Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Sir?”

The men glanced toward the doorway where Webb stood, a sheaf of papers in his hand. “I have the information you asked for.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

Dare grabbed the papers, then dropped them to the desk. “Every white van registered in the state.”

Cam let out a low whistle as he flipped idly through the pages. “This is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Over five hundred vans,” Sawyer muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt the familiar ache of exhaustion settling in, but pushed it aside. There was too much at stake. “It’s not impossible, but it’s damn close.”

Dare was already pulling out a map of the surrounding counties. “We need to narrow this down. Let’s focus on the counties near Brookhaven first. The van was seen at the restaurant on the night of the murder; it’s likely local or at least nearby.”

The three men began to work, marking off counties one by one. After an hour of meticulous cross-referencing and eliminating vehicles registered in distant counties, they managed to reduce the list. When they finished, Sawyer leaned back, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table.

“We’re down to 72,” Sawyer said, though the relief in his voice was minimal. “Still a lot, but better than 500.”

“Most of these vans belong to businesses,” Dare pointed out, scrutinizing the list. “We need to rule out the ones with decals or any kind of signage. The one Cochran saw was plain white, no markings.”

Cam was already pulling up his laptop, the screen reflecting the intense focus in his eyes. “I’ll start with the small businesses, see if we can find any information on their vehicles. A lot of these companies have websites or at least social media. If they’ve got pictures of their fleet, we can cut down the list even more.”

They fell into a rhythm, each man tasked with scouring the web for details. Websites, social media pages, even local news reports—anything that might show whether a business had marked vehicles. It was tedious work, but slowly, the number of potential vans began to shrink. One by one, they crossed names off the list, marking the businesses that had identifiable vans.

“Down to 34,” Cam said after a couple of hours. “This is getting better, but still too many to just go knocking on doors.”

Dare nodded, his expression grim. “We’ll need to dig deeper into these last few. It’s a start, but we’re going to need more information before we can pinpoint the right one.”

Sawyer tapped his pen against the table, thinking. “We should hand off the list to a couple of deputies, have them run background checks on the drivers. Maybe one of them has a record that stands out.”

“Good idea,” Dare agreed. “We can’t afford to miss anything. Every detail counts.”

With that, Sawyer grabbed the list and headed out to the main office. Two deputies, Webb and Landry, were at their desks, filling out reports. Sawyer handed them the list, explaining the task at hand.

“I want you both to run background checks on every name here,” he instructed. “Look for anything that might connect these drivers to the case—criminal records, outstanding warrants, anything that raises a red flag.”

Landry nodded, already reaching for his computer. “We’re on it.”

As Sawyer returned to the office, Cam looked up, his expression fierce. “At least we’re moving in the right direction. If there’s a link to be found, we’ll find it.”

Sawyer stared at the whiteboard, tension rippling through him. “We have to. Whoever’s behind this has been careful, but they’ve slipped up somewhere. It’s just a matter of time before we catch them.”

There were still too many unknowns, too many questions left unanswered. But with every name they crossed off, they were one step closer to finding the truth.

And once they did, there would be nowhere left for the killer to hide.

* * *

Sawyer and Cam were seated at their desks, reviewing case files when Yvonne knocked on the doorjamb. “Maureen Ray would like to speak with you—both of you.”

Sawyer lifted a brow at Cam, who shrugged. Though Sawyer had moved to Brookhaven nearly a year ago, he still didn’t know a majority of the residents. Apparently, Cam wasn’t familiar with Mrs. Ray, either.

“Show her to the conference room.”

Yvonne nodded and disappeared, and the men headed toward the conference room down the hall. A minute later, an older woman joined them, her expression strained.

“Mrs. Ray?” Sawyer asked, moving forward to greet her. “I’m Detective Sawyer Reed, and this is Lieutenant Cam McCoy. How can we help you today?”

Maureen’s voice was choked with emotion as she began to speak. “I’m here to report my daughter, Fallon Ray, missing. She didn’t show up to work for the past two days, which is completely unlike her. Her employer called me, as I’m listed as her emergency contact. I tried calling and texting her, but there’s been no response.”

Sawyer and Cam exchanged a quick, concerned glance. They gestured for Maureen to sit down at the empty table beside them.

“Go on,” Cam encouraged gently.

“I went to her house this morning,” Maureen continued, her hands trembling slightly. “The door was locked, and I had to use the spare key to get in. Everything seemed... normal. There’s nothing out of place, nothing missing. Her car is still in the garage, which means she should be here. It’s like she just… vanished.”

Sawyer took notes as Maureen spoke, trying to piece together the timeline. “Did Fallon mention anything recently that seemed out of the ordinary? Any arguments, changes in her routine, or personal issues?”

Maureen shook her head. “Not really. She’d picked up some extra hours at work and seemed a bit stressed, but she didn’t say anything about problems. She was just her usual self, really.”

“Where does she work?”

“Boho Boutique.” At Sawyer’s blank look, she elaborated. “It’s a small shop in the same plaza as the hardware store.”

Cam nodded. “We’ll need to start by checking her recent activities and any potential contacts who might have seen her or had interactions with her recently. We’ll also need to look into her workplace and see if anyone there noticed anything unusual.”

Maureen’s eyes filled with tears, her voice breaking. “Please, you have to find her. Fallon is everything to me. I can’t imagine what could have happened. I’ve already checked with her friends and colleagues, and no one knows anything.”

Sawyer placed a reassuring hand on Maureen’s shoulder. “We understand how distressing this must be for you, Mrs. Ray. We’ll get started on this immediately. We’ll check with her workplace, her friends, and anyone who might have seen her recently. We’ll do everything we can to find your daughter.”

Maureen nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and desperation. “Thank you. I just want her back safe. Please, don’t stop until you find her.”

Sawyer and Cam assured her they would do everything possible, and Maureen left the office, her shoulders slumped with misery. As the door closed behind her, Sawyer turned a concerned look Cam’s way. “Another missing girl?”

Cam grimaced. “And she’s apparently been missing for at least two days already.”

It didn’t bode well—not at all. “We need to get on this yesterday,” Sawyer said, standing up. “Let’s start with her house.”

An hour later Cam and Sawyer, accompanied by deputies Evan Landry and Tony Webb, arrived at Fallon Ray's home. Maureen Ray's distress was still fresh in Sawyer's mind as they prepared to delve deeper into the scene.

As Maureen had reported, nothing seemed out of place. Personal items were in their usual spots, and there were no signs of a struggle inside. Sawyer scanned the rooms, noting the calm, almost too calm, state of the house.

Sawyer glanced at the deputies. “Check all points of entry. We’ll need to print the windows and doors. Look for anything out of place.”

With a nod to the deputies, Sawyer pulled on a pair of gloves and made his way to the garage. He was determined to find something—anything—that could provide a clue to Fallon’s disappearance.

He paused at the bottom of the steps that led into the kitchen, his gaze sweeping over the small space. As Mrs. Ray stated, Fallon’s car was parked in its rightful spot inside the single car garage. A solid steel door situated in the wall across from him drew his attention, and he crossed over to it. The door was locked from the inside, and he tested it to be sure. Opening the door, he inspected the outside. There was no sign of forced entry.

Locking up one more, Sawyer turned his focus back to the car. Peering in through the window, he studied the inside. The car’s interior was clean, organized, and seemingly untouched. Sawyer popped open the driver’s side door and started his examination. The first thing he noticed was Fallon’s purse still sitting on the floorboard in front of the passenger seat.

The sight of it gave him pause. If she’d been planning to leave, she would likely have taken her purse with her. Of course, people occasionally left everything behind in an attempt to disappear. Without a lot of cash, though, it was significantly more difficult.

Sawyer pulled the purse out and opened it briefly. It was filled with the usual items—wallet, phone, keys. He set it aside, his mind racing with questions. Assuming she had, in fact, been kidnapped, why was her purse still in the car? Had she intended to leave or was she simply arriving home?

His gaze flicked upward, and he noticed a depression on the driver’s side visor. He reached up and checked it carefully. It was a slim line, the kind a clip left—like from a garage door opener.

Sawyer continued his inspection of the car. Without a garage door opener, Fallon’s car had no way of getting into or out of the garage unless the door was manually operated or left open. Moving swiftly, Sawyer checked under the seats and in the trunk, looking for any overlooked evidence. Everything appeared to be in order except for the missing garage door opener.

Sawyer moved on, checking the back seat, the trunk, inside the console and glove box, but there was no garage door opener in sight.

Sawyer moved back into the house where the others were still taking photos and collecting evidence.

“Hey,” Sawyer called out, his voice carrying through the small home. “I need you guys to check the house again, especially around the entry points. See if you can find a garage door opener.”

Evan and Tony exchanged puzzled glances but nodded and went inside the house. Cam strode across the living room toward him. “Find something?”

“Maybe. Fallon’s purse is still in the car, along with her wallet and phone.”

“Interesting.” Cam’s brows dipped together. “Her keys are on the kitchen counter.”

The deputies returned from their search, shaking their heads. “Nothing in the house,” Tony reported. “But the garage door opener isn’t anywhere to be found.”

Sawyer nodded slowly and glanced at Cam. “If it’s the same guy, we know he’s meticulous. He obviously studies these women—knows their habits, their schedules…”

Cam nodded, following his train of thought. “We still don’t know if this was the same guy who killed Lindsey, but this reminds me of Lindsey’s house. No forced entry, nothing missing…” He propped his hands on his hips and glanced around. “Maybe that’s how he got in and out.”

“Could be,” Sawyer agreed.

He glanced over the exterior of Fallon’s small condo. She lived in the end unit of a triplex, with two neighbors to her left, as well as an identical condo unit across the street. “We need to find out if anyone saw her that night.”

The deputies joined them, and Sawyer turned their way. “We’ll need to check with Fallon’s neighbors, see if they noticed anything or anyone out of the ordinary over the past couple of weeks. We need to find out who might have had the opportunity to access her home or observe her routine. Cam and I are going to head over to the shop where she worked, see what they can tell us. Keep us posted if you find anything.”

The deputies nodded their assent, prepared to canvass the neighborhood, and Sawyer and Cam climbed into the car. Finding Fallon was the top priority, and every minute spent on this case could mean the difference between finding her alive or too late.