Saltwater Graves: A totally gripping crime thriller (Detective Casey White Book 3) by B.R. Spangler

Author:B.R. Spangler [Spangler, B.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781838882594
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2020-12-14T07:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

We made it back to the station having completed as much of our investigation in the field as possible with the tide rising. The team convened inside the conference room as the first crack of thunder exploded over the station, the sailor’s warning ringing true, a storm arriving earlier than expected, dousing the early afternoon and breaking the thick humidity. Nichelle, Emanuel, and Cheryl were already in their seats, the conference room monitor showing the victim from the beach, and her name: Pamela Levine. The window curtains were half drawn, the storm clouds darkening the sky enough to allow us to use the projector to throw a map onto the front wall, a myriad of digital thumbtacks strewn across the familiar outline of the Outer Banks.

As I made my way to the head of the table, Tracy joined, rushing through the door, her face sweaty and flushed, her book bag draped from one shoulder, the weight of it causing her to walk on a slant. “Sorry I’m late,” she announced to the room.

“You’re good?” I asked, concerned. Tracy’s eyes brightened, assuring me she was okay while taking her place at the table, laptop plugged in, notebooks open and camera at the ready. “Okay then, let’s get started.”

“Fuel for boats,” Emanuel said, crossing the projector’s light, which threw his shadow onto the wall as he took a place in front of the map. “The orange thumbtacks are all the gas stations within five miles of boat ramps.”

“And the purple ones?” I asked.

“Gas stations on the water,” he answered. “They’re everywhere. Any boat can pull up to these and get fuel.”

“And how about surveillance cameras?”

“I’m working with the owners, collecting whatever we can get,” Nichelle answered, turning her laptop around for us to see a checkerboard of video surveillance footage feeds, each showing boat owners and station attendants at work. “Some of the stations have no surveillance, or it was never maintained and is just there for show, to scare off thieves.”

“Brilliant,” I said sarcastically, disappointed with the hole in the coverage, the idea as a lead feeling weak. This was the Outer Banks and there were far too many fuel places for us to cover. “Go ahead and review the footage, but make it less of a priority. How about the other thumbtacks?”

Nichelle flicked her mouse, clicking to reveal a legend on the map, each series of colors assigned a victim’s name. She took a turn at the screen, her shadow growing as she stepped around the map. “I’ve finally managed to get access to the phone company records of the first two victims, and have listed all the locations visited the days before their murders.”

“The phone company came through,” I said, crossing my arms, satisfied by the progress. Some of the thumbtacks were adjacent to roads, while some were in fields and other places no one would visit. “I’m guessing these are cell tower locations?”

“Exactly,” Nichelle said with a wide smile. “Ann Choplin’s privacy settings didn’t allow for her locations to be recorded, so we used cell tower pings to her phone to generate coordinates and map them.

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