Jimmy left for Nauvoo before daybreak. LeJeune wanted to get in place and go over the terrain. Georgia figured he hadn’t slept at all. She’d studied Google maps for Christiansen’s house and saw it was in the middle of the woods fifteen miles from Nauvoo. Which was a problem, she realized. Her mother was likely being held somewhere else. Porter wouldn’t want her close to his wives and children. Which meant LeJeune’s SWAT team would need two setups a few miles apart. Depending on where they were keeping JoBeth.
A temporary babysitter Georgia had hired for Charlie arrived by eight and took him to a morning mom and toddler class. After she took Vanna to school, she paced around the apartment, feeling restless and resentful. She could have helped. Why had they shunted her to the side? Because she was a woman? LeJeune and Jimmy both knew she didn’t need their protection. She could put up a pretty tough fight.
Her cell chirped. LeJeune. “Davis…”
“Cher, I have a surprise for you. But you have to pick it up. Make sure no one’s following you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Go to Old Town. To Blackhawk. 423 West. It’s just east of Larrabee. Call me when
you’re inside.” He disconnected.
Georgia threw on a jacket, thrust her Glock in her blazer pocket without the holster, and jumped into her car to head downtown. Staying on surface streets, she passed lawns on the North Shore that had started seriously greening, and the first wave of early flowers was giving way to tulips, tree blossoms, and tight tiny buds that would unfurl into roses and peonies. Surface streets were normally faster than the expressway in rush hour; still, it took almost an hour to get there. She had a suspicion about what LeJeune’s “surprise” was; if so, this was going to be an interesting morning.
She parked across the street from a condo development and walked west down Blackhawk. Number 432 was an undistinguished townhouse that could have used a fresh coat of paint. A flower bed and shrubs struggled to grow on a postage-stamp lawn. Georgia mounted the steps and rang the bell. A moment later an intercom clicked on.
“Yes?” It was a husky voice. Georgia couldn’t tell whether it was male or female.
“Georgia Davis. Agent LeJeune told me to come here.”
The intercom clicked off and a moment later a woman in slacks, a loose top that probably hid her pistol, and no makeup answered the door. “She’s still asleep. Had a long day. And night.”
“Eden.” Georgia said.
The woman nodded.
“And you are?”
“Agent Summerfield.”
They shook hands.
“I’m about to make some coffee. You want?”
“Is the sky blue?”
The corners of the agent’s mouth turned up, and she went into the kitchen. A moment later, the familiar scent of coffee, which Georgia often thought was more tempting than its taste, wafted out. Agent Summerfield brought two mugs to a table in the kitchen and sat at one end.
Georgia sat on the side. Summerfield studied her.
“Well?”
“You do look just like her. I’ll bet her kids would even get confused.”
“That reminds me.” Georgia fished out her cell and called LeJeune. When he answered, she said, “Thanks. She’s still asleep.”
“Did you really think you weren’t gonna be part of this operation?”
“You sure play a lot of games, Agent LeJeune.” But she was smiling.
“It’s more fun that way, cher.” He laughed. “Anyway, see if she can figure out where they stashed your mother. And the best way to get her kids. We’ll need their names. Ages. Personalities. Whatever you can get.”
“Got it. Call you later.” Georgia slipped her cell back into her pocket and sipped her coffee. The sound of a toilet flushing told her Eden was up.
Georgia turned toward the staircase, her pulse racing. She was finally going to meet the woman who had upended her life over the past two weeks.