We left the Dawson home and headed directly to Sherry Lyman’s house, which was within walking distance of my own. Luckily, she was still home and hadn’t left yet for her part-time job.
We reviewed her original statement with her and needed to know if anything had changed, if she was mistaken about any details, or if any new memories had surfaced. She said that what she had explained during the first interview was accurate and fresh in her memory at that time.
“Sherry, do you remember the bartender that Valerie was seeing briefly a few years back? She dumped him when she found out he was engaged. A Marlon or something like that?”
She nodded. “Yep, I remember that jerk. His name was Marten, with an e—Marten Hambrecht—and he said he was Dutch. He bartended at Delilah’s for a year and totally thought he was hot shit.”
I jotted the name down on the back of the folder containing Sherry’s original statement.
“That must have been after you ladies all turned twenty-one,” Rue said.
“It was, and we wanted to go out, party, and see how it felt to do exactly what we wanted to do legally. We were all of age.”
I smiled. “Yep, reaching twenty-one is a big deal.”
Sherry huffed. “I think it’s way overrated. What it means is that you’re legally of age to do whatever you want, but that comes with a lot of responsibility too.”
“No truer words,” Rue said.
“Did Val and Marten part ways on a bad note?” I asked.
“Yeah, and then his fiancée broke up with him. He was really pissed, but he brought it on himself.”
“We hear he moved to Oregon,” I said. “Has he ever come back to Savannah that you know of?”
She frowned as if she was thinking. “No, not to my knowledge anyway.”
“And the fiancée lived in Port Wentworth?”
“Yes, with her sister.”
“Do you know if the sister or the fiancée still lives there, and their names?”
“I never met either of them, but Val heard that the fiancée’s name was Patrice Doocy.”
“Okay, great. So nobody else who strikes you as weird that you forgot to mention?”
“No, and nobody creeped us out that night either. I don’t think it was anyone from the bar scene who killed Val, though.”
“Why do you say that?” Rue asked.
Sherry pulled a tube of lip balm from her pocket and ran it across her lips. “Just a gut feeling. It was a regular night at all three bars. Nothing was off until after we parted ways for the night.”
“Then I guess that’s it for now.” I turned toward the door. “Oh, by the way, do you know anyone who owns a white van?”
She wrinkled her forehead. “No, can’t say that I do.”
“Okay, thanks again, and we appreciate your help. We’ll show ourselves out.”
Back at the cruiser, Rue flashed a raised brow at me.
“What?”
“I thought the white van theory was a dead issue.”
“It still doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“Whatever. So are we going to hit Sparky’s or look for the ex-fiancée?”
I checked the time. “Sparky’s doesn’t open until noon. Let’s head to the precinct, look up that Marten character, and see if he has any priors. Oregon is a long way off to jump to conclusions.”
Rue called Bentley and set his phone to Speaker as I drove. “Anything on the footage that you caught now but missed days ago?”
“Nope. There isn’t a damn thing that stands out. In my opinion, we’re spinning our wheels, but don’t tell Royce I said that. How about you guys?”
“We got one name from Valerie’s parents. Not sure if he’s worth investigating or not. We’ll see if he has any priors first and then take it from there.” Rue hung up and looked at me. “If that Marten guy isn’t worth checking out, then we’re back to having nothing, and I’m sure it’ll be the same with LeAnn. Is there anything Royce would consider airing on TV?”
I shook my head. “We don’t have a perp profile, a motive, or a vehicle to tell the public about. You know damn well Royce’s next move will be that FBI profiler, and I just don’t know how much he can help.”
“Well, that’s Royce’s call, but when it’s all said and done, we’ll be the ones who solve this case.”
I chuckled. “I like your optimism.”
“Not optimism. It’s just based on facts. We’re working this investigation every hour, not them. The FBI doesn’t have a dog in this fight and won’t unless there’s proof that the organs are being sold and transported over state lines. Right now, there’s no proof that either is happening. It’s highly unlikely that the FBI is the agency who will find that out.”
I frowned. “Sounds like the FBI leaves a bad taste in your mouth.”
He swiped away my comment. “Nah, just don’t take the credit when no credit is due.”
I parked in our lot, and we entered the building. “Now, let’s find out who Marten Hambrecht really is.”
I was grasping at straws and knew it. The likelihood of an ex-boyfriend murdering Valerie was small. He’d had a brief relationship with her and moved across the country two years back. The only thing that could set someone like him off was the fact that his fiancée had dumped him when she found out he was cheating. Maybe there was some potential financial gain to marrying her that had gone up in smoke, yet the fact that he was cheating also meant the fiancée didn’t hold a high place in his heart. Killing LeAnn, too, wouldn’t make sense at all. She didn’t have anything to do with him, his fiancée, or Valerie.
Like Bentley said, we were spinning our wheels. We couldn’t force our narrative to become fact, but we would look up Marten’s name in the criminal database anyway. I was sure he would be checked off our list before lunchtime.
First, I typed his full name into the Savannah police records to see if he’d ever been arrested locally, and he hadn’t. After that, I searched the nationwide criminal database, which quickly eliminated his name—he was nowhere to be found in the system. Marten Hambrecht wasn’t our man.
I was disappointed but not surprised. I wouldn’t bother mentioning Marten to Royce since he’d already thought we were wasting time when I suggested tracking down the organ traffickers who were arrested in 2007.
Leaning back in my chair, I let out a long groan and stretched. I was getting the midday slumps and needed a caffeine boost. I rose and walked to the door.
“Need a coffee?”
“Yeah, but I’ll tag along. A walk might perk me up.”
I laughed. “You mean a snack from the vending machine might perk you up?”
“Hey, as long as I’m in there anyway.”
In the lunchroom, we met up with Lawrence, who looked to have the same idea. He was plugging change into the coffee machine.
“Running on empty?” I asked.
“Feels like it, although Royce said he heard more about the trooper incident. That perked me up for a few minutes.”
“How did you learn something from Royce?”
Lawrence waved off my comment. “Don’t get your panties in a bundle. He was just in here and mentioned it as he was waiting for his coffee cup to fill.”
“What did he say?”
“Something about the radio transmission cutting out when the trooper called in the plate number of the last vehicle he pulled over before he fell off everyone’s radar.”
“So they obviously didn’t get the plate number, or the state police would already have the owner of that vehicle detained for questioning.”
“Sounds about right.”
“And that’s all they had to work with?”
“Don’t know. It’s the only thing Royce mentioned.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“I need to run something by Royce that could work. Just depends on if he wants to offer his input or not.”
When we left the lunchroom, Rue asked what I was talking about.
“I’ll tell you both at the same time, but it does go back to the last vehicle the trooper pulled over as being the only one that mattered.”
Rue chuckled. “Okay, let’s see if Royce is open to your idea this time since the Atlanta thing didn’t go over very well.”
After I gave Royce’s open door a courtesy knock, we were waved in. “What’s up?”
“Well, we met up with Lawrence in the lunchroom, and he said you’d heard that the trooper’s radio transmission on the last vehicle he pulled over didn’t go through properly. What was important, the vehicle plate number, was garbled.”
Royce shrugged. “That’s what Patrol passed on. They heard it from the Bulloch County highway deputies.” He cocked his head and waited. “So?”
“So, depending on whether the state police want ideas or help, I thought of something they can do.”
“And you don’t think they’ve already thought of everything?”
“Don’t know, Boss, but if they didn’t, it might help.”
Royce groaned. “You do know this isn’t our priority. Chatham County is.”
“Okay, never mind.”
I stood, then Royce pointed at the chair. “Just tell me already so I can get back to work. What’s eating at you?”
“We already know that the trooper’s car had a tracking system on it. That’s how the deputies were able to locate it.”
“Correct.”
“Then they should be able to see exactly where the vehicle was during that last traffic stop, what time it was there, and how long it took before the vehicle moved off the highway and into the woods. They wouldn’t need his radio transmission to figure that out, right?”
“That’s right. So?”
“So, since they have nothing else to work with and if they can pinpoint his exact location and the exact time he pulled that last car over, then they could air that on the news and ask for help from people who passed that location at that time. Plenty of people drive the highways, and any number of them could have noticed that state trooper as he sat along the shoulder with a vehicle pulled over in front of him. If an alert passerby paid attention, they could call in the color and type of vehicle they saw. It could be a start.” I looked at Royce and tried to read his face. It was contorted.
“We aren’t involved in the case, Mitch. Nobody has asked for our help, and one-upping the state police about something they might not have thought to do would put them in a bad light.”
I swatted the air. “Let them take the credit. They probably would have anyway. Isn’t finding that trooper’s killer the important thing here, not outsmarting other law enforcement officials?”
Royce blew out a puff of air. “Of course it is, but approaching them with that idea is the hard part.”
“Excuse me, Boss, but you are a homicide sergeant in a relatively large city. I think you have some credibility.”
Royce chuckled. “Well, thanks.”
I turned to Rue. “What do you think?”
“I think why not? The public has helped out law enforcement many times. That’s why perp profiles are always aired on the news. Right now, nobody knows who the perp is, so it’ll take forever to piece the clues together. Learning what kind of vehicle the trooper pulled over and having that lead to an arrest will be huge.”
I saw the wheels turn in Royce’s head. Maybe he would get the credit after all for such a brilliant idea. His police station and the hardworking individuals there might get recognized. There wasn’t a good reason to pass up a nod like that, but even more important, there wasn’t a good reason to let a killer roam free.
“Okay, I’ll make the call to the state police.”
Rue and I grinned. It was the right thing to do, and with any luck, somebody would call in with the vehicle’s description.
“So?”
I shrugged. “So what?”
“So why are you still sitting here? Get out so I can make the call.”
We stood and walked out the door. I would have loved to listen in, but I knew Royce wanted to make the call privately. I was anxious, though, to find out whether the state police would act on the suggestion or not.