Off the Grid

Jodie nodded and leading off, they walked down the hallway away from the stairs. Shades covered all the windows. Weak daylight filtered in through the gaps but the house was dark the further in they went and Jodie took out her small flashlight and turned it on. She crossed her left hand with the flashlight over the hand with the gun. Now the light would follow her muzzle and add some stability as opposed to aiming with one hand. Dust drifted through the beam. The further into the home Jodie walked the scent of the place became stronger. It smelled like damp socks and old potatoes in a cupboard. She wrinkled her nose at the scent and wandered past a kitchen and into a living room. An empty aquarium sat on a half wall. A large TV, not a flat screen but the older kind with a tube inside and requiring four burly people to move it anywhere was sitting against a wall. A coffee table littered with dirty glasses and a bag of goldfish crackers within arms reach of the love seat in front of the older TV completed the room. A door stood open to the left of the TV. Stairs lead down.

Jodie tread down the stairs. She tested each step with her foot and eased her weight slowly onto the boards to minimize any creaks all basement stairs seemed to make. She reached the bottom. The creaking steps of the officers behind her stopped as Jodie glanced around the open room. Jodie saw wooden studs outlining rooms that were planned to be. Pink insulation and plastic covered the exterior walls. Photos were taped to the insulation. They were photos of children Francine’s age. The pictures were taken at different places. Children at splash pads, at a park and outside of a school. A lot of different pictures and a lot of different kids. The kids weren’t posing either. They weren’t looking at the camera or seemed to be engaging with the person taking the picture at all. These pictures were taken by a watcher. By someone who didn’t want the kids or the parents to know the pictures were even being taken. Right in the bottom corner, Jodie saw a picture of Francine.

Behind her, Officer Bowles said, “Jesus. That’s my son there. Brady. What the fuck is my son doing there?”

Jodie said, “Let’s go.”

Jodie continued to shine her light around the basement until she found a hallway of unpainted drywall. She saw two doors. One of them was open.

Jodie stepped across the dusty floor, her gun and light pointed at the open door. She peered around the corner and saw a dresser with a lamp on it, a bed against the wall and a pair of handcuffs attached to a chain secured to an eyebolt secured to the concrete of the floor.

Jodie inhaled a deep breath and went to one knee to be lower in the doorway. Standing, if the man was in the room holding a gun, he’d be pointing at where her chest might be so she didn’t want to be standing when she entered the room. She kept her flashlight high for that reason, to potentially trick him into aiming high. She moved into the room low and fast and was hit with the stench of blood. She had been to so many sudden death scenes and murder scenes, she knew the smell of blood. She wrinkled her nose and her beam lit upon a man lying on the floor. He was on his back and Jodie thinking he was dead and in the mean part of her mind, glad he was dead because fuck him, she started to holster her gun and the man coughed. Blood sprayed from his mouth in a mist and Jodie felt some of it land as a light spatter on her face. And once again she thought, Fuck him.

Jodie kicked everyone out of the crime scene and let the ambulance people in to collect Ned Grough, the kidnapper. The fire department wanted to come in as well because they were curious and gossipmongers, but Jodie forbid them entry. No one fucked up a crime scene more than the personnel of the fire department. Not only did they like tromping through a scene with their big boots, moon-eyed and mouth agape, they also enjoyed ripping down drywall for some reason. They made a real mess of any crime scene and if they didn’t need to be in the home, no reason to let them near the place at all. Once Ned was out and safely on his way to the hospital with a police escort, the forensic identification officers descended with their evidence bags, swabs, and cameras. Francine was safe at home and now, because of the stranger, Ned’s goose was cooked. While securing the scene and arranging for the identification officers and more resources, Jodie was also thinking about the good samaritan stranger. Jodie had a strong suspicion, bordering on certainty, that the mysterious stranger had been Graham. So far, there’d be no way to prove it.

After she left the scene, Jodie was driving home to have a shower and get some much-needed rest, and the more she thought about it, the more confident she was that the stranger was Graham. She didn’t know why she was so certain, but she was. Especially after the formal interview with Francine under the watchful eye of her parents. While the forensic identification officers were doing their thing at the house, Jodie went back to Francine’s home. With the permission of her parents, Jodie interviewed Francine using a video camera on a tripod. This was after Francine had been checked out by ambulance personnel. A follow-up doctor appointment was made for the following day. The interview was very interesting. Jodie couldn’t help but comment on how brave Francine had been throughout the whole ordeal. The intriguing portion of the interview had to do with the mysterious stranger. Francine said she hadn’t seen the man’s face, not fully, but what she had seen made her think the shape of it was wrong. Jodie, leaning in asked what Francine meant by that. What did she mean when she said the shape was wrong? Francine couldn’t explain what she meant by it being wrong, only that the shape was different. This vague yet perceptive description made Jodie think of Graham. Did Graham have an odd-shaped head? Check. Did Graham know he was a suspect in the disappearance of Francine? You bet. And did Graham, who lived out in the middle of nowhere, want anyone, especially the police, bothering him? Nope. How to make all that go away? Get Francine back, that’s how. The problem with her theory was the how of it. How did he know where Francine was? How did he find her, free her and leave without leaving a trace of himself behind? There were no other fingerprints in the home other than Ned’s and Francine’s. So, Graham must have worn gloves. In the fight with Ned, even if Graham had bled and they collected that unsoiled sample somehow from the bloody mess left on the floor, Jodie would need a DNA warrant to get a sample of Graham’s blood to compare to the blood at the scene. And how would they get that? What judge would sign an authorization to compel Graham to submit his DNA based upon the word of a traumatized little girl as evidence? She could ask Graham for a consent sample but why? What was the main goal here? What could she do? More importantly, should she even do anything? There is an alternative theory here. Graham could’ve been involved, felt that the cops were getting too close to him and wanted to return Francine to her home. When he went to the home to do that, he got into the fight with Ned because maybe Ned wasn’t ready to return her. But, if that was the case, why didn’t Graham just kill the guy? Why leave a witness behind who could put you in the cell right beside them for a long, long time? If you were going to abduct a child from her home, would you get squeamish about murdering your partner to prevent going to jail? Jodie never would have known where Francine had been held captive if he just dropped her off at home and left. And besides, Ned hadn’t said anything about a partner. It could only help him in whatever deal he was trying to swing to stay out of jail and be the target of all other prisoners. Child predators were not well-liked in prison. They usually had to be placed in protective custody. He definitely would have told on a partner. It wouldn’t make sense to stay silent on that information. And then there was the evidence. All the evidence of the offence was in Ned’s home. Beside the computer in the basement was printed instructions on how to make your own chloroform. A DIY for rapists and child molesters. And on a table beside the computer desk were the ingredients and a capped bottle of homemade chloroform. From what she understood, it was tricky to get the mixture right. Ned had been lucky he hadn’t killed Francine with it. Still, the stranger aspect was a problem.

The more Jodie mulled it over she knew she would have to investigate that avenue and show that she did all that she could to identify the stranger. If she didn’t do that, the defence would suggest it had been the mysterious stranger who had been the kidnapper and had planted the evidence on Ned when the searches and the news coverage had made him nervous. Considering all of the evidence, it would be a ridiculous counter theory. But Ned was looking at a long, long time in jail and so the defence would be obligated to try anything. It would be better for her to close the door on that nonsense. So, Jodie would have to look into Graham. He was the only one in her mind who could have saved Francine. She had no evidence other than the unclear description of a scared little girl but she would have to try. Jodie had to admit, she was painfully curious to find out how Graham had located Francine. At this point though, that part of the investigation would have to wait. She still had a lot to tidy up at the scene and this would give her plenty of reason to forestall interviewing Graham again. All she had was a hunch and an indefinite description. She had nothing substantial, and besides, Graham wasn’t going anywhere. In the end, it took her a week to clear up her investigative task list before she had the time to pay Graham a visit.