By the time they pulled into the motel parking lot, it was dark. Jimmy backed into one of the only spaces left in the lot, near the end of a row of cars. The only illumination came from inside the front office and a string of bulbs on the ceilings of the first and second floors.
“How is the SWAT team going to see Christiansen’s guys?”
“Most of the SWAT team have night vision on their rifles,” Jimmy said.
“That’s a relief.” She turned toward him. “What are you going to do?”
“Sneak to the back and size up what’s going on with your mother.”
She nodded. “I’ll stay here.”
He nodded. “I’m putting my cell on vibrate.”
“Pick it up if it does.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “If it gets too intense, take the van and get the hell out.” He climbed out of the van but left the keys in the ignition.
Georgia slid into the driver’s seat to watch.
LeJeune had exited the SWAT team van, which was now empty, and marched over to the front office. Raymond Benson, the man who’d tried to run her down in Evanston, was behind the desk. Georgia wanted to warn LeJeune. She assumed Benson had a gun in the drawer, but he didn’t seem concerned or even wary. Just bored. Either he was a better actor than she’d given him credit for, or he was missing a few brain cells.
She watched as LeJeune waved a hand and told him something.
Benson looked up at LeJeune with sleepy eyes, but she saw him take a step backward. A second later, a screaming fire alarm filled the air with vacillating waves of sound. LeJeune took out his pistol, and Benson raised his arms. LeJeune cuffed him, walked him out to the SWAT van, and loaded him inside.
But the damage was done. The fire alarm kept resonating, setting Georgia’s nerves on edge. LeJeune emerged from the SWAT van with a megaphone and shouted above the noise.
“This is the FBI. Stay in your room. If you’re not in a room, come down to the parking lot. I repeat. If you are in a room, stay there. Do NOT leave. If you are not in a room, come down and surrender to us. We will find you.”
Seconds later a shot was fired in LeJeune’s direction. It came from the second floor. Thankfully it missed. But it triggered a salvo of bullets from other rifles. LeJeune dropped to the ground and rolled underneath his van. Georgia could see him fishing his cell out of his pocket. She looked up at the second floor and saw three shooters positioned along the corridor. They had the light and, thus, the upper hand. She had no idea where the SWAT team was. But they had night vision so they could shoot in the dark. Could she somehow take out the lights?
She piled her hair on top of her head and pulled on Jimmy’s ball cap. First she snapped off the interior ceiling light. Then, very slowly, she emerged from the van. She needed to get to the front office and find the panel that would turn off the lights. Taking cover behind each parked car, she slowly made her way to the office. When she reached the parked car nearest the office, she ran hunched over for the office door. Bullets sprayed around her, but she wasn’t hit. She threw herself inside and crawled on her hands and knees to the counter and ducked behind it. The fire alarm was still blaring, and it was hard to think clearly. There had to be a master light switch. But where?
She took a few breaths to steady herself and studied the front office. Behind the counter was a small room with a battered desk, cracked and patched leather chair, and a tiny TV set. She crouched and duckwalked into the room. On the wall behind her was a panel of light switches. She flipped them all. The room and the entire front office went dark. She blew out a relieved breath. Then she stood up and approached the glass window. She’d done it. The outside lights in the motel corridors were off.
From her location, she saw bodies moving and commotion in back of the motel. She was at an angle and couldn’t see much, but she had the impression that men were climbing the stairs. But whose men? She stayed where she was, took out her Glock, and chambered a round. She’d stay where she was until she knew for sure.
Suddenly the barrage of bullets from the second floor down to the parking lot stopped. She hoped that by shutting off the lights, it had made Christiansen’s targets murky and indistinct. A series of shots rang out from the parking lot. They must have come from the SWAT team, who were now picking off Christiansen’s men on the second floor. She hoped they were hitting Christiansen’s pals, but the piercing fire alarm made it impossible to hear anything.
Her mother. What was happening to JoBeth? Was she being held here? Now that she was focusing on her mother, the emotion she’d kept bottled up while she was working on the Covid case began to spill out. They had to find her mother alive. She knew it was LeJeune and Jimmy’s prime mission. They were doing all they could, but this was her mother. The woman she now realized had become a much different person than when Georgia was a child. JoBeth had done the best she could, which wasn’t much, but she’d done a better job with Vanna than she had with Georgia. At least she hadn’t abandoned Vanna. Now she was a devoted grandmother to Charlie, a loving mom to Vanna, and she wanted to reunite with Georgia. Seems like she was capable of change. And if so, wasn’t it up to Georgia to give her that chance?
Georgia gazed out at the parking lot. The action had quieted down. Not only was the front office dark, but the neon sign for the motel was off. Georgia slipped out the door and crawled on her hands and knees toward the back of the motel. A row of bushes next to the office provided cover and she melted into them to take stock.
She had a much better view of the back of the motel from the bushes. The damn fire alarm was still shrieking, but she was acclimating to it. She stared up at the staircase. Jimmy and LeJeune were nowhere in sight, but she could see the figure of a man climbing up the stairs. Armed with a rifle, he stopped midway and turned around. She gasped. Even in the absence of light, she could see the man had a full beard. Porter Christiansen. What was he doing? Was he going after his stockpile of weapons or was he going for her mother?
He slowed as he got to the top of the stairs. One of his men was standing outside a room, a rifle over his shoulder. A guard. Christiansen waved him off, fished out a key from his pocket, and opened the door. He disappeared inside. Was JoBeth in there? Georgia held her breath, as if something big was about to happen. She considered storming the stairs and shooting, but the guard, his head swiveling in both directions, would pick her off. She would be a dead woman.
Where were Jimmy and LeJeune? Were they lying low? She couldn’t tell if anyone was taking cover on the ground, and that was a problem. Did Christiansen have men in the back of the motel, and were they covering their leader? If so, any move she made would end up in another fusillade of bullets. She tried to stay calm and focused, but her heart hammered in her chest, and her breath came in fast puffs of air.
The fire alarm abruptly cut out, and a loud silence displaced the shrill scream. Relief washed over Georgia. Maybe she’d pick up some conversation from Christiansen’s men. But just as the silence overwhelmed her, a loud thud clunked from upstairs. What was that?
The sounds of an altercation floated down the steps. A grunt that sounded like it came from a man, followed by a yell from a woman.
“I need help. NOW!”
JoBeth!
Another thump and howl from the man. Another scream. “Goddammit. Stay down, you asshole!” It was JoBeth.
Two figures raced up the stairs. She couldn’t see them clearly, but she knew they had to be Jimmy and LeJeune. The guard had his rifle ready, but either Jimmy or LeJeune aimed and shot him before he could get a round off. There was no additional shooting from the ground. If Christiansen’s men had been at the back of the motel, what happened to them? Jimmy and LeJeune ran into the second-floor room. Suddenly there was a lot of yelling, screams, and loud exclamations. Then one shot. Only one. Georgia recoiled in panic.
Shots finally did ring out from the back of the motel, but they came from a distance. Georgia guessed Christiansen’s men were trying to escape via the dirt road, but the SWAT team was taking them down. At least that part of the plan was working. The front of the motel was still quiet. And there were no more shots from the second floor.
Georgia stood up and quickly brushed the needles from the bushes off her jacket. She raced up the stairs, holding her gun in both hands in front of her. When she got to the top of the stairs, she whipped around and waited. No fire from any direction. The door to the room where the shouts were coming from was closed. She called out, “Davis. I’m coming in!” and kicked it open with her foot.
Inside the room was one of the strangest sights Georgia had ever seen. Porter Christiansen was on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back, his mouth taped over with duct tape. LeJeune was trying to stanch a wound in Christiansen’s leg with a towel, and Jimmy was in the bathroom washing off blood from her mother’s face.
“Mom!” Georgia cried and ran into the bathroom. “Are you all right? What the hell happened?”
JoBeth saw her in the bathroom mirror, turned around, and threw her arms around her daughter. Georgia reciprocated, and they stood locked together for a long moment. Then JoBeth said, “Georgia, I’m dripping blood all over you. Let me clean up.”
“But what happened? How long have you been here? How did they treat you? How did you get him on the floor?”
JoBeth turned back to the mirror and grinned. Georgia realized the blood was coming from her mouth. Somehow she’d lost her bottom tooth, and blood was flowing from the wound.
“What—what happened? Should we take you to the hospital?”
“On my god, Georgia,” her mother said firmly. “Calm down, sweetheart. I’m okay..”
Georgia’s mouth hung open.
“Your mother is one hell of a fighter,” Jimmy said.
“Will someone please tell me what the eff happened?”
Jimmy took some toilet paper, neatly folded it, and gave it to JoBeth. “Put this where the blood is. It’ll help until we get you to the ER.”
“Where’s your tooth, Mom?” Georgia asked.
“In my pants pocket.” JoBeth grinned.
LeJeune called from the other room. “Come out here, cher. I’ll explain.”
Georgia went into the big room. On the floor a few feet from Porter Christiansen was a steel towel rack. “What is this doing here?” Christiansen began to groan through the duct tape.
JoBeth called out. “Shut up, asshole.” She appeared at the bathroom door. “Sorry. That was meant for him.” She motioned toward Porter. “Let me explain, Agent LeJeune.” She turned to Georgia. “They had me tied up most of the time, but since I’m older than them I told them I had to pee a lot. Every time I came in here, I jiggled the towel rack on each end until finally I got it out from the wall. It took a while, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s cheap motels. I knew if I kept at it, I could get it. And I did. Right before the shooting started.”
“You’re kidding. Then what?”
“I hid it in the bathtub. When asshole here said we were leaving, I told him I had to pee. He wasn’t going to let me, but I told him it was either that or I’d piss all over his truck.
“He let me. I grabbed the rack, and when I came out, I started swinging.” JoBeth laughed. “He did get one good whack at my mouth, but I got him behind the knees, then on the back of his head. He went down.”
“I don’t believe it.” Georgia said.
“I sat on his back, but he bucked like a bronco. That’s when I yelled. I thought he was going to turn me upside down and lose all the momentum. That’s when you boys busted in. Jimmy shot him and put the tape across his mouth. Thank god.”
“That was unbelievable, Mom,” Georgia said. “You took him down by yourself?”
“Like I said, if it’s one thing I know, it’s cheap motels.”
“That was brilliant!” Georgia said in an awe-inspired voice.
Jimmy grinned. “Now I know where your daughter gets it from.”