by Blake Pierce
Riley also found many fulsome references to Renee Griggs, whose work with the PTA had helped Wilson High achieve heights of academic excellence.
Jenn came around to Riley’s side of the table and sat down next to her. She looked at the information on the screen.
“This is crazy,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with this guy, and everything that’s right. Surely you can see that.”
Riley couldn’t very well argue.
But as she viewed more and more praise for the coach, that knot of suspicion in her chest grew tighter and tighter.
Too perfect, she kept thinking.
She scrolled through the news articles, tracing them back through the years.
Finally, she found one from twenty years ago, announcing that Wilson High had hired a new gym teacher and girls’ soccer coach named Judd Griggs.
Just then Riley noticed something odd.
She pointed to the screen and said to Jenn, “That’s the earliest reference to Judd Griggs I can find. There doesn’t seem to be any other mention of him in the whole Internet.”
“So?” Jenn asked.
“So—didn’t he have any kind of life before he came to Angier?”
“Maybe not,” Jenn said. “This seems to be where things really started for him.”
“No, that can’t be right,” Riley said. “A guy this remarkable couldn’t have come from out of nowhere. He must have impressed people much earlier, in college or even high school. But I see no sign of that here.”
Jenn let out a groan of disapproval.
“Riley, you’re reaching. You’re looking for evidence that’s just not there.”
Maybe, Riley thought.
But she doubted that more and more.
And she knew someone who might be able to help her sort this out.
She took out her cell phone and punched in Sam Flores’s extension at the BAU. When she got the crack lab technician on the line, he sounded glad to hear from her.
“Hey, Agent Paige—what’s up?”
Riley’s brain cranked away as she tried to put her thoughts together.
“Sam, I’m looking for information on a gym teacher and soccer coach here in Angier. His name is Judd Colton Griggs. I’ve run a search, and I can’t find anything about him before he came to work here twenty years ago.”
“Say no more,” Sam said. “I’ll see if I can access some official records.”
She heard Sam’s fingers clattering on his computer keys.
Then she heard him gasp a little.
“Uh, this is interesting,” he said. “I’ve found a record of his birth, forty-six years ago. There’s nothing to speak off after that. He seems to have been pretty much a complete nonentity until twenty-six years later.”
“What happened then?” Riley asked.
Sam fell silent for a moment, then said …
“He died.”
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Riley’s pulse was pounding at the words Sam Flores had just spoken.
Judd Griggs—dead!
What could that possibly mean?
“How did it happen?” Riley asked.
“I found his official death certificate. He drove off an embankment and crashed his car—a one-vehicle accident. His neck was broken, and he was presumed to have died instantly. The certificate doesn’t say anything more about the circumstances of his death.”
Jenn was staring at Riley wide-eyed, obviously wondering what was being said. Riley wished she could put the call on speakerphone so Jenn could join in.
But she couldn’t do that—not in a public place like this café.
In fact, she shouldn’t be holding this conversation here at all.
Nobody was nearby, and she didn’t think she was being overheard.
Even so, Judd Griggs was well-known in this town, and she could unleash a whole world of weird rumors if anybody heard her talking about his death.
Riley said, “Sam, hold on a minute. We’ve got to get somewhere where we can talk freely.”
Riley hastily scooped up her things, including her laptop. She put enough money on the table to pay for their coffees, plus more than enough for a tip.
“Come on,” she said to Jenn.
She got up from the table, and she and Jenn left the café and headed for their car.
“What’s going on?” Jenn asked.
Riley said, “It seems that Judd Griggs died quite a few years ago.”
Jenn gasped. “What? I don’t understand!”
“I don’t either. Maybe we both will in a minute.”
Riley and Jenn climbed into the front seat of the car. Riley opened her laptop again and put the call on speakerphone.
Riley said to Sam, “Agent Roston is listening too.”
“OK,” Sam said. “But I’ve got some catching up to do. Why are you so interested in this guy?”
Riley said, “There’s a Judd Griggs coaching at a local high school—and he’s definitely alive and well.”
“And you consider him a suspect?”
Riley hesitated, then said, “Yes.”
Jenn asked, “Where did it happen? Where did Judd Griggs die?”
“Way up in northeast Iowa,” Sam said. “A little town called Barrows, in McGrath County.”
Riley heard Sam clicking away at his keyboard again.
Soon he said, “I found an obituary in the local paper. It’s even less informative—no picture, not even a cause of death. Nobody seems to have cared very much that he’d died. It’s not like he made a big mark on the world. But he was born in Barrows and spent his whole life there.”
“Any other official documents?” Riley asked.
After a few seconds of typing, Sam said, “I’ve found a driver’s license with his photo on it. I’ll email it to you right now.”
In a few moments, Riley received the email on her laptop.
The image wasn’t very good, and it was hard to make out the man’s face very well. Nevertheless, the man could be the same man they’d talked to at the school just a little while ago, Riley thought. After all, a lot of years had passed since then.
She thought for a moment, “Is this really all you can find out about him? Prior to when he supposedly moved to Angier, I mean?”
Sam clattered away some more.
“Not a thing,” Sam said. “What do you want me to do now?”
Riley felt stymied and baffled. She looked at Jenn, and could tell that she felt the same way.
But as the seconds passed, a hunch began to take shape in Riley’s mind.
She remembered how they had already run a search of criminal records for one hundred miles around Angier during the last ten years.
They hadn’t turned up anything especially useful, but …
Finally Riley said to Sam, “I want you to run a search of registered sex offenders.”
“What kind of parameters?”
Riley thought for a second.
“Try within two or three years of when Judd Griggs died. Search right there in the same town—Barrows, Iowa.”
Riley heard Sam’s fingers at work again.
As he typed, he said, “Barrows is a really little town—just over a thousand people. Something like that really ought to stand out like a…”
Then he fell silent.
Finally he said, “Yeah, I’ve got somebody. A guy named Dillon Connor Crandall. He was charged with possession of child pornography, about a month after Judd Griggs died.”
Riley could barely keep pace with her own thoughts now. But she knew she was on the verge of finding out something vital.
She hastily ran a search on her own computer.
Dillon Connor Crandall … child pornography … Barrows, Iowa …
She added the year in question.
Sure enough, a newspaper article appeared on her screen, bearing the headline …
Local Gym Teacher Charged With Child Porn Possession
Even more startling than the headline was a photo of
the arrested man.
He, too, looked like a younger version of the local coach. But the resemblance was much stronger than it had been with the driver’s license photo of Judd Griggs.
Riley and Jenn stared at each other with amazement.
Then Riley said, “Sam, I’m sending you a link.”
She immediately emailed Sam a link to the article.
“Holy cow,” Sam said.
As Riley read the article, her amazement increased. It described a young man who had been born and bred in Barrows, and was well-liked and respected there. He’d been an Eagle Scout, an excellent student, and a high school football champion. After going away to college to get a teaching degree, he’d come back to Barrows to teach at the local high school and coach athletics there.
According to the article, the closely knit community was in a state of shock about the charge of possessing child pornography. Lifelong friends said they simply couldn’t believe it. The school principal, the mayor, and other high-ranking citizens expressed their disappointment and sorrow. His parents refused to make any kind of statement.
Jenn nodded and said to Riley, “This is it. This is our guy.”
Maybe so, Riley thought.
But she didn’t dare let herself feel sure of it yet.
She said, “Sam, can you find any court records of that case?”
Sam typed, then said, “It looks like he pleaded no contest to the possession charge. He wasn’t charged with any kind of assault. There’s no mandatory minimum sentence for possessing child pornography in and of itself. So he didn’t do any prison time. But he did have to register as a sex offender. And he got fired from that school.”
Riley thought hard and fast.
She said to Sam, “What can you find about Crandall after this happened—his sentencing and firing?”
Sam searched for a little longer this time.
“Not a thing,” he said. “It’s as if he disappeared off the face of the earth.”
Riley felt her face flush with excitement.
But she knew that they still had important dots to connect before they could take any action.
Jenn was staring at Riley’s laptop.
“So what you’re saying is … when Judd Griggs died in a car wreck, the disgraced Dillon Connor Crandall assumed his identity.”
Riley nodded excitedly.
“And the man who then called himself Judd Griggs eventually moved to Angier to start a new life.”
“Sure looks like he did,” Sam replied.
Jenn asked, “Do you think we can nail him with this?”
“Not with this, yet,” Riley said. “We have nothing to actually connect him with the murders. So far we can’t even connect him with all three victims.”
“Katy Philbin played soccer,” Jenn said. “Camryn Mays also went to Wilson High, so it’s likely that she at least knew the coach.” She hesitated and then added, “But we haven’t found any possible connection with Holly Struthers.”
Sam Flores pitched in, “Maybe I can help you with that.”
“Take a look at the school records for Holly Struthers. We know she went to Lincoln High. Was she ever on the soccer team?”
A few moments later, Sam said, “She’s not listed on any sports team at all. Not even sports-related clubs.”
“Did she ever go to Wilson High? Even for just a short time?”
After another wait, Sam told them, “There’s no sign at all of her at Wilson. Not even with any kind of organization. Sorry.”
“Thanks anyhow, Sam. You’ve been a great help. You’ve given us a whole lot more than we had to work with before.”
Riley ended the phone call. She and Jenn stared at each other for a moment.
“What do we do now?” Jenn asked.
Riley said, “We’ve got to convince Chief Sinard that Judd Griggs is our killer.”
Jenn shook her head and said, “You’re going to tell him that one of Angier’s most beloved citizens is a rapist and murderer? That’s going to be a hard sell, Riley.”
Riley suppressed a discouraged sigh.
Jenn was right.
It was definitely going to be a hard sell.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Sitting in Chief Sinard’s office just a little while later, Riley tried to be patient. What could happen next was up to Sinard.
She and Jenn had showed him the information they’d put together. By that time, Sam had sent them still more evidence, including a stolen Social Security number, forged teaching credentials, and hard proof that the two men had been cousins.
Sinard stared at the documents on Riley’s open laptop, pale with shock.
“This is impossible,” he kept saying over and over. “I don’t believe it.”
Jenn looked at Riley doubtfully, as if to say …
“We’re never going to convince him.”
But Riley sensed that Sinard was wavering inside.
I’ve just got to get through to him, she thought.
After all, they had no time to lose. The murders were happening closer together now.
They couldn’t allow another one.
Riley pointed to the documents on the screen and said, “Chief Sinard, it’s all here in black and white. The man you know as Judd Griggs used to be Dillon Crandall, a registered sex offender in Barrows, Iowa. I don’t see how you can come to any other conclusion.”
Chief Sinard shuddered a little.
He said, “OK, some twenty years ago, it looks like Griggs got in trouble for possessing child pornography. It wasn’t a violent offense, and he didn’t even have to do time with it. But he moved on under an assumed name and made a new life here. What does that have to do with the life he’s lived ever since? Doesn’t he have a right to put his past behind him?”
Sinard got up from his desk and started to pace.
He said, “And what about Holly Struthers? She didn’t even go to the same school as the other girls. We have no reason to think Griggs even knew her.”
Riley didn’t reply. That was the flaw that nagged at her. But she still felt sure it would make sense once they had all the facts. And if they couldn’t find the connection with all three girls, they would just have to find a more direct link to the murders.
Riley stepped in front of him and held his gaze carefully.
“Chief Sinard, be honest with yourself. This man has been in your midst all this time, teaching with forged credentials, keeping this guilty secret. Do you really think it doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to Katy and Holly and Camryn? Coach Griggs is the first viable suspect we’ve come across. And it sure looks to me like he’s guilty as hell.”
Sinard broke eye contact with her and shuddered.
“My God,” he said.
He fell silent for a few moments.
Then he said, “What do you think we should do?”
Riley looked at her watch. It was still early in the school day. Judd Griggs was still at school, and it was likely that his wife was as well.
She asked Sinard, “How long would it take to get a warrant to search Griggs’s house? We need to look specifically for evidence of the murders.”
“What?” Chief Sinard said with a gasp.
“Can we get one by this afternoon?” Riley asked. “Is there a judge available?”
Sinard stared at her with disbelief.
“Agent Paige, this is crazy. What if we’re wrong? You have no idea how liked and respected Judd Griggs is in Angier. I can’t even imagine what kind of hell there will be to pay if—”
Riley interrupted him sternly.
“I asked a question, Chief Sinard.”
Sinard nodded slowly.
“I could write out an affidavit, fax it to Judge Finn along with all this other evidence. He’s usually available this time of day. I can talk him through it if he has doubts—and I’m pretty sure he will.”
“Then you’d better get started,” Riley said. “My partner and I will leave you to it.”
Riley and Jenn left the police station. It was a pleasant day, so they sat down on a bench on the lawn.
“The chief is scared,” Jenn said.
Riley nodded.
“He’s got good reason to be. One way or the other, things are going to get very ugly very soon in this town.”
They sat in silence for a moment. There was a pleasant breeze, and the shade was nice. Riley wished she was in the state of mind to enjoy it.
Finally Jenn said, “Riley, I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Riley looked at her. For a moment, she didn’t understand what Jenn meant.
Jenn said, “After we talked to the coach, I mean. I refused to believe he could possibly be guilty. I’d never have investigated him if I’d had my way.”
Riley was surprised.
“Jenn, of course you doubted me,” she said with a slight laugh. “I hit you with a half-assed and unbelievable theory, and I had no evidence at all for it. It’s your job to question judgments like that. Bill would have done the same thing.”
Jenn shook her head.
“Yeah, but … Riley, how do you do it? It’s like you pulled the coach’s guilt out of thin air. Your intuitions are just uncanny. I can’t imagine being able to do what you do.”
Riley felt warmer inside. She’d never known Jenn to show such humility and respect toward her.
In a gentle, kindly voice, she said, “Jenn, give yourself time. I didn’t develop these skills overnight. When I look at you, I see myself at your age. But …”
Riley paused for a moment.
“I’m not sure I had your promise. I think you’re the most amazing new agent I’ve worked with except …”
Her voice trailed off.
Jenn smiled and finished her thought.
“Except for Lucy Vargas.”
Riley felt a lump of emotion in her throat. She nodded silently.
Jenn took in a long, slow breath.
Then she said, “Well, I just want you to know it’s an honor to work with you. I hope I can live up to your expectations. And another thing …”
Jenn fell silent, then said, “I’m not going to push you about the Shane Hatcher thing anymore. You had your reasons for whatever kind of relationship you had—or have. I respect that. I understand that. I’ve had my own questionable contacts and advisors.”
