Royce stormed into our office. “Patrol got a hit on the black sedan. It was involved in a car accident.”
I leapt from my chair. “Yes! Where is it, and is the car disabled? What happened to the driver?”
“Slow down, Cannon. I can only answer one question at a time. All I know is that the car can’t move, and the driver is in the wind. It happened less than ten minutes ago.”
“We need to have Patrol box in the area.”
Royce held up his hand. “Let me talk, Mitch. They’re already on that task, boxing in five blocks in every direction. I told them to cordon off the accident and leave the car as is. I want Forensics and you two out there before everyone and their neighbor puts their prints all over the sedan.”
“We’re on our way. What’s the location?”
“Corner of Martin Luther King and Morris Brown.”
Rue and I rushed out of the building and grabbed the first cruiser in the lot. Even though the destination wasn’t far away, I drove with the lights flashing and sirens blaring. We arrived less than five minutes later.
After showing our badges, we were allowed through the blockade and approached the patrol units stationed at both cars. I jerked my chin toward the car in the front.
“Who does that vehicle belong to?”
Officer Reed pointed. “That guy sitting on the curb.”
“Okay. Anyone touch the sedan?”
“Nope. We were told to keep everyone away until Forensics arrived.”
“Good.” I looked through the driver’s window and didn’t see anything readily visible that could help us. “Anyone see where the driver went?”
Reed shrugged. “The lady in the car behind the sedan and the driver of the car that was hit said the man ran into that alley across the street. No idea where he is now since the accident was reported a good fifteen minutes ago.”
“Shit! Patrol is canvassing and cordoning off five blocks out, right?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“And they all have a picture of the man—six foot six, dark hair?”
“They do.”
“Okay.” I nodded to Rue. “Let’s talk to the guy at the curb.”
As we approached the man, I noticed his forehead was scuffed and bleeding.
“Sir, are you okay? Do you need medical attention?”
He waved me off. “No, I’m fine. I hit the steering wheel, and I’m pissed that my only means of transportation is probably a total wreck now. I don’t have the money to replace my car.”
I looked at the junker sitting in the road. “Your insurance should cover it.”
He laughed. “Would you insure that heap? I was lucky to get from point A to point B with it.”
“Doesn’t matter. Liability insurance at a minimum is the law in Georgia. Patrol will have to cite you for driving a noninsured vehicle. Anyway, we’re detectives from the Habersham precinct, and we’re going to need your statement of how and why the accident happened.”
The man huffed. “The guy behind me slammed into my car then took off. Plain and simple. That’s a crime, right? Leaving the scene of an accident?”
If he only knew that the car accident was the least of our concerns. The sunglasses man was wanted for much more than that, and right then was the closest we’d been to him since the day at the cemetery. Patrol had to find him before he disappeared into thin air.
I nodded to Rue. “Get his info, how the accident happened, and a description of the man who ran. I see the forensic van coming this way.” As I walked to the sedan, I rounded the car to make absolutely sure that the license plate matched the one I’d seen at the cemetery, and it did. I also noticed the plate was from Alabama.
So that’s why I couldn’t place the tag. It has the newest state design on it. Hmm, there’s also a car rental decal on the rear bumper.
I finally felt like we might get somewhere. Not only did we have the make and model of the car, but we also had the agency that rented the car and the state it came from. That was a slam dunk for my team. When someone called out my name, I turned. Billy and Martin were walking toward me.
“So, what’s the story?” Billy asked.
“This is the car used by the man we believe to be the killer of Kim and the pawnshop couple. I’ll need you to print it and go through it with a fine-tooth comb.”
Martin looked around. “This is a pretty busy area, Mitch. I think it would go better at the forensic garage so Patrol can open up the street again.”
I followed his eyes. When we’d arrived, I was so focused on the car, the man, and the witnesses that I hadn’t noticed we were creating a huge bottleneck.
“Yeah, I see what you mean. Okay, call the flatbed and take it back to the garage, but nobody can touch a thing unless they’re gloved.”
“You got it.”
I noticed a woman speaking to Officer Reed, and it looked like he was taking her statement. I headed that way.
“What have we got here, Reed?”
“This is the woman from the car behind the sedan, Diane Wells. She told me her account of how the accident happened, and she also got a brief look at the man who left the scene.”
“Good.” I turned to her. “How do you think the accident happened?”
“Well, I imagine the driver of the black car wasn’t paying attention, but with all that black smoke, it was hard to see clearly.”
“Black smoke?”
“Yeah, coming from that piece of shit in the front. It was pouring out toxic fumes.”
“Okay, Diane, I’ll need you to join me by the man sitting on the curb.” I approached Rue. “This is the woman from the third car. She said she got a look at the guy who fled the scene.”
Rue nodded. “So, let’s see how well you two saw him. Brandon Ellis here says the man was tall with dark-brown hair and looked to be around fifty.”
“No way,” Diane said. “How could he see anything with all that smoke around his car?”
Rue’s eyes darted my way.
Diane continued. “He was more like forty and had black hair, but yeah, he was tall. He wore black pants and a long-sleeved dark-green T-shirt.”
I looked at Brandon, who shook his head. “I wasn’t paying attention to what he was wearing, only to where he was going.”
“And that was into the alley across the street?”
“Right.”
“Did he have anything in his hands that either of you saw?”
“Papers, like a folder or notebook, and his cell phone,” Diane said.
Brandon shrugged. “I was too pissed to notice.”
After hearing both accounts, I leaned more toward Diane’s as the most believable. She had a clearer mind since, unlike Brandon, her only means of transportation wasn’t damaged beyond repair.
I addressed my next question to her. “Do you think the man was taller than me?”
“Definitely. He stood out. You’re tall but not noticeably tall.”
That was what I wanted to hear. “One more question. Was he wearing sunglasses?”
“Yes.”
“Damn it.”
I returned to the damaged vehicles and snapped pictures of both cars along with the sedan’s plate number and name of the rental car agency. Once we had that information and Patrol was thoroughly searching the area for our mystery man, Rue and I passed out our cards to Brandon and Diane. Before we left for the precinct, I told the forensic team that any prints they found had to be run through the nationwide database and we needed the results as soon as humanly possible.
As we headed to the station, Rue updated Royce. As soon as my back end was planted in my desk chair, I would be calling that rental car agency. They had to have a copy of the driver’s license of the man who’d rented the sedan. Hopefully, that would put an end to our search for the killer who had murdered Kim and Mr. and Mrs. Grimes.
Once back, I looked up the 800 number for the rental car company and made the call. The decal on the sedan’s bumper was simply the company’s logo and didn’t show the actual location where the car was picked up. Still, I was sure that by sharing the plate number and state, whoever I was connected with would be able to tell me which location and in what city the car was rented from.
After explaining who I was and giving my badge number, I was connected with a supervisor in the vehicle rental department. I gave her all the pertinent information about the car, and within seconds, she had the sedan pulled up on her computer screen.
“Okay, here we go, Detective Cannon. It looks like that particular sedan was rented two weeks ago in Birmingham, Alabama, to a Ross Matson.”
I wrote that down then asked if she would email me a copy of the man’s driver’s license on file.
“One moment while I pull it up. Yep, we have it, so all I need is your email address.”
I happily rattled it off then asked her to wait on the line until I confirmed that the email with the photo had come through. She obliged.
Seconds later, a new email with an attachment popped up. I clicked on the photo to enlarge it. I was finally looking into the face of our suspect and without sunglasses on. I quickly checked his height on the license, and it matched the six-foot-six estimate we got from Tech.
“Everything looks right. Thank you so much for your help.” I hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. Now all we needed to do was find our man.