QUANTICO, VIRGINIA,
AUGUST 17, 7:59 A.M. EDT
You have an outside call, Mr. Colton,” the DGT operator said. “Mrs. Ruth Ponder.”
“I don’t know a Ruth Ponder. Who is she?”
“She says she’s from Catoosa County, Georgia, and that she thinks you’re looking for the same person. She has information about him.”
Matt sat straight in his chair. “Connect her.”
A second later Ruth Ponder said, “Hello? Mr. Colton?”
“This is Matt Colton. How may I help you?”
“I thought we might help each other, Mr. Colton. My husband, Amos, was killed in that mass shooting you may have heard about? It was on all the news channels?”
Ruth Ponder had Matt’s undivided attention.
“Yes, Mrs. Ponder, I’m aware of the shooting. I’m very sorry to hear about your husband.”
“Well, thank you, sir. I’ll try to make this simple, Mr. Colton, since I believe I can anticipate most of your questions.”
Matt was anxious to get to the point, but Ruth Ponder’s gracious manner and deliberate cadence reminded him of his maternal grandmother. Urgency did not trump courtesy. “Go ahead, ma’am.”
“I’ve been trying to find the man or men who killed Amos and those other unfortunate individuals. So, along with several friends, we’ve spent some time calling around. Now, please understand, I’ve got no complaint against the law enforcement folks. They’ve got a tough job and their hands are full. We just thought we could help a bit.”
“Yes, ma’am. I understand.”
“Well, two of my friends noticed that the name ‘DGT’ had come up more than a few times in our conversations with law enforcement and the like. And then we realized that we were asking some of the same questions as DGT. That got me curious, so my friend Amy was kind enough to look you folks up and she found your website. Am I right that you’re military contractors?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you sometimes help the government or military when they’re stretched kind of thin?”
“That’s correct.”
“Now, I’ve been told that folks like you all sometimes can move faster and can find out things that maybe the police can’t find out, because of the way they have to do things.”
“On occasion that may be true.”
“We understand you were asking about a scary-looking man who had with him some foreigners or some foreign-looking people who got in a vehicle at a truck stop near Albemarle.”
“We were indeed.”
“And you were very interested in a green vehicle that looked like it was made by Ford because—and here I may be jumping to conclusions—the scary-looking guy had abandoned Amos’s LaCrosse.”
“Yes, Mrs. Ponder. We are looking for a green vehicle, but so far we haven’t been able to identify it. The video we have is inconclusive and from what we understand the FBI hasn’t been able to make much progress yet either.”
“Well, that’s where we maybe can help each other out, Mr. Colton. We figured the scary man with the foreign-looking friends wasn’t from around there. So if he just dropped off Amos’s LaCrosse, he would’ve had to steal another car—meaning the green vehicle—or he had to have bought or rented that car, right?”
“I suppose that’s true, Mrs. Ponder.”
“You know, Mr. Colton, Amos was very fond of that LaCrosse. It was the nicest car we ever had. He was very proud of it, too. He kept it clean, polished, and in perfect running condition. We—”
Matt heard unintelligible chatter on the other end. Then Ruth Ponder’s melodic voice came back on the line.
“I apologize, Mr. Colton. My daughter tells me that I’m rambling and I need to get to the point. You’re a very busy man, no doubt.”
“No apologies necessary, Mrs. Ponder. You’ve just lost your husband. Please, take your time.”
“Thank you for being such a gentleman, Mr. Colton. It still hasn’t hit me, I suppose, and when it does I’ll probably shut up and stop talking for days. Anyway, here’s my point: The scary-looking guy bought two vehicles, cash, from Mr. Rob Brock less than a quarter mile from the truck stop. He bought a 1996 forest-green Ford Windstar minivan and a 2001 or 2002 white Chevy Caprice. The Windstar had a small dent in the passenger door. They still have their original tags. The state of North Carolina tag number for the Windstar is WYF2312 and for the Chevy Caprice the number is MTR7213 . . .”
“This is enormously helpful, ma’am.”
“Will you be able to find the scary-looking man?”
“We’ll run this through our systems and forward it to all of the appropriate law enforcement agencies, Mrs. Ponder.”
“But do you think you’ll get him?”
“Ma’am, we have a pretty good idea who this man is. He’s not an ordinary criminal. For that matter, he’s not an ordinary person. Honestly, I can’t make any promises because getting him will be very, very tough. I can tell you this: The very best people in the country are looking for him, and we will do our very, very best to get him and his foreign-looking friends. And your information helps. A lot.”
“Well, Mr. Colton . . . May I call you Matt?”
“Always, Mrs. Ponder.”
“Thank you, Matt. That’s all one can ask. Will you do me one favor, though?”
“What’s that, ma’am?”
“When you do find him and his foreign-looking friends, would you please call me to let me know? I left my number with your answering lady.”
“You can bet on it, Mrs. Ponder.”
“Thank you, Matt. And good luck.”
Matt disconnected and instantly made another call.
“Dwyer.”
“I have the license numbers for the vehicles Bor’s driving.”
“Outstanding. Alert our folks, starting with Garin. Then law enforcement, starting with the FBI. Olivia’s right here. She’ll get them to Brandt. How in the world did you find him?”
“I didn’t. Mrs. Ponder did.”