With the state police, the Bulloch County Sheriff’s Office, the Statesboro Police Department, and our own PD on board, I saw a certain amount of confidence between everyone as the meeting came to an end. Our heads were lifted a little higher, our shoulders weren’t slumped, and our backs were straight. We had a clear vision and a path to follow, and we would all work together as a cohesive unit to bring the killers to justice.
With handshakes and thanks, we parted ways and promised to update each agency at least twice a day.
We needed to have a sit-down with Royce again about the van situation. We were sure Jacob wasn’t involved, so it had to be two other men who also had a van—for convenience if nothing else. As disgusting as it sounded, it was their organ-removal workstation on wheels.
We joined Royce in his office, where we dropped down onto the guest chairs.
“So, what is our task going to be?” I asked. “We’ve got four detectives who are sitting on their hands and waiting for someone in a neighboring county to call someone else in another county to report a vehicle pulled over along the highway two days ago. I’d be lucky to remember what I saw forty-eight hours ago as I’m speeding down the highway at seventy miles an hour, and I’m a cop.”
Royce opened his desk drawer, pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen, and shook three tablets into his hand. He tossed them into his mouth and washed them down with cold coffee.
“Nine thirty and I already have a splitting headache.” He eyeballed me for a second and then said to pursue that van theory again.
Rue and I headed to our office. We had a lot of digging to do. I started by calling down to Missing Persons first. We needed to know if anyone else in our jurisdiction had been reported missing in the last two days. I was told that no one had been, but the PD in Tybee Island had a missing person report filed on an out-of-town woman who’d vanished without a trace just last night. The friends she was vacationing with went into the Tybee Island police station that morning and filed the report.
“Can you email that to me, Miranda? That’d be a lot easier than trying to write down everything.”
Miranda said she would. I thanked her, hung up, and dialed the Tybee Island PD. The missing woman was still unaccounted for. The officer I spoke with mentioned a strange call that came in last night. The caller wasn’t sure whether he’d witnessed people acting out or if something serious was going on. He said a woman was yelling and trying to get out of a vehicle but was jerked back in. He thought it could possibly be a boyfriend-and-girlfriend argument.
I asked for that report, too, and not five minutes later, both had landed in my email.
“Rue, come look at these reports with me.”
Devon rolled his chair over and, with his arm propped on my desk, held his chin up with his hand. “This one is the Tybee Island missing tourist report?”
“Yep. After spending the day at the beach then finally returning to the room at the Cozy Inn, Gina Casey remembered leaving her cell phone in the car. She went out to retrieve it and never returned to the room she shared with her two friends. The report says they were going to hit the bars after showering. One friend was taking her shower while the other dozed off on the bed, and neither realized Gina hadn’t returned to the room for a good half hour. They went out to the car, saw her cell phone was still inside, and spent the night driving around looking for her.”
“Why in the hell wouldn’t they contact the police right away?”
“Because they’re dumb kids and their brains haven’t matured yet. That’s why. They wasted the entire night looking for her instead of thinking foul play might be involved.”
I opened the next report, which was the one about the yelling female in the car. According to that report, the caller said the woman was holding open the sliding side door of a van and screaming, then a man yanked her back inside and the van sped away.
My eyes bulged as I stared at the screen. “Did I just read that right?”
“Yep, you sure did, and we need to speak with that caller as soon as possible.”
I dialed the Tybee Island Police Department back and said it was imperative that we speak to the person who had made that 911 call. I was transferred to the sergeant in charge, who said the call came into Dispatch and the nearest patrol officer in the area took the report from the man at the scene.
“But his personal information was collected, too, correct?”
“Yes, Detective Cannon, it was, but the guy is also a tourist. He isn’t from Georgia, so I don’t know how much a copy of his driver’s license is going to help you.”
“It’ll have to be good enough unless he told the officer where he’s staying.”
“That wasn’t included with his statement.”
“Okay, then I’ll need someone to send a copy of the license to my email address. It sounds like that incident the caller saw last night and the missing tourist this morning could be connected, especially with the mention of a van. They could be part of the ongoing investigation we’ve been working on for a week.”
“I’ll have our records clerk send you the man’s contact information right away. All I need is your email address again.”
After giving it to him, I was told that I’d have the information within minutes. I thanked him and hung up.
“Now we wait.”
Rue grabbed the receiver from his desk phone. “I’ll call Royce and tell him what we just found out.”
I listened to Rue’s side of the conversation and, through the phone lines, heard Royce’s cursing. Devon hung up.
“He isn’t happy.”
“Yeah, I bet. But for now, we have to find out more about that missing girl. We need to speak to those friends of hers, too, but first, it’s imperative we track down the man who called 911.” Minutes later, the email came in with a copy of the caller’s driver’s license. “Okay, the guy is from Jacksonville, Florida. Type his name into the people search database and see if we get an address match and phone number.”
I waited as Rue tapped the computer keys.
“Got it. Here’s the phone number.”
I dialed it, and a man’s voice answered. I asked if he was Adam Zimmer, and he said he was. I told him who I was and what I needed to know. I also asked him to be as detailed as possible. I wanted to know everything he’d seen—which direction the van was going, a description of the vehicle and the woman screaming, and the man who pulled her back into the van.
“Um, it happened so fast. I mean, it wasn’t like I could rewind what I saw and memorize every detail. Literally from the minute the woman screamed for help until the van was out of sight took about five seconds. Plus, last night, I told the officer everything that was fresh in my mind.”
“I understand that, but what you saw could be connected to a murder case we’re working on here in Savannah. I can’t go into detail about that, but that’s the reason facts are so important. Even if you told the officer what went down, did you describe the van to him? Did you get a plate number, notice if there was damage to the vehicle or possibly window or bumper stickers to help identify it?”
“Wow. I don’t remember any of that other than the van was light colored. Could have been white, silver, light gray, tan, so I’m not sure. My eyes were fixated on the girl.”
“Okay, what did she look like, and what was she wearing?”
“Damn. She had chin-length brown hair, and it looked like she wore some kind of flowery beach coverup. She was young—under thirty for sure—but that’s it. I was standing on the sidewalk about forty feet from the van as it barreled through the intersection.”
“In what direction?”
“Sir, I’m not from Tybee Island, so I don’t know my directions from street corners.”
“The police report says you were on the corner of Second Avenue and Highway 80.”
“That’s right.”
“So which way did the van go?”
“It passed me on Highway 80, I guess.”
“So toward the water or heading inland?”
“Inland.”
“Okay, great. Where are you staying, Adam, and how long will you be on the island?”
“I’m actually heading back to Jacksonville this afternoon.”
“All right. Thanks for your help, and there could be the chance that I’ll call again. Have a safe trip home.” I hung up and dialed the missing persons department at the Tybee Island PD. We needed phone numbers for the two women who’d filed the report that morning, and I also wanted to find out if they had mentioned where they were staying. What had been forwarded to us was only the file on the missing woman but nothing about the people who’d filed the report. I was connected to the department and transferred to the officer who took the report.
“Officer Denton here.”
“Officer Denton, this is Detective Cannon in Savannah. I understand you took a missing person report this morning from two young ladies.”
“Yes, their friend went missing last night.” I heard what sounded like a frustrated sigh through the phone lines. “If only they would have come in right when it happened. Patrol could have been out looking for her.”
“You took down the personal information from those ladies, correct?”
“Yes, of course. We can’t have people playing pranks and making false claims, so we take down their personal information right away.”
“Good. I’ll need you to email that to me as soon as possible. I believe the missing girl could be a victim in a case we’re investigating.”
“You bet. I’ll send it over right away.”
After giving him my email address, I waited again. That time when the information came through, it included copies of both driver’s licenses and the phone numbers. That would speed up the process, and I dialed the first number immediately.
The voice on the other end sounded shaky as if she had been crying. I looked at the copy of her driver’s license and saw a photo of the young lady I was talking to.
“Is this Ellen Barnes?”
“It is. Who’s this?”
“I’m a detective from Savannah. We learned of Gina’s disappearance this morning and wondered if anything new has come up.”
“No, but the Tybee Island police are handling it.”
“Sort of. Can you describe Gina for me?”
Ellen began to cry. “She has medium-length brown hair, and she’s skinny. She’s twenty-two and missing. Her parents are going to shit!”
Ellen’s voice went from sad and shaky to a high-pitched, frantic shrill. I heard someone talking in the background, then they got on the line.
“I’m Tory Hughes. We can’t track Gina, text her, or call her because her phone and purse are here. She just disappeared with no way to contact anyone and no money.”
“Tory, can you stay calm for me?”
“I guess.”
“Good. What did you girls do yesterday?”
“We were at the beach all day.”
“Did any guys make unwanted advances at you or come on too strong?”
“No, we didn’t talk to any guys except the bartender at the beach bar.”
“So I understand when you ladies got back to your room, you had plans to go out to the bars that night.”
“Yes. Gina was going to check out the cool places on her phone while I showered. That’s when she realized she left her phone in the car. She went out to get it, and that was the last time we had any contact with her.”
“Was there a reason you waited until morning to file the report?”
“We were scared. We didn’t want her parents to worry, and we figured we’d find her hanging out with some guy.”
I heard her voice catch in her throat.
“But we never did.”
“Can you take a picture of her license and email it to me?”
“Yes.”
“And how long are you girls going to be in Tybee Island?”
“Until tomorrow. We’re flying out of Savannah at five o’clock.”
“To?”
“Home. We live in Richmond, Virginia.”
“Okay, can you girls just hang tight? My partner and I can be there in a half hour. We’d like to go over everything with you again and then check out Gina’s belongings.”
“Yes, we’ll stay here. We’re at the Cozy Inn, room seven at the end of the building.”
“Great. We’ll be there soon.”
I opened my email and snapped a picture of Gina’s driver’s license. After I shut down my laptop, Rue and I passed Royce’s office and told him we were heading out.
“Find out something so I can pass it on to the others,” Royce said.
I gave him a head tip. “That’s the plan.”