Free Nobody's Child (Georgia Davis Series) by Libby Fischer Hellmann Page B

the frigging deputy superintendent. What kind of trouble would you be in?”
    He ignored her question. “Of course we could remedy that anytime.”
    “How?”
    “Come back on the force, and we’ll be kosher.”
    “You’re dreaming, rabbi.”
    “I’m trying.” He paused, and when she didn’t add anything, he cleared his throat. “Okay. Another thing. The dicks working the case will know I requested the report. I’m gonna have to give them something.”
    “There’s no chance I could talk to them?”
    “You just keep pushing, don’t you?”
    “It’s my job.”
    “No, you can’t speak to them. And you can’t use my name. I’ll get you the report after I get it. And after you take a look, you’ll tell me why you wanted it.”
    “Sure,” she said brightly.
    “Oh, and by the way. I don’t want to hear about a PI up in McHenry County who just happened to run into the detectives working the crime scene.”
    “No way, Chief.”

Chapter 20
    I t took more than an hour to get to Harvard. The day had clouded over, and layers of dirty gray sky threatened to match her mood. She drove west on Route 173 through the center of Harvard, then to its outskirts, where she passed farms and snow-covered fields. She almost missed the crime scene, which appeared like a Hollywood set that had materialized on the prairie.
    Three patrol cars, all different colors except for their flashing red and blue Mars lights, two vans, yards of police tape strung on one side of the road, and about a dozen people in padded coats and gloves, all looking important. She drove past the scene, then turned around and inched back. She wasn’t making herself scarce, she rationalized. She just didn’t want to attract attention. She parked a hundred yards away and headed over, making sure she stood far enough away for the cops to think she was a gaper.
    One of the cruisers was black and white and was emblazoned with the Harvard, Illinois, PD logo. The Boone County Sheriff’s Department cruiser was black with a yellow stripe, and the third, a black cruiser with both yellow and red stripes, looked like a lame version of the Batmobile. She could just make out “Walworth County Sheriff’s Department” on the side. She tried to figure out which officer belonged to which force, but in their winter gear they all looked the same. One of the vans said “Illinois State Police” on it, and the other was from the Walworth County Coroner’s Office. They had to be tussling over jurisdiction. Whoever had the body would have the power. She craned her neck trying to see if the corpse was still on the road, but the crowd of officers obscured her view.
    She stamped her feet and rubbed her hands in the bitter cold, remembering O’Malley’s warning not to cause trouble. Finally, after about twenty minutes, the coroner’s van drove off, passing her on the road. The body must be inside. Shit. She’d really wanted a glimpse of it up close. Not that she’d know who she was looking at. But she could have taken a photo unobtrusively with her iPhone. A few minutes after the coroner’s van left, the Walworth County Sheriff’s cruiser pulled out, also passing her. Two officers sat in the front. She was about to go back to her car when the cruiser slowed, stopped, and backed up.
    When it was abreast of her, the passenger window rolled down, and a male voice called out. “Aren’t you Georgia Davis?”
    Georgia reeled back, surprised. She hunched her shoulders against the cold. “Who—who wants to know?”
    A chuckle. The cop was smiling. “You don’t recognize me?”
    She squinted. He looked familiar but she couldn’t place him. He was wearing shades. Straight dark hair, receding from his forehead. Pale skin. Thin face. Bundled up in a down coat. She shook her head.
    “I’m Jimmy Saclarides, Lake Geneva police chief. You were here a couple years ago at Luke Sutton’s house. We met.”
    A wave of memories washed over her. Molly Messenger’s kidnapping. Her