The final count was three dead—all Christiansen’s men—six seized by the SWAT team, and Porter Christiansen wounded and detained. One SWAT team member was shot in the shoulder.
“Not too bad,” LeJeune said. “Well done, my friends.” He shook Jimmy’s hand, then hugged JoBeth. “And you, cher, get the blue ribbon for cunning and bravery in the line of fire.
We’ll debrief at the hospital. It’s gonna be a long night.”
LeJeune called the Hanover County Sheriff’s department, and they waited for them to arrive with ambulances and reinforcements.
“Did the Nauvoo police ever show up?” Georgia asked.
“Have you seen any Nauvoo police officers here?” LeJeune asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Neither have I.”
“Well, I guess we have our answer about their complicity,” Georgia said. “They had to have heard the fire alarm. People must have called in.”
“I’m sure of it. But dealing with them is above my pay grade. I’ll call Chesterton as soon as we have the kid.” He turned to Jimmy. “Tell you what. You deal with the sheriff and the wounded. I’ll go with Davis to Christiansen’s house and get the kid. Meet you at the hospital. Nearest one’s in Keokuk, Iowa.” He tapped his cell. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I’ll go with Georgia,” Jimmy offered.
“I’ll do it. Christiansen lives in the woods a few miles away. You deal with your brothers in blue.”
“Just a minute,” Georgia said. She went to her mother and embraced her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Mom.”
“I know that. Meanwhile, Jimmy will take care of me.” She looked over at him with a flirtatious smile.
“JoBeth,” LeJeune said. “You can’t have us both, cher. You have to decide.”
She arched her eyebrows and gazed at LeJeune, then Georgia.
Georgia tried to stay awake as she and LeJeune drove north to Porter Christiansen’s home. Her relief that the raid and the danger and the deaths were over had drained her. The stress of the day had played havoc with her emotions. Meeting Eden for the first time that morning seemed like a year ago. As did her impersonation of Eden at the school. All she wanted to do was collapse on her bed with Jimmy in her arms.
LeJeune, on the other hand, was wide awake and full of sardonic humor, one of his traits she disliked most. Still, aside from Jimmy, LeJeune was the best person to be with during a crisis. He was dependable, followed through on his promises, and yet was flexible enough to change direction without putting his team in jeopardy. She tried to ignore his verbal forays.
“So the rumor is the kid has Covid,” LeJeune said. “Can’t get away from this shit, can we?”
“Poor little guy has been separated from everyone for days. He’s got to be feeling lonely. Christiansen’s first wife is supposed to be looking out for him. But you never know.”
“What? You think the woman will abuse him because he’s not her biological child?”
Georgia shook her head. “No. Because Porter’s gone and he’s not coming back anytime soon. She could take it out on him.”
“Davis, do you really think people are that cruel?”
Georgia had to glance at his ironic smile before she realized he was playing her.
“The way I hear it, the most important thing in a Mormon’s life is family,” LeJeune said.
Georgia sighed as he pulled the van up to the door and killed the engine. “You sure we’re okay to go in, just the two of us?”
“I’m willing to wager my next paycheck she already knows what happened at the motel. The Mormon phone tree has got to be lit tonight. She might need a little persuasion, but it shouldn’t be too hard for her to let him go.” He paused. “One less mouth to feed. Especially since he’s not hers.”
He went up to a rough-hewn wood door and knocked. “Mrs. Christiansen, it’s the FBI. We’d like to talk to you.”
There was no response. After thirty seconds, LeJeune repeated himself. Still no answer.
LeJeune glanced at Georgia.
“Her first name is Ada,” Georgia said.
“Ada? This is the FBI. We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to talk.”
This time there was a response. “Get the hell off our property!”
“Well, now, that’s more like it,” LeJeune said to Georgia. “Your turn.”
Georgia took in a breath. “Ada, this is Georgia Davis, the woman who looks like Eden. All we want to do is check on Elijah. I give you my word. Please open the door.”
“Go away. You done enough harm to us.”
Georgia shrugged and tried again. “We have no reason to detain you. We want to see if Elijah is ill. If he is, we’ll get a doctor to check him out.” And a Covid test, she thought.
“Elijah’s fine.”
“I believe you, but we really have to see for ourselves. Then we’ll leave.”
There was silence behind the door. Then they heard a lock turn. The door opened an inch or two, something poked out, and they were staring down the barrel of a shotgun.
Georgia and LeJeune exchanged glances. LeJeune unholstered his pistol. Georgia raised her palm. “Ada, please put the shotgun down. There are only two of us, and we don’t want trouble.”
The shotgun didn’t move for a full thirty seconds. Then it slowly withdrew from the doorway, and the door opened. A round woman with long dark hair, wearing a long skirt and sweater on top, held the raised shotgun aimed at their faces.
Georgia raised both her arms in surrender. “Hello, Ada. I’m Georgia. And this is Agent LeJeune. Could you put the gun down now, please?”
Ada didn’t move.
Georgia’s spirits sank. This was not what she’d hoped for when they set out to get Elijah.
“Okay. I can’t make you put it down, but I do need to see Elijah. If he really does have Covid, you and your children have been exposed. At the very least, your entire family needs to get tested and then get the vaccine.”
“That’s what you government folks want us to believe, ain’t it? ’Cept we already know this Covid scare is a big lie. We don’t want no vaccines. How do we know it won’t put crazy strange things in our blood? Change us in some way so we’ll never be the same? I hear the stories, and believe you me, I’ll never let my kids get that poison.” She scoffed. “Why do you think it’s free?”
Georgia paused before answering. No sense trying to argue with a shotgun aimed at her head. “You may be right,” she said. “But can we talk without the rifle pointed at us? All we want to do is see Elijah.”
“How’d they make you look just like Eden?” Ada asked. “Plastic surgery?”
“No, ma’am. Just the way I was born.”
Ada frowned but loosened her grip on the shotgun. “Oh, come on. I know they did somethin’ to you. Unless you’re her twin sister.”
“I’m not. And no one did anything to me. But everyone thinks I’m her.”
“Your voice is different.”
“I agree.”
“And your clothes.”
“Right again. That should prove to you I’m not Eden.”
“Never did like her much. Uppity. You know what I mean?”
Georgia nodded.
“Thought she knew it all.”
“I can see that,” Georgia said.
Ada nodded with a knowing expression. “All right. You can come in and see Elijah. He’s back here. But just for a minute.” She carried the shotgun with her. “You too, Mister Agent.”
LeJeune nodded and followed the women to a small room off the living room. The door was closed. Ada opened it. The little boy was asleep on a small sofa. Georgia went to him. He had dark hair, and like the other children, looked thin. On his face were about a dozen spots that were pinkish red.
“Oh!” Georgia said, surprised. “He’s got chicken pox. Not Covid.”
“How do you know that?” Ada said.
“Look at the spots on his face. Every kid gets chicken pox.”
“My children didn’t.”
“They will now,” Georgia said. “You must have heard about chicken pox. It’s very contagious.”
Ada looked confused. She ran her tongue around her lips. “But is it serious? Is he going to die?”
“No. Not at all. He’s going to want to scratch those spots, though. They’ll itch like crazy. But they eventually go away. Give it a week or so.”
Georgia kept her voice at a normal volume deliberately, hoping the noise would wake the boy up. A moment later, he thrashed a little, rolled over, and slowly opened his eyes. When he focused on Georgia, his eyes widened. “Mama!”
Georgia didn’t have the heart to tell him she wasn’t Eden. “Hello, Elijah. It’s so good to see you!”
Elijah threw out his arms. “Mama, you’re home!”
Georgia went closer and let him hug her tight. LeJeune, who’d stayed by the door, turned and left the room. Georgia wondered why he was doing that. Ada spun around and hurried out to follow him.
Georgia sensed trouble. “Nick. Come back. Ada, don’t do anything. He—he just doesn’t want to get chicken pox. Nick? Come back in.”
Ada poked her head back into the bedroom. “You’re lyin’ to me. He’s the government. And he hates us Fundamentalists. Porter said so. Before he left he told me what to do if he didn’t come back.” She hurried back into the living room with the shotgun.
Georgia disengaged herself from Elijah. “Hold on, sweetheart. I have to go back in the other room for a second. I’ll be right back.”
Before she could reach them, a blast from the shotgun shattered the quiet and echoed through the house. Elijah screamed. Or was it Georgia? She never knew. All she did know was that when she made it back into the living room, LeJeune was on the floor, a gaping hole in his abdomen gushing out blood.
She ran and knelt beside him. “Nick. Nick! Stay with me!” He looked at her, blinking fast. “Please. I’m calling 911. Just stay with me. It’ll only take a minute.”
She fumbled for his phone, which she’d seen him slip into his pocket when he tapped it at the motel. She had her fingers curled around his cell when she felt his hand grasp hers. She turned back to him. The look in his eyes was pure love. For her. The most beatific kind of love. The kind that knows there is no future.
Georgia felt her face crumple. Her eyes filled. “No! No! You can’t. You can’t die. Stop. Nick. Please!”
He was still gazing at her, but his expression changed. There was still love, but there was something else as well: resignation. She clutched his hand and held it as tight as she could. A moment later his eyes closed, and his hand went limp.
Her tears began to flow. Georgia thought she’d never be able to stop crying.