It was after lunch, and Sparky’s was open. Since Royce didn’t want us to sit in on his conversation with the state police, we decided to head out.
We needed to interview the weekday manager and see if there were different employees working whom we hadn’t spoken to yet. The more people we talked to the better chances of finding someone who knew of an oddball who frequented the bar.
The normal bar patron liked to socialize, drink, and watch sports. The sketchy ones liked to watch women—and not necessarily with good intentions in mind.
I had a list of every employee we’d talked to at every bar, but focusing entirely on Sparky’s was the right thing to do. Even though Sherry didn’t think the perp was someone who had been watching them from inside, we still needed to know who, if anyone, seemed to irritate the female patrons.
After walking in, we bellied up to the bar and ordered a couple of sodas from Justin. We hadn’t seen him on Sunday when we were there talking to George and T. J., and getting another person’s point of view was always good.
“So, Justin, how’s business?”
“Slow today as far as tourists go, but the locals always come in for lunch.”
I looked around and saw a dozen people with baskets of burgers and fries in front of them at the bar tables. Two men sat across the horseshoe-shaped bar, drinking beer and making small talk with T. J. He glanced over as he filled their glasses, and I gave him a wave.
He nodded and called out to us. “Holy cow, we’ve got the PD stopping by twice in one week.” He chuckled. “We must have the best soda in town.”
I grinned and leaned in toward Justin. “Is George the only manager or just the weekend manager?”
“Mostly the weekend unless he’s filling in. Otherwise, it’s Dottie.”
“Is she here?”
“Yep. Do you want to talk to her?”
“We do, but first, we’d like to talk to you.”
“Yeah, sure. Is it about that girl who was here on Friday night and wound up dead?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “T. J. told us you were here on Sunday asking about her.”
“Can you think of anyone who shines around that seems kind of off? Like they aren’t here just to enjoy being at the bar?”
“You mean like a creeper? A guy who’s looking for someone to hit on?”
“Worse than that,” Rue said. “A real creeper. Someone who’s possibly dangerous.”
“Wow. I’ve never come across anyone like that, but I just work during the day. The real creepers probably come out at night when the bar is hopping. They blend in with the crowd, and that way, nobody realizes what their real intentions are.”
I raised a brow. “That makes sense. So nobody comes to mind? No women complaining, maybe lunch customers?”
“Sorry, but no. T. J. is the right guy to ask. He works whenever somebody calls in sick or has a day off. Day or night, he’s usually available.”
I nodded a thanks. We would ask again, but T. J. had already told us what he knew when we spoke to him on Sunday. I asked Justin to let Dottie know we had a few questions for her. He disappeared down the hall, and T. J. strolled over.
“Need refills, Detectives?”
“Sure, thanks,” I said. “So, no creepers come to mind that you couldn’t think of when we spoke to you on Sunday?”
T. J. scratched his chin then shook his head. “Well, if we’re calling this mystery person a creeper, there is Donny Pearson.”
I frowned. “Donny Pearson? Isn’t he, like, fifty?”
“Late forties, I think, but he’s a strange one.”
“How so?”
T. J. shrugged. “Doesn’t talk much unless there’s ladies in the bar. Then he becomes real chatty.”
“That doesn’t sound strange to me,” I said.
Rue laughed. “Me either.”
T. J. swatted the air. “Not in a normal way, guys. He’s a real creeper. He makes the ladies feel uncomfortable. They’ve complained plenty about his disgusting innuendos.”
“Hmm, so why didn’t you mention him on Sunday?”
“Guess I thought you had a young guy in mind. Donny didn’t fit that description, but he is a weird one.”
“Okay, thanks.”
T. J. headed to the other side of the bar and waited on several customers who had just sat down. I jerked my chin toward the hall, where Dottie was coming our way. After introducing ourselves to her, I explained why we were there and promised to keep the questions short and to the point. We had Donny Pearson to check into.
“I’m sure by now, you’ve heard about Valerie Dawson, who was found dead last weekend.”
Dottie nodded.
“She left here at bar closing Friday night and was never seen alive again.”
“Yes, what a tragedy.”
“We’ve been asking around, and T. J. just told us about how Donny Pearson makes unwanted advances toward women. Were you aware of that?”
She sighed deeply. “I am, but I try to brush it off as him being socially awkward.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because I don’t want to antagonize him, and I don’t want the ladies to stop coming in. I’m sure the night crew has far more problems to deal with than I do. I can’t whine all day about Donny.”
Rue glanced at me. “But does Donny show up at night too?”
Dottie cocked her head. “Donny is Donny. He lives on his disability check, so he can show up whenever he wants.”
The more I heard, the more I doubted that Donny was our man. The killer would have to be physically capable of apprehending and quickly silencing screaming and kicking women. But we did think there was the chance there was more than one killer committing the murders and removing the organs. We would talk to Donny anyway since it was the prudent thing to do. We thanked Dottie, Justin, and T. J. then left.
I felt my phone vibrate as we headed to the station. I dipped my hand into my pocket and passed the phone over to Rue, who read the text then paraphrased it out loud.
“Humph. It sounds like the state patrol is actually going ahead with Royce’s suggestion.”
I coughed into my fist. “Whose suggestion?”
“Yeah, okay, your suggestion, but Royce was the conduit who got the message through.”
“That’s true.” I laughed. “Good on Royce, but as usual, it’s wait and see. The question is, will Royce be kept in the loop or not?”
“Time will tell. I’m anxious to find out if Donny has been arrested in the past, and if so, for what,” Devon said.
“Well, we’ll know in ten minutes or less if we’re going to pay him a visit or not.”
We entered the building and nearly slammed into Royce running down the stairs.
“Where’s the fire?” I yelled out.
“Follow me.”
Rue and I turned and followed on Royce’s heels. Seconds later, he burst through Tapper’s office door.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked.
Tapper sat behind his desk and waved us over. “This literally hit my in-box five minutes ago. It was copied to the handful of coroners in the counties that surround Bulloch County.”
We stood at Tapper’s back and read the autopsy report and cause of death for the trooper found in the brush at the end of that gravel road.
I couldn’t believe what I was reading and had to read it a second time.
“Why wasn’t this information passed on to us?” Royce asked.
Tapper shook his head. “Did you pass on the details about Valerie and LeAnn to every city police force and county sheriff’s office?”
“No, but we didn’t want the manner of death to get out. That was the ace up our sleeves in case some nutjob wanting his fifteen minutes of fame confessed to their murders.”
“And the state police likely insisted on a gag order through Bulloch County so the trooper’s manner of death didn’t get out either. The county medical examiner doesn’t work for the police or sheriff’s department, and that’s likely why he shared the information with other coroners. Somebody will make a statement to the media, but you know darn well they aren’t going to disclose the real manner of death to the public.”
“So what actually killed the trooper before his organs were removed?” I asked.
Tapper pointed at the second paragraph of the report. “The trooper’s right carotid artery was severed by a knife. He bled out quickly, I’m sure. The press will probably be told he was killed by a knife wound and nothing more.”
My forehead wrinkled. “That makes no sense to me. A killer wouldn’t lure a state trooper to their vehicle just to kill him. Plus, they’d have to have something with them to preserve the organs until they’re sold to the buyer.”
Tapper pulled back. “So that’s the theory? We’re going with selling organs for profit?”
Royce let out a groan. “It’s the only thing that seems logical, yet nothing about the trooper scenario sounds logical at all. Do those killers drive around with a murder kit and a cooler full of ice at all times? That’s absolutely crazy. If that’s the case, then the buyer has to be within driving distance.” Royce looked at me. “Obviously, the Atlanta theory doesn’t work. Otherwise, the killer would have flown out of Savannah.”
I had to agree. We still had Donny to check out, but that could come later. Royce was beside himself, and his beet-red face told me he was about to blow. He thanked Tapper and asked him to keep the information to himself, then we left. Royce needed a meeting of the minds with Bleu and all the detectives, and the sooner the better.
It was closing in on shift change anyway, and we had just enough time for the five of us to discuss the best course of action.
In my opinion, Royce had to let the state police in on the two deaths in Chatham County and how the women were found. In many ways, working hand in hand with the state police was better than working with the FBI. We were all local to Georgia and wouldn’t have big shots in suits coming in from Manassas and taking over our cases. Bulloch County was next to Chatham County, and we had good reason to believe that the killer or killers in all three murders were the same people. The city, county, and state law officials had a tighter connection with each other than they had with the FBI. Their help was appreciated when necessary, but we were all confident that Georgia law enforcement officials, at least in this situation, could solve the three cases ourselves.
We’d made a plea to the public, too, about the chance sighting of the vehicle the trooper had pulled over. Having that information could help tremendously.
“We have more positives than negatives,” I said. “The night crew can interview Donny just to check him off the person of interest list, but I really don’t think he’s involved.”
Royce spoke up. “Now that we know about the condition of the trooper’s body, and after we discuss the situation with the night crew, we’ll have to let the state police and Bulloch County know that our two murder victims were found the same way. Not only are the perps murdering people and likely selling human organs, they’re also considered serial killers. It doesn’t matter that the body parts may go to a good cause in the end. Those perps are killing random people for a big payday and without a second thought.”
Among our shift, we agreed to join forces with the state police and Bulloch County, but we needed Bleu’s opinion and the opinion of his detectives too. It would be a group decision or the plan wouldn’t go forward.
Earlier, Royce had texted Bleu to meet us in the second-floor conference room. We needed to speak with him and his detectives. His return message said he was on his way and that he would forward Royce’s message to the guys. They’d be showing up soon.
Ten minutes later, and one by one, they walked in. Bleu must have stressed the importance of getting to the precinct and heading directly to the conference room. Everyone’s expressions told us that they had no idea what the meeting was about.
Once they were seated and settled, Royce began with the news that Tapper had shared about the trooper.
Bleu was furious. “So nobody at the Bulloch County Sheriff’s Office thought to share that information with other branches of law enforcement?”
Royce held up his hands. “Take a breath, Chuck. It isn’t like we shared information with anyone else either. Hell, we don’t even have a suspect profile to share. The less the public knows about organ trafficking, the better. If we go off half-cocked with that news, it’ll scare the shit out of everyone, plus we won’t have that proverbial ace up our sleeves. Only the killer and us know that the bodies had been emptied of their salable organs. As of right now, we know how the trooper was found, but Bulloch County and the state police have no idea that the two murder victims we have in Chatham County were found the same way.”
“So what’s the suggestion? Why the meeting?”
Royce blew out a long breath. “We need to team up, a joint effort between all law enforcement agencies that are currently involved.”
I took my turn. “Between us, we think it’s the prudent thing to do, but we need everyone to be in agreement before we consider going forward.”
Bleu looked at Royce then asked his detectives what they thought.
Prentice spoke up. “I don’t think we have another choice. The main goal is to apprehend those maniacs, not to put a notch on our belts for doing everything alone. We’ve been working this case for damn near a week and aren’t any further ahead than we were when Valerie was discovered.”
Bleu nodded at Bloom. “Ricky?”
“I agree. Let’s team up with the others and get this done before more people die. It isn’t about anyone’s ego. It’s about getting those opportunists off the street and in prison where they belong.”
Bleu turned to Royce. “I guess we’re on board.”
“Good, then I’ll make the call. We need to meet up in person with the sheriff’s office and the state police. I’ll see what I can do about getting people from both departments here first thing in the morning. I think we should all be in attendance.”
“Agreed,” Bleu said. “Now what do we need to follow up on tonight?”
It was after six o’clock when those of us on the day shift clocked out. Before we left, I’d passed on the information we’d gotten about Donny and said that Prentice and Bloom should pay him a visit. After I plugged his name into the system, it appeared that he had been arrested twice for disturbing the peace and aggravated assault on a woman and spent six months in Hinesville at the Liberty County Jail.
“Interview him and find out where he was and what he was doing when Val and LeAnn went missing. Make sure his alibi is legit.”
“Not a problem,” Prentice said. “We’ll take care of that right away.”