During the morning briefing, everyone from the day crew had been alerted to what went down the night before. The night shift was either working and on site at the time of the crash or had already been made aware of it last night. Royce made sure everyone knew that the crash was no accident, but by the grace of God, he said, the lives of Mitch and the two people in the other vehicle were spared.
“We’re looking for a green SUV or van, and yes, we already had been, but at that time, we thought it was a truck. It was being used then by Abraham Norris, but since his demise, it seems that somebody else is using it, likely his killer. For reasons unknown, Detective Cannon has become a target, and obviously, the first attempt on his life took place last night. Until tomorrow, Mitch will be in the hospital with a guard at his door and then home for several weeks with a squad car making regular rounds. We aren’t taking any chances with our officers of the law. Soon enough, he’ll be back at work but on desk duty only. Any questions?”
Bentley spoke up. “What about paint color matches or identifications on the debris left at the scene?”
“Forensics is working on all of that as we speak. Hopefully, they can get a partial serial number or even use the shape and pattern off the broken plastic turn signal cover we found on the street. Same with a color match to a vehicle, most likely a green SUV or van. Tech is working on the gas station video that shows the vehicle arriving at and backing up to the motel room door, and it wasn’t a truck, as most of you already know. If we’re lucky, we’ll get answers to everyone’s questions today. Okay, people. Let’s make this a productive day.”
Royce ended the briefing and tipped his head at Rue. They walked to Royce’s office together.
“Have a seat, Devon.”
Devon did as instructed and gave Royce an eyebrow raise. “What’s up, Boss?”
“Is there anyone that you can think of who has a beef with Cannon?”
Devon rolled his eyes. “Over the years, who hasn’t?”
“Seriously, Rue. Anyone recently? If anyone would know, it’s you.”
Rue rubbed his forehead. “I really can’t think of anyone. It was our belief that all the murders had been committed by one killer. That killer being Abraham himself until we found him dead.”
“True, but now somebody else has filled his shoes. Do you think Cannon could have been the target all along?”
Devon grimaced. “Honestly, to kill six people just to get to Cannon? That seems like a stretch to me. The person responsible was Abraham—”
“Until it wasn’t. Meaning Abraham wasn’t pulling the strings. He was a hired killer for someone who has a bigger agenda. It’s been weeks since this all began—when Kim Whitman was murdered—and we aren’t any further ahead than we were then. We did learn about Abraham, but now he’s literally a dead end.”
“Except that the family of each victim now knows who killed their loved one.”
“Yet they don’t know why, so they don’t have closure. There isn’t any justice for them since Abraham is dead too. The real killer, even though it wasn’t at his hand, is the person who hired him,” Royce said.
“True, yet we aren’t entirely back to square one. We have bits and pieces of the vehicle in question, the color of it, and possibly the silhouette of it at the motel. With their software, Tech might be able to match up the shape of the SUV or van and headlights to get what they need to identify the vehicle.” Rue smacked his open hand with his fist.
Royce raised a brow. “What?”
“We know there weren’t any cameras directly at that intersection, but where are the nearest PODs? There’s the chance we could catch the vehicle driving away, and if we get a front view of it, we’ll see that the plastic turn signal cover is missing.”
“Great idea, Rue. Go ahead and get on that right away. Utilize Bentley or Lawrence if necessary. We’re going to make this city a much smaller place for that killer. He’ll learn the hard way that the Savannah PD doesn’t quit until the bad guy is in jail.”
Rue left Royce’s office with renewed enthusiasm. He stopped by Bentley and Lawrence’s office and explained what he needed.
“Guys, we need the locations of every POD in the city, especially the closest ones to the intersection of East State Street and Lincoln. Between the three of us, we might get lucky.”
“We’re looking for a sighting of that green vehicle?” Bentley asked.
“That’s exactly what we’re looking for. The color might be hard to discern at night, but if we catch it from the front, it should stand out like a sore thumb. There has to be a certain amount of damage as well as that broken turn signal cover.”
“Yeah, let’s get started. Why don’t you bring your laptop in here, and we can all work together,” Lawrence said. “There’s room for it on that side table, and we have a guest chair you can use.”
“Sure. I’ll be right back.” Rue headed down the hallway, grabbed his laptop, and gave Cannon’s empty desk a look. “We’ll get him, buddy. You can count on it.”
Over the next hour, the three of them came up with locations for a half-dozen PODs scattered throughout the city. None of them were in the historic district, though, since that was considered a safe area of Savannah with high tourism and beat cops regularly walking the streets. The PODs they’d found were in high crime areas where drugs, prostitution, and theft ran rampant. Mom-and-pop corner grocery stores were targeted regularly.
Rue leaned back in his chair and fisted his eyes. “I thought the PODs would help, but in hindsight, they’re only in the crime-ridden areas of the city and for a good reason. The intersection of Lincoln and East State doesn’t qualify as a bad location.”
“Or five blocks in any direction around that,” Bentley said.
“But we don’t know where the person who rammed Cannon lives. He just might have to pass one of those PODs to get home. I’d say they’re still worth checking out.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Rue said. “It’ll take the rest of the day, though.”
“Got other pressing things to do?” Lawrence asked.
“Nope, I sure don’t. At least not until we find out if there’s a color match to a certain vehicle or a serial number for that lens cover.”
Lawrence nodded. “Exactly.”
Seconds later, Royce popped his head around the half-closed door. “How’s it going on the PODs?”
Rue shrugged. “We’ve got their locations nailed down. Now it’s just a matter of watching the vehicles that passed by last night.”
“Okay.” Royce turned to leave. “Oh, by the way, Danny Whitman stopped in earlier.”
“Geez, doesn’t that guy know what a phone is for?” Rue huffed. “What did he want this time, other than to tell us we aren’t working his sister’s case fast enough?”
“He said he heard about Cannon’s accident and wanted to know how he’s doing. I told him he’d be at Mercy until tomorrow and then home for a good few weeks before he returns to work.”
“Wow. That didn’t set him off? You’d think he’d be pissed that there’s one less detective working Kim’s murder,” Rue said.
Bentley frowned. “Speaking of working, I thought that guy had a job as a bail bondsman. Doesn’t he chase bail skippers?”
Royce shook his head. “He runs the business and helps chase skippers when needed, but it’s his money on the line.”
“Seems like he has a lot of free time on his hands. One would think he’d be busier now that Kim’s gone,” Lawrence said.
“Don’t know much about him or how he runs his business,” Royce said. “Maybe he’s taking some time off, or maybe he’s already hired someone to fill her position.” He pointed his chin at the computers. “Let me know if you find something on those PODs. I’m going to check in with Tech and Forensics. If they’ve found out anything, we’ll have a quick meeting with the entire department.” Royce rattled his fingers on the doorframe then walked out.