Rue called Royce and set the phone to Speaker as I drove. He asked about the BOLO, and Royce said he hadn’t talked to Sergeant Hatch about it yet. First, he wanted to know what we had found out.
I couldn’t tell Royce that he had made a mistake by not putting the BOLO in place yesterday, but he had, and it was a mistake that might have cost Gina her life.
I spoke up. “Boss, it’s Mitch. I saw the van on a bank’s security camera, and it’s definitely white and resembles the one that sped out of the mall parking lot. I didn’t get a look at the passenger side or see anything as far as a plate number, but I think that BOLO needs to go out anyway. If those killers are shaken up now because Adam witnessed Gina trying to escape, they might flee Savannah and be gone for good.”
Expletives poured out of Royce’s mouth before he caught his breath and returned his focus to the phone call. “Okay, I’ll get it out now and go countywide with it. Anyone driving a white van in Chatham County who is spotted by a patrol officer or a deputy will be pulled over and questioned.” He hung up without asking anything else.
I shook my head and couldn’t say the words, but from the look Rue gave me, he was likely thinking the same thing.
“Do you think Gina is still alive?”
I did my own share of cursing. “Honestly? No. Especially if the killers got spooked. They probably ended her life last night, sold her body parts already, and disposed of her remains before they went to bed. Chances are, they’re going to either get rid of that van, have it painted, or get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Then does it even matter now if a witness calls in that they saw a vehicle pulled over by the trooper late that afternoon?”
“It matters in the sense that it’ll solidify what we already suspected days ago—that somebody in a white van is kidnapping, killing, and selling the body parts of young ladies.”
“And a state trooper too.”
We arrived at the precinct and checked in with Royce. He said that he had just gotten word from the state police that six callers confirmed a white van as a vehicle they’d seen pulled over by a trooper. Nobody saw a sliding side door, though, since the vehicle was northbound and the passenger side was along the ditch.
“Well, that’s all the proof I need, and that’s the route you would take to Augusta,” I said.
Royce raised his brows. “True enough. I need to call Ken back and see if any organ sellers came out of Augusta or neighboring areas. We also need to know how long the sentences were that those people served and if they’re still incarcerated. If they are, then there’s likely a group of newcomers who have taken their place.” My frown caught Royce’s attention. “Something on your mind, Cannon?”
“Yeah, there is. An idea, actually. We’ve been spinning our wheels and going to locations that the van has been to after the fact.”
“Right. And?”
“And how about we look for it proactively?”
“The countywide BOLO is in place already.”
“Not what I mean. We looked through the camera footage of every store along Valerie’s walk back to her car. How about we do that again except widen the search?”
Now Royce frowned. “I’m not following.”
“Maybe the killers scouted out the bar district ahead of time, and maybe they went back afterward to see if there was a larger police presence in the area. At least now we know what we’re looking for. If we catch that van on video days before or days after Valerie was abducted, we might get a plate number or even see the occupants get in or out of the vehicle. They would never think about their images or a sighting of the van being on a number of cameras downtown in the historic district or the bar and restaurant area. Some of those cameras might record for a week or more before they start over.”
Rue nodded as I talked. He looked to be in agreement. “I like it,” he said.
“Yeah, I do too. Okay, get on it and have Bentley and Lawrence pitch in,” Royce said.
We updated Curt and John before we left, and they agreed to go through the footage we already had for the third time. Rue and I would return to Sparky’s and a few other stores in that general area to put eyes on their footage recorded several days before and after Valerie went missing. That would be time-consuming, but we were looking for only one thing—a white van. Everything else, we would speed through.
Once we reached Sparky’s, I parked along the curb, and we walked in. It was already late afternoon, and the bar seating was filling up. The noise level was high with the music louder than it usually was at noon. Rue and I made our way to the only vacant bar table. It hadn’t been cleaned off yet, but I didn’t intend to be there for more than a few minutes anyway. I just needed to get somebody’s attention. I scanned the bar and didn’t see T. J., so I assumed it was his day off.
Minutes later, Becky, a longtime waitress there, walked over carrying a tray. She apologized as she cleared the table and said something about being shorthanded. T. J. had up and quit without the required two weeks’ notice.
“Yeah, I’m kind of waitressing and bartending today. The supper crowd will be showing up soon and then…” She chuckled. “Well, you know how the weekends are around here. So, Detectives, what can I get you?”
“Not a problem,” I said. “Actually, we came to speak with the manager.”
“Sure. George is working today. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Several minutes later, George walked down the hallway. He waved us toward him, and Rue and I headed that way.
“What can I help you with, Detectives?”
“Sorry to bother you, George, but we need to look over your camera footage again,” I said. “I know you’re kind of in a lurch with T. J. quitting, but it’s imperative we look at footage a few days before and after Valerie Dawson went missing.”
“Yeah, damn employees. T. J. worked here for two years and quits without so much as a courtesy handshake. He texted me his resignation. Something about buying a boat with his brother and taking extended time away from the day-to-day workforce. Whatever the hell that means.”
“Wow.” I chuckled. “He must have gotten plenty of killer tips.”
George shrugged. “Who knows? The employees keep their own tips and don’t claim them as earnings. So, no leads yet?”
“We’re making progress, although slow,” Rue said. “By the way, do you know anyone who owns a white van?”
George rubbed his chin. “Nah, can’t say that I do.”
“Wishful thinking, I guess. Anyway, what we need is to look through your outdoor footage from the Wednesday before last to this past Tuesday. Is that possible?”
“Yep, not a problem. I’ll set it up for you, then I have to go out front and help where it’s needed.”
“Thanks, George. Appreciate it.”
George set up the footage and said it was ready to play. “You fellas want an appetizer or something to drink?”
I looked at Rue, knowing that we might be sitting there for a few hours. “How about some wings, fries, and a couple of sweet teas?”
“Coming right up.”
I checked that the footage was set to begin a week ago Wednesday, and it was. “Okay, I’m going to play this at double speed. If it seems too fast, I’ll slow it down, but just ignore everything that isn’t a white van.”
Rue gave me a head tip, and I pressed Play. Our eyes darted from side to side as vehicles passed during the daylight hours and into the night. We hadn’t glimpsed a single white van so far. We reached Friday night, the night Valerie was abducted after the bars closed. Since Lawrence and Bentley were reviewing that footage, we moved on to the next few days. Saturday proved useless, and I was sure Saturday night would too. The police presence in the area had doubled since it was the weekend and everyone liked to party, including tourists. Out-of-towners would be more difficult to track, especially if that person was a lone female.
I took a gulp of tea and excused myself to stretch and use the restroom. When I returned, Rue had already moved on to Sunday.
I checked the date and time stamp. “Damn it. I was hoping to get a glimpse of that van by now. Maybe I was completely off track with that suggestion.”
Rue swiped the air. “Nah, don’t sell yourself short. They’re out there somewhere. Don’t forget LeAnn was abducted Monday night, and that means they were still in Savannah.”
We got through Sunday without seeing that elusive white van. A commercial van passed by and nearly gave me a heart attack until I saw the advertising for an air-conditioning service on the side. It also had double rear doors. My shoulders slumped, and my hopes had all but faded, but we pushed on and began with Monday.
I rubbed my eyes and refocused as we sped through the morning hours. I felt like a zombie and wondered how long we’d been staring at that computer screen. George had come in to check on us an hour earlier and filled our glasses with more iced tea. Car after car passed the outdoor camera that caught the immediate area at the front door and the sidewalk in both directions.
Rue yelled out, and I nearly fell off my chair.
“Did you see that?” His eyes bulged, and he hit Pause.
“Damn it, Rue. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I don’t know where you were looking. What did you see?”
“I caught what looked like a white van going down the side street. There was a car next to it, so I only saw the passenger-side rear panel.”
“Back up the footage and play it at normal speed.” I concentrated on the screen as Rue made the adjustments. “There. Stop!”
What we saw was just like Devon had said. We were looking at the rear quarter panel of a white van. Next to it, blocking most of our view, was a green sedan.
“What street is that?” I asked.
“Barnard, and there’s a handful of county offices in that area. One of them has to have a camera so we can see where that van went.”
“Okay.” I snapped a picture of the video’s time stamp, thanked George, and said we might be back, then we took off on foot. It wouldn’t take but a minute to find outdoor cameras right around the corner.
Rue rushed ahead of me, as I still wasn’t able to run. I walked fine as long as I had ibuprofen to curb the occasional pain, but running was still down the road. I told him to text his location as soon as he saw a camera.
The post office building took up the corner of State and Barnard, and I was certain I would hear from Rue any second. There had to be cameras on that three-story building. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I fished it out.
“What do you have?”
“I’m inside the post office and just asked to speak with the postmaster.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in a second.” I walked through the double doors, and Rue waited off to the side. “I hope we don’t spend hours chasing down that van on every camera in the city.”
“No kidding, right?” Rue pointed his chin at the door that was opening behind the counter. “That’s got to be him.”
A middle-aged man in business casual attire walked out and looked around. He wore a lanyard around his neck with glasses dangling from it. He locked eyes on us then pointed at the closed door with a plaque that read Postmaster attached to it. Rue and I walked that way and waited for him to allow us through.
After he opened the door, we introduced ourselves, explained what we needed, and were led to the back offices.
We learned his name was Lee Patterson and that he’d been the postmaster for nine years. After joining him in the room that held four computers, all recording live footage at the street level on each corner of the building, I told him we needed to see Monday’s footage at a quarter till three. We were looking for a white van that passed by on Barnard heading north.
Mr. Patterson set up the camera that intersected with Barnard and State. “This should be the camera you’re looking for. If that van passes, then we’ll follow it with the camera on the north end of the building, but we’ll lose it after a block.”
“Okay, let’s see what we have.”
Rue and I pulled folding chairs closer, sat down, and stared at the monitor. We had about a minute or two before the van would come into view, but I wanted to make sure we didn’t miss it. When we did see it, I also hoped to see the driver through the windshield.
Looking for a front plate as it came toward the camera wouldn’t help. They weren’t required in Georgia, but the next camera might catch the back plate. We could only hope. We were down to the wire. The van had to be the right one, the killers had to be inside, and we had to figure out who they were and apprehend them that day. Time wasn’t on our side, and at the rate they were killing people, we had to get them off the street as soon as possible.
“Here it comes.” My heart pounded in my chest. I hit Pause and sucked in a deep breath.
Rue gave me a quick grin then looked at the screen.
“Okay, let’s see if we can get a look at the guy behind the wheel.” I tapped the plus sign on the zoom bar, and the image on the screen increased in size. I frowned. “Not the best clarity. The guy is fuzzy. Is there a passenger with him?”
Rue squinted and leaned in. “Yeah, it looks like it, but that person is even fuzzier. Of course, no front plate either.”
I looked for something on the front that could identify the vehicle then noticed the emblem on the grille. I pointed. “There. It’s a Ford, and since there aren’t any windows on the sides, it would be considered a panel van. That’ll definitely help with the BOLO.”
The van passed the first camera and continued on. Lee switched to the north camera, and since the vehicle following the van blocked the rear plate, we couldn’t get a read on that either.
“Damn it.” I was frustrated and thought we were going to lose the vehicle when it made a right turn into the alley. “What the hell? Where is he going?”
Lee spoke up. “The only thing back there is the post office docks and employee parking, the back of the gourmet popcorn store, and the employee parking spaces and entrance to Sparky’s on the other corner.”
My mind went back to what George had said earlier. I took a picture of the camera’s time stamp, stood, and tipped my head at Rue. We needed to go. We thanked Lee for the help and left.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Rue asked after we walked out.
“Probably. What is T. J.’s actual name?”
“Hell if I know. Never had a reason to ask him.”
“Come on. We need to talk to George again.”
We returned to Sparky’s a half hour after we’d left. I waved George down and told him it was urgent that we talk to him again. He led the way to his office with concern written across his face.
“What’s up, guys?”
“George, did T. J. work last Monday afternoon?”
“Um, let me double-check. That was a while ago, and my memory isn’t as good as it used to be.”
We waited while he pulled up the employee schedule on the computer.
“Yep, he clocked in at six minutes before three. Why?”
“What is T. J.’s actual name?”
“Teddy Jennison.”
“And he up and quit without any notice at all?”
“Yep, that’s exactly what he did.”
“And you’ve never seen him get in or out of a white van?”
“Nope, but T. J. works split shifts a lot. I wouldn’t be out in the alley when he arrived or left.”
“Have you ever seen a white van parked back there?” Rue asked.
“Not that I recall.”
“Okay, we’ll need his home address right away and his emergency contact’s name, phone number, and their address.”
“Sure thing.” George pulled up T. J.’s personnel file and wrote everything down. “Here you go. Did T. J. do something wrong?”
“Not sure yet, George, but we appreciate your help.”
Rue and I headed out. We were barely out the door, and I already had the phone pinned to my ear with Royce on the other end. I told him we had intel that could break the case. I said we needed to know everything he could find on a Teddy Jennison and that we would be back in five minutes to explain why.