Gone After the Wind

Chapter 37: Debunked

TO MAKE SURE nothing is left unchecked, the duo decided to start looking for clues inside the lower part of the house. Through the assistance of the CSI personnel, they successfully retraced the victim’s steps and unearthed the activities that had been made inside the bungalow for the last several days.

The garage, the lawn and the kitchen revealed Candy was barely at home prior to the attack. Souvenirs decorated the dashboard and driver’s seat of the car. Her emergency bag had been opened and clothes scattered around it. She’d been out of the city and according to her ticket and some hotel book-ins, she hadn’t been home for three days. Peculiarly, her suitcase and work sheets were among the items they found inside the car.

CSI had already processed it and there were only two prints. One belonged to the victim and the other belonged to an unknown man. Possibly Candy’s companion when she took that trip. The prints of the unknown man was all over the driver’s and shotgun seat. Areas where the prints were more defined suggested the person who owned it held a rather intimate, personal relationship with the victim.

“It’s basically a love nest,” said the CSI personnel, Madera, as she poked the dashboard with a pen. “See those stains? They’re fluids. Semen, to be exact. It’s interesting the victim didn’t wipe any of them or bother tidying up. Thanks to that, we’re left with dozens of evidence that will either identify her attacker or not. We’ve already sent them to the lab for DNA test and you’ll get the results in no time.”

“That’s all you’ve got?” Cara asked, hoping the car would have hidden more.

The black-haired crime scene investigator sighed, shaking her head. “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. Not until we had the results, I can’t entertain you with more exciting findings.”

“You said those will either identify her attacker or not. Why is that?” Eric asked.

“Well, apart from the semen we collected, we also found something in the trunk.” Madera moved to the tail of the car and clicked something beneath the lid. It popped open and Madera immediately focused her flashlight on the black interior liner. Droplets of what looked like a white liquid glinted through the light. Each were so small Cara and Eric had to squint and crouch over their stinging backs to make a better sight of it. “We haven’t yet identified what kind of substance that was but I’m confident it belongs to a group of organic chemicals. None of the droplets reacted when I tested it. Pretty much like the semen, you’ll have the reports on your desk today or tomorrow. Determining its exact components will help us trace if these come from their trip or from the perp. This is the only place I found these. I searched the victim’s bathroom, storage room and make-up kits but none matched the elements of these little guys.”

“Which means the victim either brought these or someone did,” Cara concluded.

Madera nodded. “That’s right. I’ll try to speed up the testing but if the lab hasn’t seen these before, it might get a little bit longer to provide the name.”

Cara and Eric nodded, both jotting down on their notepads. One more sweeping of facts in the garage and both of them were on the move to proceed to the kitchen. But peculiarities that deserved maximum attention were absent in the luxurious, stale kitchen.

The kitchenware had not been touched. The food stored had already spoiled. And everything was tightly cleaned.

When nothing, apart from the weird arrangement of the dining room and the dull color of the interior lining, satisfied their interest anymore, the group went deeper into the house, slipping into the row of guest room and the spacious living room around the corner of the grand stair case.

But akin to the state of the kitchen, there was no disturbance in the each of the guest room that could show the perp’s point of the entry. By having a clear snapshot of the house before and after the attack, Cara aimed to answer the question whether or not the perp broke into the house prior to the victim’s departure to business meeting or during the days the house stayed empty. It’s inconclusive to base her conclusion to the assumption that he followed her all the way from work.

The nature of the attack already printed a different picture.

Frustration and annoyance began to swell up in Cara’s stomach as they skimmed through almost half of the house and no new evidence was added in their list. The ticking clock rang louder in her ears. The more they approach the second floor, the more the dread in her stomach knotted.

“Detectives!” An officer in uniform stopped their tracks as they climbed to the grand staircase. Turning their heels, the officer handed a small iPad. “You need to see this.”

They gathered around the officer who swiftly swiped the screen. A picture of what looked like an installation of a water pipe beneath the sink glared at them.

“What are we looking at?” Eric asked.

“I called the plumbing company like you asked. They said Candy Filimon did visit their shop but she never returned nor called to purchase their services. That’s funny because when I checked the plumbing, I found these,” he explained as he scoured through the snapshots of the toilet and the kitchen.

“Looks like they’ve been replaced,” Madera commented.

“Exactly. And the work is clean and meticulous. I doubt that this has been done by someone who’s inexperienced.”

“Suggesting someone took a voluntary step to do that without the company’s knowledge. That level of risk is motivated by something other than money. Call the company again. Ask them to launch a thorough backtrack of the employees’ recent activities. Who took a leave or who’s been acting strange lately. It’s impossible for him to not leave a trace,” Cara advised, turning to Madera. “Did we recover the cellphone of the victim?”

“We’re still looking. She didn’t have it when we did our first canvass.”

Cara nodded and fixated her attention to the officer. “If you’re done with the company, be sure to check the victim’s service provider. You still have the flyer with you? The victim’s number is there. They’ll know once you provide that.”

“Copy that,” the officer responded with a tiny salute, scurrying away excitedly.

“You go proceed with the upper floor. I need to look at something.”

She couldn’t wait to hear the reply of any the two of them. Shaking with anticipation, she wheeled around, taking leaps across the living room and onto the front door. That report burst every windows, every door and every lids of ideas she’s been trying so hard to open. Fresh insights and uninvited ideas oozed out like a smoke trapped in a burning house, impossible to stop and inevitable to feel.

But it didn’t trigger a series of unexplored notions alone. Shelving that information, she was able to narrow down and picked up the most valuable and accurate theories among the bunch of ones that spiraled down in her mind.

If the officer came back with the confirmation that someone indeed provided a discreet and probably free service to Candy, the whole course of the investigation will be directed to one path only: everything about the hard-driven facts of that employee and the connection he/she arguably holds towards the assault and the recent serial killings.

If, on the other hand, the company had knowledge of the visit and the service was recorded, they only have not one lead to follow but two. The employee is either the culprit or he’s the instrument the real killer used to be near the victim.

That leaves Cara with one mystery: How did the victim’s contact with one plumber leads to her unfortunate kidnapping?

Tracing back the steps they have taken earlier, Cara found herself asking a favor to the group of crime technicians again. She requested to review any footage that will back up her theory. Unfortunately, the victim thought the front door was the only best place to station a security camera. Nothing had been installed to keep an eye on the garage, the driveway or even the backdoor.

It was as if Candy Filimon is afraid to catch her own secrets, her own shadows. And those are much important to cherish than the security of her welfare.

Biting her lower lip, Cara kept a steady eye on the CCTV footage as the camera continuously panned to one direction, reviewing each frame and scribbling the time stamps that exhibits strange activities in the area. The crime scene technicians had reviewed it. While they were unable to report anything fruitful, Cara had to see it for herself.

Looking something from a different perspective is beneficial, after all.

Fifteen minutes had passed and Cara’s nearing to the last tape. Heat prickled her eyes and her back felt as though it would snap in half. Scrunching her eyes, she adjusted her vision and controlled her focus. It’s the week before Candy’s disappearance.

Like the usual timetable, Candy drives out of the driveway at seven o’clock and not until five p.m would she appear again. For the next three days, she was alone. Going back and forth at the house like a robot programmed to do one task.

Since it’s the only camera around the house, it’s hard to tell Candy wasn’t doing any extracurricular activities. The block was hardly visible. If she traveled by feet, she would be seen easily. If it’s by car, the frame of the camera isn’t wide enough to capture such movement.

At Thursday, she wasn’t dressed for work when she appeared at the frame. Nailing a casual red dress, she tiptoed at the front lawn, one hand clutched at her purse and one raising a phone to her ear. Didn’t take long before she was stopped by a black Sedan. The car door opened and a man in a suit welcomed Candy with swift peck on her lips and a tap to her butt. Some verbal exchange happened before she got in and the car sped away.

“Hey, do we have an ID of this man?” Cara asked, pausing the footage.

The red-headed crime scene technician squinted her eyes and nodded. “Uh, yeah, we do. That’s her current boyfriend and her boss.

“Do you have his name and address? Scribble it for me, please.”

“Sure.”

As she took a piece of paper from the notepad, Cara resumed playing. At exact 10 p.m., the black Sedan appeared again. This time, Candy didn’t return to the house alone. Snaking an arm around her, the man accompanied her inside. It doesn’t take a hard guess to know what they did after.

Cut to the next two days and Candy’s schedule were pretty much packed. A delivery company dropped by for two consecutive times, dropping packages that looked to be utilities for the incoming business trip Candy had been planning. It’s apparent that she’s extremely looking forward to that expedition. Her lover helped a lot in her preparation. Attending to groceries, dry-cleaning garments and securing the

If Cara didn’t see the next footage, she would’ve been touched at how endearing the couple is.

On the earliest hours of the day before they trip, a mini blue van parked at the curb that was inside the camera’s view. A man in a white uniform stepped out, carrying a small toolbox and a brown pad. The grainy texture of the film didn’t do the favor of revealing the overall appearance of the man. But his lean body, posture and black curly hair suggested he’s no more than thirty.

She squinted her eyes when the familiarity of the logo embedded on his shirt rocked her memory. Her heart pounded. It’s him; the plumber who broke the company’s rules over a single service. And Candy’s potential second lover.

He approached the house with compose, calm demeanor, as if he’s been here before. There’s no uncertainty in his face. No discomfort that he’s entering a stranger’s house.

Candy welcomed him on the front door, an odd and displaced act that demonstrates the value he holds over her. Two hours later, the plumber came into view once more. Walking behind her was Candy, in a casual outfit and a small bag on her shoulder.

They hopped on the van and disappeared for an entire three hours. It was afternoon when they came back but they walked towards the house. The van was nowhere in sight. It was probably parked somewhere else. A spot that miraculously evaded the focus of the camera.

That frustrated Cara even more. She added speed to footage, waiting and hunting to get glimpse of the van. But even after the plumber left on the wee hours of the next day, it never appeared again.

Just like she suspected, there are dozens of openings and opportunity for the killer to enter the house without worrying the problem of being seen. The rendezvous between Candy and that plumber had been done so discreetly, it disarmed their hope of finding it useful.

The van was the last unfamiliar vehicle to reach contact with the house. The black Sedan was missing in action for the whole night. What Candy used to pull out of the curb the next morning for the trip was her own car and even that showed nothing suspicious.

Days following Candy’s departure, the house sit lone and still. Barely there was any activity visible around. Cars passed every now and then. Residents ran and walked the street doing the most menial things but no one elicited the behavior of the perp.

Sighing, Cara moved the cursor to finally exit the page and do her eyes the favor of relieving the strain of too much screen exposure. Just as her eyes budged, she caught the tiniest movement in the farthest corner of the camera.

She pressed the heels of her palm against her eyes and rubbed them, making sure she wasn’t getting fooled by the fatigue and the sheer anticipation to finally find a clue in it. She replayed the video with full attention and sure enough, she wasn’t hallucinating!

It was so faint and small that it could be mistaken as a glitch or a malfunction.

The movement could be anything. A bird that passed by. A bunch of leaves that fell off from the nearby tree. Or a cat that was roaming near the beds of plants and accidentally slips into the area.

As Cara dropped the speed of the video, it became apparent none of those external elements were responsible for the activity.

Her eyes squinted, stared at it for so long until something clicked. She looked for the surroundings and when the leaves of the trees swayed with the wind, her assumption was confirmed.

It was the hem of a curtain flapping against the wind that burst into the lawn.

That wasn’t there before. She could skim the videos right from the beginning and compare each frame side by side but she’s certain this is the first time that curtain pronounced its existence.

Looking at the outline of the house, that window was located near the front door. It was rarely open, as could be seen from the previous videos and as from what the technicians had reported.

If Candy and her lover was on the business trip, how could that one secured window be opened in the middle of the day? Was it a cat who was trapped inside and let itself out? Or a broken hinge that sent the window flying open?

Whatever the cause may be, there’s only one way to find out.

Exiting the page and reminding the technicians to keep looking at the surveillance videos, she stormed out of the garage and walked into driveway, looking around the street.

Just then, her phone rang and Eric’s anxious voice blasted her ears.

“Where are you? We’re nearly finished here.”

“I’m outside. I just need to look at something. I’ll be right with you. Gimme ten minutes.”

“Make that a five. Faucalt and his darling are planning to wrap it all up. They’re scheming something, I can feel it.”

“Try to stall them as long as you can,” Cara instructed, looking sideways as she crossed the street. “I won’t be long.”

“Just be hurry.”

Cara pocketed the phone and strode into the lawn of the house facing Candy’s. Unlike the victim, the owner of the green painted townhouse had been smart enough to not neglect the area with security. Small, noticeable cameras dotted the entry points and all sides of the house, covering almost everything in sight.

One in particular is the front face of Candy’s house.

Once she climbed onto the porch, Cara buzzed the door. The earsplitting sound of the doorbell reverberated inside and as Cara waited, she flitted her eyes back to the house, measuring the distance and clarity of its location to the cameras.

She silently prayed she won’t hit a block this time.

“Just a minute!” a female voice responded behind the door. Something clicked and two seconds later, it creaked open and a young brunette woman greeted Cara skeptically.

“Yes?”

“Hi, my name’s Cara. I’m a detective. Sorry to bother you at this hour but I just want to know if any of your cameras work?”

“You’re a cop? You’re the first to come here.” Relief swept away the confusion on her face. She pushed the door backward and crossed her arms, leaning against the frame. “You’re investigating the murder of Candy?”

Although none of those should concern them, Cara politely shook her head. “Kidnapping, ma’am. And it will be a big help if you allow us to review your cameras.”

“Not a problem. But you need to talk to my husband about that. I don’t know how to operate those things. Wait, let me call him.” She backed away. “James! There’s a cop in here! They need your help!”

The woman smiled. “He’ll come down in any second.”

Cara nodded. “Thank you.”

A glance at the house and Cara already knew what the woman will say next. “What happened, by the way? How was Candy kidnapped? Was it one of her lovers? I always believe she leads a troublesome life. Always bringing in new men everyday. That had to place her in some danger.”

Cara could barely register her questions when a balding man with eyeglasses ambled behind her.

“What’s up, officer?”

“She’s a detective and she’s investigating the kidnapping of our neighbor. Candy. Remember her?”

“Yeah. Seen her a few times. What about it?”

Cara opened her mouth to answer but his wife seemed to have a knack at speaking for people. Fighting the urge to holler at her, she allowed her to go on.

“She’s asking for the tapes of our cameras. You keep track of it everyday, right?”

The man’s face lit up. “You’re lucky I haven’t deleted them yet. I was planning to clean up the storage today.”

“Can I see it?”

“You’re more than welcome. Come on inside.”

They let her in and as Cara followed the couple, she hoped her remaining five minutes would not all go to waste.