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Me: Sure thing. On my way.
I’m in Tybee Island, about a thirty-minute drive from the center of Savannah. On a good day, I can make it in twenty, and as I open the throttle on the motorcycle, the world rushes past me. I’ve driven a motorcycle since I was old enough for a license, and it never gets old.
As I get closer to Savannah, I hit some traffic, and it looks like roadblocks have been set up on routes in and out of town. Officers are stopping vehicles going in both directions, and it takes a while to get through. When I’ve finally navigated the traffic, I hit more as I near the precinct. There are at least twenty or so reporters, some with television crews camped outside. It seems an escaped prisoner in town is big news. I find somewhere to park the bike and fight my way through the crowd surrounding the entrance. Inside, Logan is waiting by the front desk for me.
“Sawyer,” he calls across the room. I acknowledge him, shaking his outstretched hand when I reach him. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”
“No problem. I’m guessing it’s something to do with all that out there?” I gesture with my head to the entrance, and he nods.
“Come on. I’ll fill you in as we head upstairs.” Following him, we head to the elevator. “Around ten years ago, a thirteen-year-old girl was abducted from a park in Savannah. She disappeared for six months, turning up again on the side of the road in Cedar Falls, Iowa. Matthew Bryant and his wife, Amanda, were arrested on abduction charges. When their house was searched, the bodies of five young girls were found in shallow graves in the woodlands behind their property, one of which was their daughter.”
“Bastards,” I mutter as the elevator doors open, and we step inside. Logan pushes the button for the third floor, and the doors close behind us.
“Amanda Bryant died in prison a week ago. She’d been unwell for some time but refused treatment. Today was the funeral. By some cruel twist of fate, the service was held here in Savannah.”
“What the hell? Why would they do that?”
“Apparently, her only living relative lives here.” He raises his eyebrows, and I nod in silent agreement.
“I doubt very much it was a coincidence.”
“I thought the same.”
“So, how did he get away?”
“Three guys with semi-automatics and a pair of bolt cutters. It took less than a minute. Two dead and four shook-up witnesses.”
“What do you need me for?” The elevator chimes and the doors open onto an open-plan office space. Desks fill the area, and the hum of voices carries through the air.
“One of the witnesses was the girl Bryant abducted, Hallie Anderson. She’s twenty-four now. Wilmot thinks he’s going to come back for her.”
“Does she know Wilmot’s asked for protection?” He shakes his head, and I sigh. I’ve worked for Safe Haven Security as a close protection officer for the past five years. For the last two, the company has had a contract with the Savannah Police Department, providing protection when needed. I’ve worked with the police a handful of times but trying to protect someone who doesn’t want protection or thinks they don’t need it, is a pain in the ass.
We come to a stop outside an office door. “We’re meeting with Wilmot first, then the girl. Her parents have arrived, and she’s here with her friend. Both of them witnessed what happened at the cemetery today.” Logan knocks on the door, and I follow him inside.
“Logan, Sawyer, good to see you both. Take a seat,” Detective Wilmot says, gesturing to the spare seats. In the room with him are three other senior officers sitting around a large conference table. Papers and images are scattered across the table, and as I take a seat, my eyes drop to the image directly in front of me. A young girl stares up at me. Her face is smeared with dirt, and her eyes are red and puffy from crying. There’s blood on her clothes, and her hair is messy and tangled. I’m guessing this is Hallie Anderson after she managed to escape the Bryant house. I can’t help feeling angry as I look at her picture. She must have been terrified at what that bastard did. I’m glad she got away but I can see from the images on the table others weren’t so lucky.
“Any sightings?” Logan asks as he sits in the seat next to mine.
Wilmot shakes his head. “No. We’ve set up roadblocks, but they’ve changed vehicles. We found the black van from the cemetery abandoned by Forsyth Park. They either had another car waiting or they stole one.” He sighs and runs his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “He could be anywhere by now.”
“Any prints found in the van?” I ask.
“CSI has managed to lift a print. We’ve run it through the database, but there’s been no match,” Wilmot says.
“It wasn’t Bryant’s print then?” Logan asks, and Wilmot shakes his head.
“You think he’s here for the girl?” I ask.
“I think there’s a good chance. Hallie’s parents have approached me. They’re keen for her to move out of Savannah with protection while we catch him. They’ve warned me they don’t think she’ll be keen on the idea, though.”
“She doesn’t think Bryant’s a threat?” I raise my eyebrows in question, and he shakes his head.
“She was terrified at the cemetery. From what her parents tell me, she already feels like she’s lost ten years of her life at the hands of this man. They don’t think she’ll want to put her life on hold again.” He shrugs and shakes his head. “We need to convince her she needs you. As much as she won’t want to admit it, she’s vulnerable.”
“What are we looking at? Round-the-clock close protection?” Logan asks from next to me. He’s asked the question, but we already know the answer. With a threat this great, there’s no other option.
Wilmot nods. “We can put you both in a safe house out of town. She’s going to take some convincing, though.” He stands up. “I’ll get the Bryant file emailed to you so you can have all the information on this bastard.”
