The next morning, Jimmy drove back to Lake Geneva to check in on police business. Georgia called LeJeune to find out if there was any news about her mom. Her call went to voicemail. She left a message. The minute she disconnected, another call came in.
“Georgia?” A female voice.
“Yes.”
“This is Dru Harrison, from the Northglen Police Department.”
The young woman O’Malley had delegated to help Georgia. O’Malley had told Georgia Dru reminded him of her when she was a new cop.
“Hey, Dru. What’s up?”
“I’ve been going over some video surveillance footage from the day your mom was kidnapped. You need to come over and take a look.”
It was a cold rainy day, the sort of April day that was supposed to bring May flowers, but Georgia was too focused on the video to care about the bone-chilling rain and leaden skies.
Dru met her in the lobby. “Glad you’re here. Let’s go back to the pit.” That was what they called the large room with cubicles for everyone on the Northglen force.
Video surveillance had changed since Georgia was a cop. She’d worked on a case where she’d taken video to a specialist who’d enhanced the quality of the images, using special tools on his Avid, plus a piece of software that, ten years earlier, was considered state of the art. That software was now standard on most computers, and anyone could use it to enhance images. Video itself now often came on a flash drive with a huge amount of memory instead of a reel with limited capacity, which meant images could be recorded at normal speed, instead of looking like awkward Charlie Chaplin movies.
Dru pulled an extra chair into her cubicle for Georgia and clicked on the triangle in the middle of her monitor.
The shot was taken in daylight from a camera across the street from JoBeth’s apartment building. It was slightly out of focus, but after Dru fiddled with a couple of filters, it looked clear. With a touch of another key, she was able to lighten the entire scene and sharpen the images in it. Georgia had no trouble seeing the sidewalk to the double glass entrance doors, even the chairs in the lobby. The evergreen trees outside flanking the doors were so sharp she could make out individual needles.
The time code on the video said 6:30 AM. What happened would occur several hours later.
“Let’s scroll ahead,” Dru said.
Georgia nodded.
Around 09:00 AM on the time code, Georgia saw Vanna carrying Charlie into JoBeth’s building. She came out a minute later, trotted back to Georgia’s Toyota in front of the building, and scooped up a few toys, a jacket for Charlie, and one of those plastic boards with letters of the alphabet on it.
“This is almost an out-of-body experience,” Georgia said softly. “It was only a few days ago but I remember I was in a rush to go somewhere. I don’t remember where now.”
Dru smiled. “Lots of people say that.” They fast-forwarded the video through the next few hours. Nothing much happened. The postman delivered the mail; half a dozen people came in and out, but nothing that caught undue attention from either Dru or Georgia.
The time rolled over to 13:12 hours, one twelve in the afternoon. “Okay. Watch,” Dru said.
About three minutes later, a black pickup passed in front of the building. It sailed out of frame. A minute later, it returned and passed the building again. The third time it slowed to a crawl.
Georgia leaned forward. “Oh my god. I think I know that truck!”
Dru sat up and flipped open a pad of paper. “What do you know?”
Georgia stared at the truck. “About ten days ago, my mother, sister, and I spent a weekend in Nauvoo.”
“Illinois?”
Georgia nodded. She was still gazing at the truck. “When we checked out, that truck was in the motel parking lot. The driver had a ball cap on, but he had a full black beard. I looked at him, and he looked back. I got the sense he recognized me—or he thought he did. But then he suddenly zoomed out of the parking lot.”
“Check out the video,” Dru pointed to the monitor.
The man who climbed out of the truck wore a ball cap pulled low across his forehead and a Covid mask that covered his nose and mouth. But Georgia noted a bristly black bush spilling out of the mask on the bottom. A beard.
“That’s him! That’s got to be the man I saw.”
“You sure?”
“He has a full beard. Zoom in on his mask, and you’ll see this guy has one too.”
Dru did what Georgia said. “Damn. You’re good.”
The man in the passenger seat, younger and slimmer, slid out too. He too was wearing a ball cap and a Covid mask. But the way he walked was familiar. “And that guy walks a lot like the asshole who tried to run me over.”
Dru pointed to the screen. “The guy with the beard. Do you know who he is?”
“I’ll bet he’s Eden’s husband.”
Dru made a note on the pad. “Watch.”
The two men, both wearing gloves, went to the bed of the truck, dropped the rear end, and retrieved a rolled-up carpet. Each man took one end, and they proceeded inside with the carpet.
Georgia sucked in a breath. “Are they really going to do it like that?”
Dru didn’t answer.
Fourteen minutes later, at one twenty-six, the men emerged from the apartment entrance. They were carrying the same rolled up rug, but it was a lot fatter than when they went in. The younger man was struggling under the weight.
“That’s it!” Georgia let out a cry. “They took JoBeth because they couldn’t find Eden.”
“It’s possible,” Dru said. “But how did they know where she lives?”
“They—at least the younger one—has been following me for days. He probably knows my routine better than I do. I bet they want to trade JoBeth for Eden.” Georgia slumped in her chair. “Why didn’t they just call me?”
“You know why,” Dru answered. “They probably figure your phone is tapped. Or that you could trace them. Or they were waiting for you to figure it out.”
Georgia stood and paced the length of Dru’s cubicle. “Or they want to kill me too.”
Dru stared at Georgia.
“Her husband must be up to speed on law enforcement procedure. He’s got to know we have him on video,” Georgia said.
“He may not care.”
“You’re right.” Georgia stopped pacing. “So what the fuck is he doing?”
“Fortifying his place. Getting the local cops or some militia pals involved. Getting ready for a fight. He’s Mormon, right?”
Georgia nodded. “Fundamentalist. They’re violent. Even establishment Mormons have cut ties with them.”
Dru shrugged. “Maybe they’ve got some kind of alliance with the local cops. Maybe the cops are Mormons. Maybe he was sure there would be video surveillance down here. In fact, maybe he was counting on it. Bottom line, he didn’t need to make a ransom call. He knew you’d see this video at some point. Meanwhile, he’s been biding his time. Getting ready for you.”
“For me to give Eden back to him? So he can kill her? And me?” Georgia ran a hand through her hair.
“Or he’s preparing for an ambush.”
“Crap. No matter what he does, we have huge targets on our backs.” Georgia started pacing again. “Jimmy told me we’d have to game it out. But I have no clue what to do.”
“There’s another problem,” Dru said.
“What’s that?”
“Well, even if he demands to get his wife back in exchange for your mother, right now you’ve got no one to trade.”