 They were in the car driving back to their office when Griff’s phone rang. He put it on speaker. “We got lucky big time,” Jim said. “The park where Clint’s phone was dumped was a city park a block from a police station. Not only was the phone found in a trash can along with clothes, jeans, and a T-shirt, but security cameras caught what happened. They sent us footage and pictures of the clothes. The jeans had been soaked in urine, which was dry when they found it. We should have analysis by tomorrow.” “Can you e-mail the pictures?” Candice asked. “Already got them,” Griff said. He didn’t have to spend a lot of time looking at the pictures. “Those are the clothes Clint was wearing when I left yesterday morning.” Closing his eyes for a few beats, Griff bit down on his lip. He wanted to say he’d bought that shirt for Clint, but it was impossible to put that additional detail into words. “We also found out Dylan Hatchet had a second part-time job for a landscaper. About ten days ago, Hatchet reported the company van he was driving that day was stolen. Get this: the plates were recovered three days ago… in Toledo, Ohio,” Jim said. “So,” Candice said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “Hatchet has a stolen van he could have painted by now and likely stolen plates that could be from any state between here and Minnesota.” “Griff, despite your best efforts to screw up evidence in Clint’s car when you searched it, there were trace amounts of blood found inside, soaked into the seat fabric. Matches the blood we found in your house,” Jim said. “Thanks. We’ll be upstairs in a few minutes,” Griff said and ended the call. “There’s something I’ve been wondering, and I think this answers that question. How the hell did this guy get Clint out of the house without anyone seeing anything? I know it was the middle of the day, but every time I’ve been on your street, people are around. While you were gone I interviewed a few of your neighbors. The blind lady who lives in the house kitty-corner across the street from you heard a different vehicle’s engine, which sort of amazes me. She thought the car might have pulled into your drive or the house next to you.” “I already know no one was home in the house just east of me. What about the house on the other side? They have two little kids and are outside with them a lot,” Griff said. “They were gone for the day—went to the zoo,” Candice said. “The man across from you works nights and he was asleep. The family with the landscaping business had their crews out from dawn and no one came home until it was getting dark. It seems like the timing of this was thought out, and we know he was watching your house at various times.” She stopped talking for the few minutes it took her to park the car. “Clint’s a big guy. Here’s my theory. Hatchet moves Clint’s car and pulls his stolen van up to your side door. Really, would you notice if Clint’s car wasn’t exactly in the same spot, moved a foot or so?” Griff shook his head. “No. And the part of the driveway closest to the side door is between our house and the neighbor’s. It would be possible to get something or someone out of the house and into the van without being seen.” Griff stopped and grabbed Candice’s arm. “All the urine. Clint had a seizure.” “Is that something he does?” “No, it’s not. What’s the statistic? More than 50 percent of people put in a choke hold and rendered unconscious have a seizure while waking up.” The whole thought made Griff sick. Candice grabbed her wrist and mimicked the act of using a choke hold. “Hatchet chokes Clint out, and by some miracle doesn’t kill him since I’m sure he never had training. That gives him a minute or less to fight off your dog, restrain Clint, and get him out of the house and into a van.” “So what else did he use, stolen Isoflurane? How? And where did he take Clint?”       Comments are closed.
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