“They got these search warrants, Greg. I had to let them in.”
Jake was sitting at the kitchen table, his mouth open wide. A female forensic tech wearing latex gloves was swabbing the inside of his cheek.
“This will just take a sec, sweetie,” the tech said to Jake.
Kat held Jake’s hand.
“They brought him home from school.”
“I rode in a police car, Dad,” Jake said when he could speak.
“What?” Greg said.
“They’re collecting his DNA,” Kat said. “They’ll get ours, too.”
Greg turned. Carillo had entered the kitchen then led him down the hall. Along the way, Greg saw forensic people taking files, notebooks, and other items from Jenn’s office area. In his office, they were doing the same.
“All part of the investigation,” Carillo said.
“But you already have our phones, laptops, our fingerprints.”
“I assure you, it’s standard. We need you in the upstairs bathroom that you and Jenn use.”
Kozak was there with another forensic tech at the counter.
“Hi, Greg,” Kozak said. “Would you please identify Jennifer’s combs, brushes, and her toothbrush? We’re taking them for DNA analysis.”
The blood drained from Greg’s face.
“Did you find her? Is she dead?”
“No,” Kozak said. “This is part of the investigation. We’ll submit the DNA to all local, state, and national databases to help us locate her. Before we leave, we’ll collect yours, as well.”
Greg stared at Jenn’s toothbrush, her comb, her hairbrush. He glanced at her sink, her mirror.
Suddenly he saw her there, the image breaking his heart.
“Greg?” Kozak said.
He pointed. “Those are hers, obviously.”
“Thanks.” Kozak stepped from the bathroom with Greg, leaving the tech to collect the items. “The warrants allow us to process your house, for evidence. It’ll take a while.”
“Why? She’s missing from Ripplewood. She never made it home.”
“There could be something here that’s tied to it,” Carillo said. “You wouldn’t want us to overlook anything, would you?”
Everything was moving so fast; all of these people, these strangers, who deal with violence and death, invading their home, swabbing his son, and taking Jenn’s things.
“This means we’ll need you to leave the house, to find some place for the night,” Kozak said. “Our people will watch you collect some overnight things for you and Jake. They’ll make a record of it.”
Greg stared at them.
“We’ll need you to do this now, Greg,” Kozak said.
“I don’t like this,” Greg said. “Maybe I should be getting a lawyer.”
“Maybe,” Kozak said, “because we’d like you to submit to a polygraph exam as soon as possible.”
Thirty-Eight
Buffalo, New York
Lynsey Dowd slid five new twenty-dollar bills into an envelope, wrote, “Jenn” on it, then pushed back tears.
She put the envelope, the deposit bag, and other weekly records into the office security safe on the lower shelf behind her. After locking it, she turned and worked at her computer.
Most financial business at Crystallo View Optical was conducted digitally. Some matters involved cash. A few suppliers and older customers insisted on cash-only transactions. The eye doctors who owned the company accommodated them.
Lynsey made weekly trips to the bank. Her uncle was one of the owners and had asked her if she would split her duties as an optometric assistant and do the initial bookkeeping before passing things to the accountants. She didn’t mind because she had done it for his small practice before he partnered with the others.
Lynsey was typing and checking invoices when an icon for a Buffalo TV station popped up in the corner of her monitor, notifying her of a news story.
She clicked on it, bringing to life a video of police at Jenn’s house.
“Mystery deepens in the disappearance of Buffalo-area mom, Jennifer Griffin,” the reporter’s voice said. “New search warrants were executed late this afternoon at the Griffin home in Trailside Grove...”
The report amplified Lynsey’s grief. She whispered another prayer for Jenn. Everyone at Crystallo had volunteered to search, including Lynsey.
Why is this happening? She’s such a good person.
The money in the safe for Jenn was an example of her altruistic nature.
Several weeks ago, Jenn confidentially asked Lynsey to divert $100 a week from the direct digital deposit of her salary, and give it to her in cash.
“I want to start a secret fund to save for a winter vacation to the Caribbean for us. Greg works so hard. I want to surprise him and Jake. I can hide it in our household costs. He won’t know.”
Lynsey was glad that the doctors insisted that Jenn’s salary continue because everyone believed and hoped that she was coming home. It meant Lynsey would honor Jenn’s secret request and keep diverting and holding the cash for her.
Jenn’s face appeared on Lynsey’s monitor as the news story ended.
And I won’t tell anyone about it, Jenn.
Thirty-Nine
LaSalle in Buffalo, New York
“Yes, polygraphs are common in cases like this, Greg.”
Phone pressed to his ear, he sat in Kat’s kitchen, consulting with Susan Segretti, a Buffalo criminal defense attorney he’d contacted.
“There are considerations,” Segretti said. “I’ll outline them...”
It was evening, and listening, with his elbows on the table, Greg gripped his head with his free hand as if to stem his whirling fears. While state police were processing their home in Trailside Grove for evidence in Jenn’s disappearance, Greg and Jake had made the half-hour drive to Kat’s cozy two-story colonial in LaSalle, near the college. Kat and Vince got a couple of pizzas, but Jake had only taken a few bites because worry had taken his appetite.
“What if Mom comes home and we’re not there?” Jake said.
“Police will call us,” Greg said.
“But why’re they looking in our house? She’s not there.”
“They’re looking for the tiniest things that might help them,” Greg said.
“Even in my mouth?”