“What are you doing, honey?” Janet turned off the television that was usually playing just to provide background noise. Neither she nor Gail watched TV on a regular basis since their recent tasks occupied a good portion of their free time and were far more satisfying.
The chair screeched against the tile as Janet pulled it out and took a seat at the table. She cozied up to her daughter’s left shoulder and stared at the laptop.
Janet kept her voice just above a whisper—the walls were thin in their temporary apartment space. “Looking for a different park?”
Gail nodded with a look of determination. “There are hundreds in the Chicagoland area. That’s for sure. Three months here and then I’ll transfer somewhere south during the wintertime. We won’t miss a beat.”
“Any park in particular come to mind for Mr. Hennessey?” She glanced over her shoulder at the unconscious man tied to the iron radiator.
Gail pointed at Washington Park. “It’s close by, it’s large, has a lot of entry points, and plenty of tree cover. It’ll do just fine, but you have to keep up, Mom.”
Janet rubbed her hands together then lit a cigarette. “I will. I promise. When are we going to make the drop?”
“I only work a half shift today, so late tonight would be the smartest. Law enforcement will still be preoccupied with the Bixler Park situation. Don’t forget, to be the most effective, we have to hit quickly, and then when the cops think they have it figured out and start surveilling all the parks in their district, we’ll go to parks in a different area.”
“Maybe we should change it up altogether and dump the men in a vacant building or something of that nature.”
“Maybe, but let’s see how this goes before rushing to change things. Remember, this isn’t our first rodeo.” Gail tucked her mother’s stray hairs behind her ear and noticed a Band-Aid around Janet’s finger. “What happened there?”
Janet brushed invisible crumbs off the tablecloth as she dismissed the question. “It’s nothing. Just a small cut, and I needed to stop the bleeding. You know my blood is thin.” She rose from her chair and walked to the sink, where the pruning shears lay. “Got to give these a good scrubbing. Can’t mix blood from man to man.”
After following Janet to the sink, Gail plugged the drain and filled the bowl with hot soapy water. “We’ll let that soak for a bit, but your comment about changing things has made me think about our process.”
With the teapot in hand, Janet returned to the table and filled both cups. “What do you have in mind?”