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

raised his voice above the whine of the engine. “Man—I mean lady—you can’t do this.”
    She smiled. “And that’s because…”
    “Look. I like it here. Got a new girlfriend. Place to live. Steady job. Know what I mean?”
    “I do. Like I said, too bad.” She flipped up the locks on the door. “Time’s up. I gotta make a call.”
    He blew out a breath. “Wait.”
    She looked over. His expression deepened from worry to fear. A real fear. She could smell it.
    “I’ll—I’ll tell you. It’s just—well—I don’t like those people.”
    For the first time in their conversation, the guy looked like he was telling the truth. In fact, he might have shivered when he said the word “people.”
    “What people?”
    He shook his head. “Don’t know who they are. Or what they’re doing. And I don’t want to.”
    “Show me, Bruce.”

Chapter 26
    G eorgia followed Kreisman and the Bennymobile into the bowels of the South West Loop. The police academy wasn’t far away; as a cadet, she’d come down here every day. But the area had changed since then. Sandwiched between the Loop to the east and the UIC campus to the south, it had been a commercial zone. Now, though, neat, one-story warehouses stood where decaying buildings and the accompanying detritus once were. Cheerful signs for Home Depot, Best Buy, Whole Foods, and even a bank or two loomed overhead.
    She followed Kreisman through a warren of industrial streets with so many dead ends, twists, and turns that she wondered whether he was leading her in circles. Eventually, though, he pulled up to a small, tidy warehouse with a large sliding garage door and driveway in front. The door was shut tight, and there were no trucks or cars on the driveway. There weren’t even any swirls of graffiti on the walls. No lights inside; no figures moving around. When the wind gusted, a screen door on the side of the building flapped and banged against a door. But the deep silence between the gusts gave it the feel of a place that had been abandoned.
    Kreisman parked a few yards down. Georgia did too and climbed out of her Toyota. Kreisman stayed in his Hyundai, his gaze flicking warily from the warehouse to Georgia, then back. She went over and motioned him to roll down his window.
    “That’s the place.” He yanked a thumb toward the warehouse.
    She scanned the building’s perimeter. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s here.”
    “I can’t help that,” he snapped.
    Georgia frowned. Was he setting her up? She was supposed to have the leverage here. “You sure this is where you saw a pregnant woman with blond hair?”
    He nodded.
    “When?”
    “Maybe ten days ago. The last delivery I made.”
    “Just the one woman? Or were there others?”
    He shrugged.
    “Come on, Bruce, you’ve gotta give me more.”
    “It’s—it’s none of my business.” He hesitated. “Listen, man, I mean lady. I did what you wanted. I gotta split.”
    Georgia backed off. Something about this place was freaking him out. “How often did you deliver here?”
    “Like I said, maybe once or twice a week. Until last week.”
    “Big orders?”
    “They were okay.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “You know, five or six sandwiches. They ordered a lot of soup.”
    “Drinks?”
    “Naw. Just food.”
    “What else?”
    He scowled at her. “What do you mean?”
    She leaned into the car. “What else can you tell me about the place and the people?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Well, someone had to give you money when you gave them their food. Who? Describe them.”
    “I never got a good look.” His knee started to pump up and down.
    She folded her arms.
    He blew out a breath. “Okay, so this guy would meet me outside.”
    “What guy?”
    “I don’t know. Kind of stocky. Short hair.”
    “White?”
    He nodded. “Spoke with a thick accent.”
    “What kind?”
    “Russian maybe?”
    Georgia arched her eyebrows. “You sure?”
    “How the hell—I dunno. Maybe he was a Polack or