and your family are vaccinated.”
“Yup. We got the Lake Geneva specials.”
“Saclarides.”
“We’re all practically relatives at this point.”
He smiled wryly. “That’s Chicago.”
“And Lake Geneva is Chicago’s summer playground.” She hesitated. “But that’s not why I’m here. There’s been a hiccup—I guess I’d call it a distraction—and I have to take care of it before I can get back to the Covid case.”
“Oh?”
“There’s a woman who lived in Nauvoo. She’s married to a Mormon Fundamentalist.”
“That’s too bad.” O’Malley grimaced. “Anyone you know?”
“No. In fact, she did a runner. Word is she’s headed to or already in Chicago. I need to find her.”
“Because…”
“Her husband and some of his buddies are looking for her. If they find her, they’ll either force her to go back…” she paused, “or make sure she has some kind of ‘accident.’”
“Pretty rough stuff for a religious group.”
“Do you know anything about Fundamentalist Mormons?”
“Not much.”
“They’re throwbacks to another century, when Mormons would rather fight than pray. Spill the blood of their enemies. They still practice polygamy, and a lot of them practice incest at the same time.”
“It’s too bad about this woman, but it has nothing to do with you. I mean, last time we spoke you weren’t Mormon, were you?”
Georgia ignored the crack and leaned forward. “What do they call people who look like someone else?”
He leaned back and folded his arms. “Twins?”
“No. It’s a long name. Dop something?”
“Doppelganger.”
“Right. See? That degree you got in college paid off.” Georgia didn’t have a four-year college degree. She’d gone to a two-year community college then straight into the Police Academy.
“Careful, Davis. I have the BS degree.” He grinned.
“Of course, you do. You’re Irish.”
That got a laugh. “So what do you want me to do?”
“Like I said, I want to find this woman. She’s in danger, and so am I.” She dug out the poster she’d copied and handed it over. “Take a look.”
O’Malley studied the photo and whistled. “From a distance—actually, even close-up—I’d swear that was you. You say she’s here?”
“I believe so. but I don’t know where.”
“So you want me to put out feelers.”
“It would mean a lot.”
“What’s your deadline?”
“Yesterday.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“I don’t want to scare her off. So please be careful. I might even want to meet her. I just don’t have your resources.”
O’Malley arched his brows. “What are you going to do if you find her?”
“Tell her to get as far away from Chicago as she can. That bad guys are coming after her. Maybe offer some protection.”
“You realize that puts you in their sights, too.”
“I already am.” She told him about the black Honda at Mickey’s.
O’Malley squeezed his eyes shut. “I should have known.” He opened them again. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Just some scrapes and scratches. And a cracked rib.”
“Tell you what. I’ll do better than an APB. I’ll put Dru on it.”
“Who?”
“The woman who brought you in. She’s gonna be a good detective, Georgia. In fact, she reminds me of you.”
“That would be great. Thanks, Dan. I knew I could count on you.”
“But I’m not letting her go into the field for this. Just desk work.”
“That will help a lot.” She rose to go. “I appreciate it, Dan. I’ll be in touch.”