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“The ACLU has gotten involved, and they’ve convinced a different judge to block the warrant. They’re claiming that if the member names are released than the police will be on a witch hunt for a group of non-violent men.”
“Well, Daniel Oglesby didn’t torture himself,” I said.
“You’re preaching to the choir, sister. We’ll get it overturned,” Colburn said. “But it’s going to put us behind schedule.”
“What did you find out about the branding iron?” Jack asked Lewis.
Lewis flipped through his own stack of paper. “I’ve got two different Internet orders for the design in question, but neither of them were delivered to the state of Virginia. One went to Texas and the other to Kentucky. But the thing they both have in common is that they were paid for through a bogus bank account under the name of a man who’s been dead for ten years.”
“What’s the name?” I asked, excitement running through my veins.
“Frank Greenbaum,” he said. “Ring a bell?”
“You could say that,” Jack said. He passed around the photo I’d found inside George. “He’s standing right there on the end. He’s got his arm thrown around George’s shoulders. Was there any other activity out of that account?”
“Nope. Two transactions. Then it was shut down.”
Jack looked at the photo again and said, “I want you to do a search for bank accounts under the name of Jesse Fife. He’s the only other one in this photo besides George and Frank that are dead. See if you can find that money trail.”
“You got it, boss,” Lewis said.
Jack went over to the white board and picked up his marker. “Doc Randall was given an up front payment of a quarter of a million dollars to steal that drug from the hospital. And another payment in the same amount was supposed to be delivered after. Maybe that’s why he opened the door to his killer. He was expecting that payment. Though he probably wasn’t expecting it in person. Both Doctor Vances have access to Augusta General, just like Doc Randall. What do you want to bet they know each other?”
Jack drew connecting lines on his white board between Doc Randall and both of the Vances.
“You keep going back to the Vances,” I said. “But they have alibis for the night we found Daniel Oglesby.”
“Except for William Vance, who apparently sleeps alone,” Jack said. “We did check out their alibis for yesterday when George was killed and again this morning when we found the blood at Doc Randall’s. Everyone is accounted for.”
“My gut is just screaming that there’s something off about the Vances,” he said. “I know at least one of them is involved. I saw the look Gregory Vance gave us when Lewis came in to tell me about George. He knew exactly what had happened. But what better alibi than to volunteer to come in and answer any questions while one of his membership was being murdered?”
Now that he put it that way, I could see his point.
“It would take someone of some strength to force that gun in George’s hand and pull the trigger,” Carver chimed in. “Just like it would take a man of some strength to lift Daniel Oglesby’s body and chain him to that tree. Two different methods, but our profiler agrees that the same person could have been involved in both. She also agrees with you about Hank Randall’s death.”
It had been a while since I’d heard anyone call Doc Randall by his first name, so I had to think about whom Carver was talking about.
“Go on,” Jack said, giving Carver the floor.
“Our profiler thinks whoever killed Hank Randall was a novice, like you said. There was no thought or planning involved other than what time of day would be best to get away with murder. The killer was probably nervous and jittery. And maybe Doc Randall used that against him, trying to talk him down or give him misinformation to prolong his life.”
“We found prints that didn’t belong to Doc Randall at the scene,” Jack confirmed. “But we don’t have anyone to match them to at this point.”
“It’s just another mistake out of many,” Carver agreed. “I know your men haven’t found a murder weapon or a body, but the profiler thinks it’ll be a match for the one taken from Vaughn Raines’ safe. They’re trying to cloud your judgment and throw as many scenarios at you as possible. But they’re starting to make mistakes. We’ll get them eventually.”
“But before how many others are killed?” Martinez asked.
“Then we’d better step up our game,” Jack said. “What we’ve got is three murders—Oglesby, George and Doc Randall—and three styles of killing. Three different CODs.”
“Three Vances,” I added.
Jack looked at me and nodded. “Except Doctor Gregory Vance was being questioned by us during George’s murder. Let’s take a closer look at his sons.”
“We talked to the boys you’ve got doing surveillance on them,” Lewis said. “We’ll take our shift on surveillance in the next couple of hours. We’re stretched thin, boss. There’s not enough manpower to go with the hours in the day.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Jack said. “Put in for personal time off after this is over.”
Lewis shrugged it off and said, “The deputies who’re on duty now said it’s been pretty straight-forward, but we did a thorough background on both of them and did follow-ups like you asked.”
