“Do what you can, Rose. And thanks.”
He found Dina seated near the fireplace, a glass of red wine in front of her, a thick New York strip bleeding onto her plate.
“This is a pretty good steak,” she said, “and if you don’t mind, I’d just as soon enjoy it alone.”
“You told me my family’s safe. You lied.”
“Oh?”
“My wife’s missing. She went to meet Jacoby and hasn’t come back.”
“Does she have a cell phone?”
“She’s not answering it.”
“What about Ben?”
“No answer there, either.”
“Did you try his townhouse?”
“I don’t have that number.”
With an exaggerated effort, she reached into her purse and brought out a pen and a small notepad on which she wrote two phone numbers. “The first number is his townhouse, the second is his home in Winnetka.”
“Thank you.”
Cork stepped away from the table and tried the numbers. He didn’t get an answer at either of them, but he left messages saying basically “Where the hell is Jo?” He turned back and found Dina watching him. Her steak was getting cold.
“What now?” she asked.
“I’m going down there.”
“How?”
“Driving, I guess.”
“Long drive alone.”
“At this point, it’ll be just as fast as trying to get a flight out of Duluth or the Twin Cities.”
“How much sleep have you had?”
“Thanks for your help,” he said grudgingly, and turned to leave.
“Wait.” She wiped her mouth carefully with her napkin. “I’ll go with you.”
“I don’t need-”
“You try driving to Chicago alone right now and you’ll be a danger to yourself and everyone else on the road.” She stood up. “You know what I’m saying is true. If you want to get to Chicago in one piece, let me help.”
The weight on him felt enormous. Worry, sleeplessness, a long drive in the night with only his fear and uncertainty for company. He knew she was right, but didn’t trust her motives.
“Look,” she said. “Whether you believe it or not, I’ve always been on your side. And think about it. If I’m riding shotgun, am I going to shoot you while you’re going seventy?”
He gave in because her logic was sound, and he knew he needed help to get to Chicago.
“Give me a few minutes to change and I’ll meet you in the lobby,” she said.
While she was gone, he called Rose and told her he was coming. She didn’t try to argue him out of it. He instructed her to call the area hospitals in the meantime.
He phoned Ed Larson at home and filled him in.
“You really think there’s reason to be concerned, Cork?”
On a normal day, maybe not, but Cork couldn’t remember the last day his life felt normal.
“I’m going, Ed. That’s all there is to it.”
“We’ll hold down the fort here. Keep me posted.”
Dina came down dressed for business-black jeans, black sweater, black sneakers, and a black windbreaker. A large black purse hung over one shoulder.
“Let’s do it,” she said, and hit the door ahead of him.
Cork glanced at his watch. It was almost nine o’clock. He figured if the roads stayed dry, if a cop didn’t pull him over for speeding, if he didn’t hit a deer, he’d be in Evanston in just under eight hours.
A lot of ifs.
They didn’t talk much at first. Cork kept hoping his cell phone would chirp any minute and it would be Rose with word that Jo was fine and there was a good explanation for her disappearance. What that explanation would be, he couldn’t imagine. Maybe her cell phone battery had died, although that was not like her. Why didn’t Jacoby answer his phones?
“You have connections on the Evanston police force?” he asked Dina.
They were outside Duluth, heading over the bridge on the interstate into Superior, Wisconsin.
“I have connections on every police force.”
“How about calling to check out accidents with injuries.” He waited a beat, then added, “Or fatalities.”
She talked to a guy she called Red, shot the breeze for a minute, then ran her request past him. She gave him Jo’s name, the car make and license plate number, which Cork fed to her. It didn’t take but a minute for Red to respond. Nothing involving Jo or even an unidentified victim. So far, it had been a quiet night in Evanston.
“How about Winnetka?” Cork said when she’d completed the call. “You know the cops there?”
“Couple.”
“Think you can get them to send a patrol to Ben Jacoby’s place?”
“What’ll I tell them?”
“That some fuckhead rich bastard thinks he owns the universe and everyone in it.”
“What’ll I tell them?”
Cork let out a breath that momentarily fogged the windshield in front of him. “That there’s an emergency, and Ms. O’Connor needs to be contacted and we believe she’s at the Jacobys’, who aren’t answering their phone. You can embellish as you see fit.”
She did a nice job of embellishing and got a promise that a patrol car would swing by. It was, apparently, a quiet night in Winnetka, too.
“Today, after we came out of the Boundary Waters, did you give Jacoby an update?” Cork asked.
“That’s part of what he pays me for.”
“So at this point, he knows everything?”
“Everything we know.”
“Is there anything you know that I don’t?”
“Nothing that would help right now.”
“Do you think Jacoby knows anything that would help right now?”
“Ben Jacoby always knows more than he tells.”
She was quiet, staring out the window as the empty streets of Superior slid by. It was an old port town on the harbor, and its glory days were a memory. In the daylight, everything about the place seemed gray. At night, it looked even worse.
“When I told him about the Fineday girl’s recollection of the night Eddie was murdered, something happened. I could hear it in his voice.” Dina seemed to be addressing the door window, or her own faint reflection in it.
“What did you hear?”
“Like lock tumblers clicking into place. I think he put something together.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. But he told me I was done in Aurora.”
“Except for killing me, if you wanted the contract?”
In her seat, she pivoted toward him angrily. “Just who the hell have you been talking to about me?”
“A reliable source.”
“Let me guess. One of my colleagues in the security business.”
“Someone I trust.”
“Who repeated shit he knows nothing about.”
