On Friday morning, I woke with thoughts of Valerie. The what-ifs started playing in my head. What if she had changed her mind and hadn’t gone out that night? What if the girls had bypassed Sparky’s and called it a night earlier? What if Valerie hadn’t parked so far away or walked to her car alone? None of those questions would ever be answered. It was too late, and nobody could press the rewind button and take back that night. All we could do was hope that the joint effort between law enforcement agencies would prove successful. With any luck, we would find the killers before the what-ifs filled my mind again—new ones of LeAnn and the night she’d died.
I was excited to get to work, and a text from Royce late last night had confirmed that the meeting that morning was good to go. Several representatives from the state police, the Bulloch County Sheriff’s Office, and the Statesboro PD would be sitting in on our group meeting.
The Bulloch County medical examiner, along with Tapper, would be part of that meeting, too, and side by side, they would compare the manner of death and autopsy reports.
After a quick breakfast of a granola bar, a banana, and coffee, I headed out. I wanted to be ready for that meeting, which Royce said would begin at eight o’clock sharp in the downstairs conference room, which was far larger than ours on the second floor.
Rue called my cell phone as I drove. Because my rental was a brand-new model, I spoke to Devon through my phone synced into the infotainment center.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.
“Just wondering if you got a text from Royce last night to get to work on time.”
“Of course, and when am I ever not on time?”
“Good point. Anyway, it’ll be downstairs.”
I looked both ways at the stop sign then continued on. “Already know that too. Are you there?”
“Nope, just leaving home.”
“Then it looks like I’ll get there before you.”
“Darn.”
I chuckled. “Is that all you wanted?”
“No. Grab me a coffee so I don’t have to look like a jerk by being the last one entering the conference room.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I hung up and smiled.
My entire life, I’d wished I had a brother, yet my partner, Devon, was the brother I’d never had, and I would do anything for him. He would do the same for me, and my entire family and I were grateful.
After parking, I walked upstairs to my office and grabbed two notepads and two pens. I was sure if Rue didn’t have time to get his own coffee, he would have even less time to grab a pad of paper and a pen. I continued down the hall to the cafeteria and bought two coffees.
Now how the hell am I going to carry everything?
Grumbling, I pocketed the pens, jammed the notepads in my waistband, and carried the coffees down two flights of stairs. Rue had just opened the outer door as I was passing.
“Good timing. Here, take your stuff.”
“Thanks, partner.”
We headed into the conference room, where Royce, Bleu, and two strangers were already seated. At least ten other people were expected to show up. As we waited, Royce made the introductions. Both men, Ken Jarrett and Dan Westfall, were from the state police. After handshakes, Rue and I sat down as more people entered the room.
Bentley, Lawrence, Bloom, and Prentice came in next, I assumed because they were local and lived within ten minutes of the precinct. We were still waiting on representatives from the Bulloch County Sheriff’s Office and the Statesboro Police Department.
We made small talk until everyone showed up at a quarter after eight with apologies about traffic on the highway.
I smiled at the thought of them having used their sirens to arrive sooner, but since getting to a meeting wasn’t considered an emergency, I imagined they knew better.
After the introductions were made, Ken Jarrett began the meeting simply because he ranked highest of everyone in attendance.
“First and foremost, I want to thank Sergeant Royce for bringing up the idea of contacting the news stations and airing a plea for help from the public. With that plea ongoing, I’m happy to say we’ve been getting leads. Once we have at least fifty descriptions of the vehicle that was pulled over by the trooper and we compare descriptions, it’ll be easy to see if there’s a vehicle that is consistently mentioned. If there’s twenty black trucks described and all the others are random vehicles, then I’d likely put my money on the vehicle being the black truck. See where I’m going with this?”
Everyone nodded.
“Good. We’ll give it a couple of days, and by then, we should have a good representation.”
I couldn’t believe he said “a couple of days.” We were already a couple of days behind in finding and arresting the culprit, but I remained quiet.
Ken went on to agree with Royce that we needed to share all incidents related to the murders and organ removal of the victims so far, plus any new findings. That much, I completely agreed with. Information was king, and every ounce of it we could gather would help. I wrote as he talked.
We had to compare the list of family and friends of the trooper to similar lists from our Chatham County victims. Our counties also needed to compare statements that had been called in about suspicious characters or vehicles, and we needed to share knowledge of past criminals throughout Georgia who had behaved in a way that could advance to murder and organ removal. Any for-profit crime could progress to selling body parts if the perp was desperate or savvy enough to pull it off. We also had the buyers to deal with, and that information would have to be gathered from the national criminal database. Royce might be more open to that idea now that other agencies were involved and he wouldn’t be stretching his detectives too thin.
“Have you gotten any leads at all in the trooper’s murder?” Royce asked.
Bill Randall from the sheriff’s office responded. “The location where the trooper’s car was found was very remote. There weren’t any houses in the area and definitely none down that deserted road. All we have to hope for is enough people calling in who saw the same vehicle pulled over by the trooper. Until that happens, we don’t have fingerprints, video footage, or even tire tracks to make plaster casts from. We didn’t find a speck of evidence dropped or left behind, and we searched the area thoroughly.”
Royce turned to Ken. “So, are the state police going to handle the responsibility of checking out previous organ buyers, if they’re incarcerated, and if not, learning what they’re up to now? I’d think you have more resources than we do.”
Ken took notes then looked up. “We have plenty of individuals who can take care of that task.”
Royce let out a long sigh. “We’ll need to exchange phone numbers, work and cell, email addresses, and update each other with all news that’s related to these murders. This investigation is moving far too slowly for my liking, but I guess that’s because tonight will be the one-week anniversary of when Valerie went missing. Sunday morning will be a week since her hollowed-out body was found.”
Dan Westfall looked around the table at each face. “Detectives? We need feedback since you’re likely going to be the feet on the ground.”
I spoke up. “We retraced our steps and interviewed everyone again in the Valerie Dawson case. The footage was given a second look too. Nothing new other than an additional name came up.”
Dan frowned. “And?”
Prentice took his turn. “And it was a dead end. Just a creepy guy who served time behind bars but had solid alibis for both nights in question.”
Royce pointed his chin at Dan. “So the trooper’s wife has been checked out? Kids, neighbors, the whole gamut? No mysterious bank account withdrawals or life insurance policies recently taken out on the trooper, that sort of thing?”
“Nope. Nothing fishy, and the friends and family are clean and alibied.”
“Okay, then we’re all on the same page. We’re starting from scratch with nothing to work with until calls come in about the last vehicle the trooper pulled over.”
Ken agreed. “It looks that way. We’ll get started on every organ buyer who has been arrested in the US over the last five years.”
With a grunt, Royce pushed back his chair and stretched. “Then I guess our part is done. Tapper, you and Dr. Kingman want to take it from here?”
Tapper nodded and began. “I’m quite positive we wouldn’t be sitting here today if it wasn’t for Dr. Kingman. The fact that he shared the autopsy reports with other county coroners was huge. Now, as a joint effort, these killings might end. In comparing the reports, the similarities between victims is uncanny, down to the precise way the killer removed the organs. We have no doubt that the killers are the same in all three murders.”
My mind was going in circles. “According to the autopsy reports, each victim had been dead for around ten hours when found. That gave the killers plenty of time to commit the murder, remove the organs, dump the body, and then drive to wherever they were selling the organs. It also seemed that even though the perps tried to hide the remains, doing so was almost an afterthought. Their main focus was getting the organs to the buyer within a certain amount of time.”
Dr. Kingman cleared his throat then spoke up. “The kidneys have the longest shelf life, but in order to streamline their efforts, I’m sure they sold all the organs to the same buyer. That way, they’re paid and can start the hunt all over again with a clean slate.”
“So, they were heading north out of Savannah when they were pulled over just outside Statesboro,” Royce said.
The deputy confirmed that. “Actually, just north of Statesboro on US Highway 80, about halfway between Statesboro and Akins Mill.”
I took my turn. “I wonder where they were going. The closest big city in a northerly direction is Augusta. They have multiple hospitals and a regional airport too.” I noticed Ken taking notes. “Were they making a delivery and happened to get pulled over? Did they look at the trooper as a bonus opportunity, another payday? All sick ideas, but in the minds of sick people, it seems acceptable. The reward is worth the risk.”
“And the trooper likely bled out from a stab to the carotid artery,” Dr. Kingman said.
“Good point,” Royce said, “and on a busy highway, where does a trooper go when he approaches a vehicle?”
Rue huffed. “To the passenger-side window, and it was his right carotid artery that was severed.”
“Meaning there was definitely someone in the passenger seat. My question is, how did they put the trooper in their car and drive his away without a single passerby noticing?” I asked.
Ken took over. “Not in the trunk unless they timed it perfectly when there wasn’t traffic coming.”
I looked at the deputies. “They needed a workstation of sorts, and according to what you said, there wasn’t a single clue, drop of blood, or speck of evidence at the scene.”
Rue locked eyes on me. “It had to be a van.”
Royce pressed his temples with his palms. “Son of a bitch.”