“Not only do I think that’s it,” he said, “but I think it’s taken from inside this house here.” He brought up a Google map and quickly pointed, placing himself right on the street.
She nodded. “Give me that address, and I’ll go check it out.”
“It’s in Richmond,” Aaron said.
“Even better. I can get there in twenty minutes and check this out.” And, with that, she grabbed the address and walked away. She called back as she left, “Let me know if you get anything on that chat room.”
“Will do,” he said, and she headed out.
She didn’t bother telling Rodney or Owen because there wasn’t anything specific to tell them. They were working on the other murder.
For Jason, they were still waiting on the drug tests.
The traffic was heavy at this time of day—rush-hour traffic on a Monday evening no less—and, by the time she made it to the address, she was swearing at the forty-five-minute trip. She quickly drove around the block and back and then checked out who else was living on this street. None of the names rang a bell, and none of them had popped up in her criminal database.
Until she got to the search of the house at the far end. Some names of owners for houses in the middle of the block didn’t appear yet either. She quickly brought up the corner house on her tablet and then phoned Rodney from her car.
“I’m in the middle of the block on the road that we saw on that video,” she said. “The picture we found inside Ken’s living room? Well, Aaron thinks the photo was taken from inside the house on the corner—just like we thought with the road signs we found. A porch goes around the front side of the house. So that road sign is just barely visible through the front window. The online record states Ken Roscoe is the owner—a pedophile, convicted, served his time, released to a halfway house, now lives here. No issues since his release. So that’s Ken’s property. It’s all dark right now, which we would expect with a dead guy as the owner.”
“Well, he should have popped immediately with that address. I’ll get Forensics out there pronto.”
“Good. Now I’ve run across another registered perv. This Nico guy, also living in this same block, he did show up in my search, but we hadn’t had any problems with him either, and it’s his family residence, so it’s not like he’s just out of the halfway house.”
“So, as long as he stayed low and out of trouble, he just was a name.”
“Exactly. The database tells us he lives here, but it doesn’t tell us anything else. So… I’m wondering if that house on the corner was another playhouse for Nico to share with Ken? Or is it possible for two pervs to live on this same street and operate out of the same child porn ring, sharing children?”
“Anything’s possible. Any sign of life around Nico’s place?”
“Lights are on,” she said. “It’s early evening on a Monday. A vehicle is parked in the back alley, but it just appears to be one of the neighbors.”
“Well, go on up and ask. See if anybody is there,” Rodney said. “You should have called me though. I would have come with you. And we need to call Richmond RCMP. You’re in their turf,” he warned.
“I would have if the tech guys had found anything constructive on the two players trying to buy slash sell the little girl online,” she said, “but they didn’t—not yet anyway—except that these two guys had been in this child ring online for at least four to five years.”
“They got access while they were in prison?”
“Aaron in IT doesn’t seem to think that’s out of reason.”
“That’s even sicker than normal,” Rodney said. “We send them to prison as a punishment, not to create support groups to help each other hurt kids.”
“Exactly. Call Richmond RCMP for me, will you? I’ll take a walk and see what I see.” She pocketed her phone, hopped out of her vehicle, and walked through the gate and up to the front door. She rang the doorbell and waited. There was a big long echo, a hollow emptiness on the inside. Yet it made no sense if he were living here. It was obvious that he could have gone somewhere for the afternoon, but it didn’t have that kind of feeling. It had an unlived-in feeling.
She walked the porch and peered in through the big windows on the ground to catch a glimpse. But it was all full of furniture, old-money kind of furniture. She frowned again, walked back to the front door, and rang the doorbell again, then quickly sent Rodney a text, saying she’d gotten no answer.
“Not surprising,” Rodney said, when he called her instead of texting. “According to the record, there’s been no calls to that address. At least not in the last couple years.”
“I wonder if this guy went to jail,” she asked.
“Seven years ago,” Rodney said. “He’d been quiet before then.Nico Dunfer. He’s a professor, a botany professor. Richmond RCMP are on their way to your location.”
“Interesting. Okay, I’ll keep it up.” She popped her phone back into her pocket, and, just as she was about to come down the front steps, she heard a sound. She moved around the side of the house, and, sure enough, somebody was sneaking out a window. Annoyed, she held up her badge and called out, “Police. Stop!”
Instead he shot her a terrified look and bolted. He jumped over the fence, even though she came racing behind and jumped over after him. But she was just that split second behind. He had dumped the garbage can, so she landed on it and rolled to the ground. She was on her feet in seconds, racing down the same direction, but he hopped into the vehicle that she’d seen parked up ahead and took off.
Good thing she had taken a photo of the license plate. She swore and called Rodney back. “Somebody escaped out the rear window,” she said. She quickly gave him the license plate number.
“I’m on it,” he said. “Hold up.” And then he swore. “Well, damn, that’s registered to another convicted pedophile.”