A stack of storm clouds battled the setting sun as Georgia drove to Christine Messenger’s house Thursday evening. Despite the weather, neighborhood kids were still outside pedaling furiously on tricycles, bikes, and toy cars. Two girls glided down the sidewalk on skates. Carefree shouts echoed up and down the street. The cheerful scene tugged at her, but she pushed it away. It was all an illusion. Lurking beneath the surface of the suburbs were demons every bit as dangerous as those in the back alleys of Chicago.
Ellie Foreman was waiting outside the Messenger house, waving away mosquitoes. She looked worried. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Georgia. I appreciate it.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she needed help fast. That something bad had happened. She sounded terrified.”
Georgia raised her eyebrows. She wouldn’t have pegged Messenger as the type to panic.
“Look,” Foreman slid her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I promised my family I wouldn’t get involved. But—if there is something you can do...” her voice trailed off. “Of course, that’s your decision.”
Georgia hesitated. “I’m not sure I’d take the case.”
“Why not?”
“Because nothing about this makes any sense.”
“You mean the kidnapping?”
Georgia nodded. “We don’t have the whole story, you know that. And—I don’t trust her.”
“Well, maybe that’s why she called me. Look, I know you have more pressing things to do, Georgia, but I—”
Georgia cut her off. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Christine Messenger answered the door. If anything, she looked worse than the first time they’d met. Her skin was ashen, her expression haggard, and her hair looked like she’d been pulling at it. “Thank you for coming—again.”
“It’s okay,” Foreman said soothingly. “We’re glad you called.”
Georgia kept her mouth shut.
Christine led them into the living room. The approaching storm had lengthened the shadows, and the room looked dark and brooding. She turned on some lamps. “Molly’s in the kitchen on her computer,” she said. “I keep it there so I can keep an eye on what she’s surfing.”
Georgia sat on a couch upholstered in blue brocade. Foreman took a matching armchair. Christine put herself in another chair and gripped the arms. Her knuckles were white.
“Something horrible has happened.”
“What?” Foreman asked.
“I told you that I work at Midwest National Bank, right?”
“You’re the director of IT,” Georgia said.
“Right. Well, my boss is the COO. The Chief Operating Officer. He—he died this morning.”
Surprise streaked across Foreman’s face. “My god. What happened?”
“His car smashed into the back of a truck on the Eisenhower.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”
Christine swallowed. “The thing is, well, I don’t think it was an accident.”
Georgia leaned forward. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he called me at home last night. He told me we had to talk first thing this morning. That it was critical. So I went in early, but he never showed up. And then, when I heard about the accident, well, it seemed too coincidental. I think something else is going on, and I’m scared.”
“What do you mean ‘something else’?” Georgia asked.
“It just—well...” Messenger looked down at her hands.
“Do you think there’s a connection to Molly’s kidnapping?” Foreman cut in.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe.”
“What do you want us to do?” Foreman asked.
“I think I need protection. I—I feel vulnerable.” She looked at Georgia.
Georgia blew out a breath. “Lady, until you come clean about what happened to Molly, we—I can’t do anything.”
“What do you mean, ‘come clean’?” She looked over, but her face didn’t register much.
Georgia frowned. “You may think you pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, but this—situation—never made any sense. First off, there’s no proof Molly was ever actually abducted. You won’t let the cops talk to her, and—”
A suspicious look came over Messenger. “How do you know that?”
“That’s not important. What is important is that I don’t know who you are and why you’re doing this. For all I know, you are a sick woman who needs help.”
Messenger drew herself up. “You have no right to talk to me like this.”
“That may be,” Georgia said. “But you have no right to expect me to help you. I’m a private investigator, not a baby-sitter. Hire yourself a bodyguard. As for your boss...” she paused. “Maybe he was on his cell and wasn’t paying attention.”
Georgia got up and started toward the door. She avoided looking at Foreman; she knew Foreman would be upset, but she knew she was right. The whole thing smelled. She was almost at the door when a little girl ran into the room.
“Mommy, Mommy... Guess what? I just got eight out of eight on a movie quiz! Come see, come see!” She grabbed her mother’s arm.
Christine Messenger’s countenance shifted from anguish to smiles so quickly Georgia couldn’t believe she was looking at the same woman. “You did? What quiz is that?”
“It was on the internet, and...”
The child stopped abruptly as if she’d just realized Georgia and Ellie were there. Georgia studied her. Her red-brown braids were tied with green ribbons. She had frank blue eyes, pale eyelashes, and a button nose. Freckles splayed across a round face, and rosy patches glowed on her arms and legs where she’d been out in the sun. She was wearing a pink tank top and green shorts, which she kept hitching up.
“Sorry, Mommy, I didn’t know you had company.” The way she emphasized the word made Georgia think Christine had instructed Molly never to interrupt when “company” was in the house. Georgia’s own mother, all Southern gentility and courtesy, had done the same thing. “A lady never interrupts,” she would say in the soft, lilting voice Georgia could almost remember. She looked away. She hadn’t seen her mother since she was twelve.
“Is it that movie quiz on Kids’ Facebook?” Foreman interjected.
The little girl’s eyes grew wide. “How did you know?”
“My daughter loved that website, too.” Foreman laughed.
“You have a daughter?” Molly asked eagerly. “How old is she?”
“Eighteen.”
“Oh.” Molly looked crestfallen. Eighteen had to be tantamount to fifty in her mind. “I’m only eight.”
“I know.” Ellie looked at Messenger, but the woman made no move to introduce them. “Molly, I’m Ellie Foreman...” She gestured toward Georgia. “And this is Georgia Davis. We’re—friends with your Mom.”
“Georgia...” Molly turned to Georgia. “Like the state?”
Georgia nodded. “Ever hear of Georgia peaches?”
Molly looked unsure. “I don’t know.”
Ellie laughed. “Well, that’s just peachy. Just like Georgia.”
When Molly giggled, Georgia couldn’t help smiling.
• • •
“I’m still not sure what I can do, Ellie,” Georgia said.
They were outside a few minutes later. Night had fallen, and the street was now deserted. The wind had picked up, carrying the scent of rain. Crickets chirred nervously.
“Then why’d you tell Chris you’d look into it?”
“It was the kid. She—” Georgia stopped, not exactly sure where she was going. Once Molly had skipped into the room, it was hard not to be taken with her. In fact, the girl had forced Georgia reassess the mother. If Christine had raised a kid like that, maybe she wasn’t such a train wreck.
“I get it,” Foreman said. “I know you have a thing for kids. Especially girls.”
Was it that obvious? She’d spent years building her shell, making sure people couldn’t ferret out her secrets. But Foreman knew more about her than most.
“Look, I admit,” Foreman went on, as if what she’d said was common knowledge and not even that significant, “the whole thing sounds weird, coming right after the kidnapping. But it’s clear Christine is scared. And I keep thinking what I would do if Rachel had been kidnapped.” She looked over at Georgia. “You know what I mean?”
Georgia cut in. “You’re forgetting something else.”
“What’s that?”
“The woman didn’t offer to pay me. I’m doing this on my own time and my own dime. Don’t expect much.”
Georgia was being hard. She had to be. Foreman might be led by a soft heart or the pursuit of justice, but Georgia couldn’t afford those impulses. She had to make a living.
Foreman’s tone cooled. “In that case, Georgia, just forget it. I can make a few calls. I know O’Malley, too.” She hiked her bag further up her shoulder and turned towards her Volvo.
Georgia watched her take a few steps, then called out, “Wait.”
Foreman spun around.
“O’Malley’s not going to know anything. The accident happened on the Eisenhower. It’s the Illinois State Police you need to talk to.”
Foreman cocked her head.
Georgia blew out a breath. “Shit. I’ll call around and see if there’s an accident report. But that’s it.”
Ellie smiled.
“And I probably won’t know anything for a few days. When there’s a fatal, they do a pretty thorough investigation.”
“Thanks, Georgia. You’re doing a real mitzvah.”
“I’m not doing it for you.”
“I know,” Foreman said.
A few fat drops of rain spattered the sidewalk. “Go home and give Rachel a hug.”