The next day Donovan telephoned the sheriff in Rikersville, Georgia, LuAnn’s hometown. Roy Waymer had died five years ago. Ironically, the current sheriff was Billy Harvey, Duane’s uncle. Harvey was very talkative with Donovan when the subject of LuAnn came up.
“She got Duane killed,” he said angrily. “She got him involved in those drugs sure as I’m talking to you. The Harvey family ain’t got much, but we got our pride.”
“Have you heard from her in any way over the last ten years?” Donovan asked.
Billy Harvey paused for a lengthy moment. “Well, she sent down some money.”
“Money?”
“To Duane’s folks. They didn’t ask for it, I can tell you that.”
“Did they keep it?”
“Well, they’re on in years and poorer’n dirt. You don’t just turn your back on that kind of money.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars. If that doesn’t show LuAnn’s guilty conscience, I don’t know what would.”
Donovan whistled under his breath. “Did you try to trace the money?”
“I wasn’t sheriff then, but Roy Waymer did. He even had some local FBI boys over to help, but they never turned up a durn thing. She’s helped some other people round here too, but we could never get a handle on her whereabouts from them either. Like she was a damned ghost or something.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, you ever talk to her, you tell her that the Harvey family ain’t forgot, not even after all these years. That murder warrant is still outstanding. We get her back to Georgia, she’ll be spending some nice quality time with us. I’m talking twenty to life. No statute of limitations on murder. Am I right?”
“I’ll let her know, Sheriff, thanks. Oh, I’m wondering if you could send me a copy of the file on the case. The autopsy reports, investigative notes, forensics, the works?”
“You really think you can find her after all this time?”
“I’ve been doing this kind of stuff for thirty years and I’m pretty good at it. I’m sure going to try.”
“Well, then I’ll send it up to you, Mr. Donovan.”
Donovan gave Harvey the Trib’s FedEx number and address, hung up, and wrote down some notes. Tyler had a new name, that was for certain. In order even to begin to track her down, he had to find out what that name was.
He spent the next week exploring every crevice of LuAnn’s life. He got copies of her parents’ death notices from the Rikersville Gazette. Obituaries were full of interesting items: birthplaces, relatives, and other items that could conceivably lead him to some valuable information. Her mother had been born in Charlottesville, Virginia. Donovan talked to the relatives listed in the obituary, at least the few who were alive, but received few useful facts. LuAnn had never tried to contact them.
Next, Donovan dug up as many facts as he could on LuAnn’s last day in the country. Donovan had conversations with personnel from the NYPD and the FBI field office in New York. Sheriff Waymer had seen her on TV and immediately notified the police in New York that LuAnn was wanted in Georgia in connection with a double murder and drug trafficking. They, in turn, had put a blanket over the bus and train stations, and the airports. In a city of seven million, that was the best they could do; they couldn’t exactly put up roadblocks. However, there hadn’t been one sign of the woman. That had greatly puzzled the FBI. According to the agent Donovan talked to who was somewhat familiar with the file, the Bureau wanted to know how a twenty-year-old woman with a seventh-grade education from rural Georgia, carrying a baby no less, had waltzed right through their net. An elaborate disguise and cover documents were out of the question, or so they thought. The police had thrown out their net barely a half hour after she had appeared on national television. No one was that fast. And all the money had disappeared as well. At the time, some at the FBI had wondered whether she had had help. But that lead had never been followed up as other crises of more national importance had swallowed up the Bureau’s time and manpower. They had officially concluded that LuAnn Tyler had not left the country, but had simply driven out of New York or taken the subway to a suburb and then lost herself somewhere in the country or perhaps Canada. The NYPD had reported its failure to Sheriff Waymer and that had been the end of it. Until now. Now, Donovan was greatly intrigued. His gut told him that LuAnn Tyler had left the country. Somehow she had gotten past the law. If she had gotten on a plane, then he had something to work with.