It was nearly noon by the time we reached the Cozy Inn. I parked, and we followed the numbered doors to room seven. I gave the door a knuckle rap, and a cute blonde who reminded me of a younger version of my sister Meg pulled open the door.
I nodded a hello and showed her my badge. “We’re Detectives Cannon and Rue, and you are?”
“Tory.” She looked around the small room. “Um—”
“We passed a picnic table when we were walking to your room. How about we sit there and talk, okay?” I asked.
She smiled. “Yeah, that would be good.” She called out to Ellen, who said she would be right with us—she was brushing her teeth.
We stepped outside, and a mere thirty feet away was a vine-covered pergola surrounded by plants with a picnic table centered in the space. It was shady and private, a perfect spot to have a confidential conversation. I set my notepad, pen, and phone on the table. Seconds later, Ellen joined us. We introduced ourselves, and she took a seat next to Tory.
“Okay, we’re going to run some questions by you about Gina and then take a look at her phone. Sound good?”
They both nodded, and Tory spoke up before we began. “Why are the Savannah police involved when Gina disappeared here and we’ve already told the Tybee Island police everything we know?”
“Because the Tybee Island police are looking for Gina on the island. She’s considered missing and nothing more as far as they know.”
“As far as they know?” Ellen asked. “What does that mean?”
“We believe Gina has been abducted. A 911 call came in last night a few blocks from here about a young woman seen trying to get out of a van, but a man yanked her back in. Do you remember what Gina was wearing when she walked out to the car?”
“Yeah,” Tory said. “We’d only been back a few minutes, so she still had on her swimsuit and a cover-up over it.”
“Can you describe the cover-up?” Rue asked.
“It has sunflowers on it.”
I glanced at Rue. The woman Adam had seen in the van was looking more and more like Gina, and my gut said she was likely already dead. We needed a good view of that van and an accurate color of it. A thought came to mind, and I rose from the table.
“Go ahead with the interview, Devon. I’m going to look around for a few minutes.”
“No problem.”
I headed for the parking lot where the rental car was but backtracked to the picnic table. “Is your rental parked in the same place it was when you came back from the beach?”
Ellen answered. “Yes, it’s in the same spot.”
“Okay, thanks.” I walked through the pea-gravel lot and scanned the ground around the car, but nothing stood out. I looked up at the palm trees and the corners of the building—no cameras. Since the parking lot was relatively small, the street wasn’t far away. I walked out to the sidewalk and looked in every direction for a camera. “Bingo.”
Across the street, a bank was near the intersection. It had a corner-mounted camera at the roofline, and I needed to view their footage from last night. I called Rue’s cell and explained where I was going. The chance of seeing that van pass by was great. I asked Rue to find out what time the girls returned to the inn from the beach. I heard them talking, then Rue came back on the line.
“The girls said they were back a little after nine. They went to a fast-food restaurant right after the beach, had burgers, and then came here.”
“Okay, I’ll be across the street at the bank when you’re done there.” I hung up, looked both ways before stepping off the curb, then crossed the street.
After entering the bank, I explained to the manager who I was and what I needed. She was more than happy to oblige and said their cameras recorded twenty-four hours a day. From the location where the outside camera was mounted, it would catch the intersection in all directions. The van had to have passed, and hopefully, something about it would stand out. If I was lucky, I might get a plate number too.
I joined the manager in the bank’s security office, and even though there were probably other street-facing cameras in the neighborhood, the bank would likely have the best-quality security system of them all.
The manager, Jean Foss, set the time frame I needed then hit Play.
“Sorry, but I’ll have to stay in here with you, Detective Cannon. Bank security, you know.”
“Perfectly understandable, and this shouldn’t take too long since the time frame isn’t in question.”
I knew when the van was at the Cozy Inn, and I knew what time Adam had made the 911 call. There wasn’t any guesswork involved. I had less than a ten-minute window that the van could pass through the video frame.
I watched the screen as cars came and went. They stopped at the red lights or continued through the green ones.
“There!” I couldn’t help yelling and had forgotten the manager was sitting only five feet away. I hit Pause, apologized for startling her, then regrouped. My pen and notepad sat on the desk next to me. I backed up the footage then pressed Play again. With my finger hovering over the pause key, I stared at the screen until the front of the van came into the frame. I paused the footage, zoomed in as far as I could, and took note of every square inch I was looking at. The driver’s-side mirror was intact, just like the one that passed the mall camera after LeAnn was abducted. The van was definitely white, which I could tell thanks to the color camera system. I wrote down that the windows were tinted, which made the driver impossible to see. I looked at the front rims then forwarded the footage slightly. I reached the center of the van and paused the video again. Nothing in that area was remarkable, and there weren’t any side windows on the panel van.
I moved to the rear. The rims were the same as the front ones, the gas tank was on that side, and a mud flap was behind the rear driver’s-side tire. Other than that, the vehicle was pretty standard. It had no advertising decals or stickers of any kind. Now I needed it to turn right. It would be the only way to see anything from the rear, including a plate number.
“Come on. Turn right.”
Turning left or going straight would give me nothing. I wanted to see if there were rear doors, and if there were, I was looking at the wrong van. I pressed Play and watched as the van approached the intersection at the green light and turned left. I cursed under my breath. What I saw was all I would get unless we chased down every camera facing Highway 80. We’d also have to find cameras on the northeast side of the street to see if the van had a sliding side door, yet chasing down images of the van seemed too time-consuming. From the timeline, I was certain that the van on the bank’s security camera was the one Gina was in, and I couldn’t even let myself think of what had happened inside or beyond that point.
With my phone, I snapped a half-dozen screenshots of the van, thanked Jean, and headed to the inn.
The interviews were over, and Rue sat at the picnic table while looking through Gina’s phone. He had written down all the names and numbers that were relevant according to Ellen and Tory. They’d also told Devon that Gina had no enemies whatsoever and worked part-time at a grocery store in Richmond. Devon had already given the girls his card, and after returning Gina’s phone, we thanked them and left.
We climbed into the cruiser, and Rue said he had called the Tybee Island PD to find out if Gina’s parents had been notified about their missing daughter. He was told they had and that the Tybee Island PD would handle all communication with Mr. and Mrs. Casey.
Rue cracked his neck from side to side before pulling his seat belt across his chest. “So, what did you find out?”
“I saw the van. I mean, I saw a van, but I know it was the right one. It turned back toward Savannah on Highway 80, which means I only saw the driver’s side.”
“So could you make out what the driver looked like?”
I groaned. “Hell no. The windows were tinted.”
Rue cursed. “Are we ever going to catch a break? Meanwhile, Gina’s life is hanging in the balance.”
I slapped the steering wheel in frustration. “All we can do is see if Royce actually put out that BOLO on the van, and if he didn’t, it needs to be done immediately. Every white van that Patrol comes across in Savannah has to be pulled over and the occupants need to be questioned. We don’t have the luxury of time anymore, and neither does Gina Casey.”