I sipped a soft drink and munched on a bag of chips, with a second bag at the ready just in case. Soda and salty chips were one of my typical vending machine lunches. As I sat at my desk with my fist propping up my cheek, I slipped on my reading glasses and reviewed the to-do list that hadn’t dwindled down as quickly as I’d hoped. I hadn’t heard back from Lieutenant Cal Morrow in Brownsville, who said he would check with his detectives about the best document forgers in the area. I rattled my fingertips on the desk then pulled up a map of the central states, all the way to Brownsville, Texas. I focused on the route between Poplar Bluff and Brownsville, nearly a thousand miles in a stolen vehicle that we hadn’t yet identified. My gut told me that John’s need to be overly cautious had probably diminished after ridding himself of the Odyssey, along with Nubby and Lon. If we could just figure out what car he was in, we might be able to track his whereabouts. I was sure somebody had been assigned to check out stolen cars within a twenty-mile radius of Poplar Bluff in that general time frame.
I called out to our group of detectives. “Who was in charge of finding out about other stolen cars in the Poplar Bluff area on the day Nubby and Lon were killed?” I flipped through the stack of reports strewn across my desk until I found the one I needed. I held it up and read it. “Which was sometime Monday night.” I looked at each face and waited.
“That was me, and I placed the police report on your desk Thursday afternoon,” Henry said.
I tore through more papers until I found it beneath others I hadn’t had time to look at. “Son of a bitch! Why didn’t I see that earlier? Sorry, Henry.”
He shrugged. “Not a problem. Need help with something?”
“Yeah, get over here and brainstorm with me.” I looked at the police report as Henry grabbed my guest chair and pulled it around to my side of the desk. “Okay, so it looks like four stolen vehicles were reported that night.” I slid a blank sheet of paper over to Henry. “I can read your handwriting better than my own.”
Henry chuckled. “There was a new Pacifica stolen from a big-box store parking lot right in Poplar Bluff, a dump truck was stolen from a construction company five miles from town, an older Corvette was taken from a driveway, and a five-year-old single-cab Chevy pickup was stolen from a bar parking lot. Hmm… and I have my guess as to which one they took.”
I raised my brows with surprise. “Really, that fast?”
Henry snapped back his head. “It’s just common sense. If they were still carrying rifles and a grenade launcher, along with their personal items, they’d need a large vehicle.”
I grinned. “So, the dump truck?”
“Right. I’d say they took the blue Pacifica.”
“I’m with you on that one.” I pulled up the map that I’d opened earlier on my computer. “We already know they removed the plates that were on the Odyssey and probably put them on the Pacifica. Before we get too invested in this search, why don’t you call the Brownsville PD to make sure the Pacifica hasn’t been found and returned to the owner.”
“Sure thing.” Henry went to his desk and made the call while I plotted out the most direct route to Brownsville from Poplar Bluff. Other than several state highways, there were a few interstates they’d have to travel, and they would definitely have plate readers. Where is that Chicago list of stolen plates?”
“That’s also somewhere on your desk.” Henry returned to my guest chair. “And the PD said the Pacifica is still missing.”
I pressed my temples and swore. “Damn mess. I need a cleaning lady for my work space.” I rifled through the papers again and found the sheet listing all the stolen license plates on the same night the Odyssey was taken. There were twenty-nine in all.
“That’s a lot of plates. Why exactly are you checking into this, anyway?”
“Precautionary reasons.” I gulped the last swallow of soda and pitched the can into my wastepaper basket. “Just say John doesn’t return to Chicago like we’re hoping. We still need to know where he’s holed up so he can be brought to justice.”
“But the FBI is working his case.”
“And not doing the best job of it in my opinion. John and Curt are using fake IDs, so the FBI will never find them, because they don’t have that information, but we can, by following the bread crumbs they’ve left behind.” I enlarged the map on my computer and pointed at the interstates. “The most direct route to Brownsville, excluding the state highways, would be by traveling down to Little Rock and catching Interstate 30 between Little Rock and Texarkana. After that, they could have taken Interstate 49 through Shreveport to Mansfield, and then back to the state highways until they got close to Houston. From that point, it’s Interstate 69 and 691 all the way to Brownsville. I’ll give the DOT those stolen plate numbers. They can run them through their system for those interstates and see if they get a hit. It isn’t like they have to do it manually. Everything is automated thanks to Big Brother.”
I made the call, explained our situation, and knew we’d have a wait before getting the answers we were looking for.
The bull pen door opened and closed. Frank was back from Don’s office with the fake autopsy reports. He poked his chin in my direction. “Don did a damn good job on these. John Vance will never know they aren’t the real deal.”
I stuck out my hand and took the paperwork for Maria Vasquez and Mark Conway from him. “Let’s have a look.” I called out to Potter. “Shawn, give Mike a buzz and see if he’s finished enhancing the photos.”
“On it.”
After picking up my reading glasses again, I slipped them on and reviewed the two autopsy reports. They were perfect. “Okay, our ducks are almost in a row. As soon as we have confirmation from Mike, we’ll head over to the hotel and have Jared send these documents off to that phone number John gave him. After that, it’s a waiting game to see if Vance takes the bait. Henry, call downstairs and see if Lee Judd has arrived and been processed into the system yet. If he has, he can sit and stew in a cell while we’re at the hotel. Once we get back, we’ll go downstairs and have a talk with him.”
Seconds later, Potter hung up his phone. “Mike is bringing up the hard copies of the pictures. It’s better not to leave any trails from computers to texts and then to other phones. Jared can take pictures of the reports and photos directly and then send them off to that number.”
“Yep, sounds good.” While we waited, I called Lutz’s office and updated him on everything. He said to call back when we were ready to head out. He wanted to come along to the hotel. With my phone still in hand, I made another call, this time to Jared Bell, and told him to expect us within a half hour and to send his wife and kids down to the pool or game room for at least an hour or longer.
When the door opened again, I glanced over my shoulder. That time it was Mike, and he carried a folder with him.
“Pictures are done, and I’ll admit, they look pretty convincing. If they pass my approval for what a dead person should look like, they’ll easily pass John Vance’s inspection.”
The guys stood at my back as I opened the folder and reviewed the photographs one by one.
Frank let out a low whistle. “Wow, those look like the real deal. Deader than a doornail, so to speak.”
Mike chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I pushed back from my desk. “Thanks for the help, everyone. Now to see if our tactics will actually work.” I made a quick call to Lutz’s phone. “We’re heading out right now.” I jotted down a note to myself to follow up again with Lieutenant Cal Morrow about the local document forgers in Brownsville. I placed the note on top of the two-inch stack of papers already piled, and growing, on my desk. That way, I wouldn’t overlook it when I returned.