While the medical examiner—who came herself and didn’t just send the investigator on call—examines the body and Roderick calls his sheriff to let him know what’s going on, I choose a picture of Taylor and write the details for the Amber Alert, and then search the rest of the residence.
Wishing Anna was here to help me, I wonder how her search is going and begin missing her terribly—missing far more the person she had been up until a few weeks ago than anything else.
There aren’t many rooms—a small den, Magdalene’s bathroom, an office/workout room, a laundry room, and Keith and Christopher’s master suite.
Everything everywhere is neat and tidy, clean, immaculate.
Many of the furnishings appear to be authentic antiques, but I wouldn’t know if they weren’t—unless it was painfully obvious.
There is no sign of Taylor—or that she was here at any point tonight—and I don’t find any additional hidden rooms or secret passageways.
But I do find a few things I have questions about—and a couple of them are both suspicious and alarming.
In the laundry room, which is on the west side of the house, I find a Frigidaire 8.7-cubic-foot manual-defrost chest freezer, which itself is suspicious given the circumstances of Magdalene’s reappearance, but the fact that it is empty, its removable basket missing, and it has recently been cleaned with bleach, is unnerving.
I make a note to get FDLE to process it.
Curious, if not suspicious, is the fact that there are both cat and dog bowls, a couple of kennels, and even a PetSafe wall-entry pet door of about 12 by 18 inches, and yet I have seen no evidence of or heard anyone mention pets of any kind while we’ve been here this week.
But by far the most red-flag-raising item I encounter is the sheer number of sleep aid medications. There are no less than four over-the-counter sleep aids—two for adults, two for children and sensitive adults—between Keith and Christopher’s bathroom and Magdalene’s. It’s excessive by any standard, but given that mixed in with it are bottles of Benadryl, melatonin, and prescription sleeping pills, it is staggering.
After making notes about and taking pictures of these items of interest, I walk back toward Magdalene’s bedroom.
Her body has been removed and is on its way to the morgue. Roderick and the ME are standing outside Magdalene’s door talking.
“John Jordan, this is Dr. Jennifer Gottschall.”
She’s a tall, thin woman in her late forties with black hair and blue eyes.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your daughter,” she says.
“Thank you.”
“Rod told me what you said about the body having been frozen,” she says. “I think you’re right. I’m actually going to perform the autopsy tonight—as soon as I get back. We’re going to rush everything—all the labs and toxicology—and see if what we find can help you find your daughter.”
“Thank you very much,” I say. “I sure appreciate that.”
Roderick’s radio sounds and the deputy on the front door tells them there are people here to see me.
He looks at me.
I shrug.
“We’re on our way,” he says into the radio, then to Dr. Gottschall, “We’ll walk you out.”
A few minutes later, I step through the front door to see Merrill, Dad, Jake, Verna, and Reggie, and tears sting my eyes.
After quick hugs, Merrill says, “We’re here to help. Tell us what we can do.”
“Roderick Brandt, this is my dad Jack Jordan and his wife Verna, my brother Jake, my best friend Merrill Monroe, and the sheriff of Gulf County, Reggie Summers. They’ve got a lot of experience and training.”
“Nice to meet y’all,” Roderick says. “And we appreciate your willingness to help. We can use it.”
He begins to assign them various tasks and searching details but before he finishes, his radio sounds again.
It’s one of the deputies searching the woods behind the house with Anna.
At first we can’t understand what he’s saying.
“Repeat that please,” Roderick says.
“It’s Mrs. Jordan. She collapsed and is unconscious.”