Chapter 4 - THE MAN EVERYONE HATEDBy the time Detective Sloan returned to Bellweather, public opinion had already begun reversing.
The same television stations that had spent two days calling Jason an irresponsible father now used different words.
MISSING FATHER MAY HAVE RESCUED CHILD BEFORE CRASH.
NEW VIDEO CHANGES ABANDONMENT CASE.
SEARCH EXPANDS FOR LOCAL DAD AND MISSING BOY.
Rebecca hated how quickly the language changed.
A man could become a monster by breakfast and a hero before dinner, all without anyone actually knowing whether he was alive.
Emily knew only one thing.
They still hadn’t brought her father home.
She had been released from the hospital into the temporary care of Jason’s older sister, Claire.
Claire arrived from Columbus almost immediately after police contacted her.
The moment Emily saw her aunt, she ran across the hospital room barefoot and wrapped both arms around her.
“Aunt Claire!”
Claire held her so tightly Emily squeaked.
Then Claire buried her face in the child’s hair.
“I’m here.”
“Daddy’s missing.”
“I know.”
“People said he left me.”
Claire’s expression hardened.
“People say stupid things when they don’t know what happened.”
Emily pulled back.
“He saved a boy.”
Claire nodded.
“We think he did.”
“I told them.”
Those three words nearly destroyed her.
Claire remembered Jason at nineteen, holding their dying grandfather’s hand because everyone else was too frightened to stay in the hospital room.
She remembered Jason at twenty-seven giving a stranded stranger his last twenty dollars.
She remembered him sleeping in a chair beside Rachel during chemotherapy.
And she remembered the funeral, when seven-year-old Emily had been only four and Jason had stood beside his wife’s grave with one hand gripping their daughter’s.
He had promised Rachel he would take care of her.
Jason had lived every day since as if breaking that promise would be a sin.
Claire did not believe he had voluntarily abandoned Emily.
Not for one second.
But belief was not proof.
Now the dashcam had given them proof.
The search command center expanded dramatically.
Fire departments from three neighboring towns joined.
State troopers deployed drones.
Volunteers arrived with ATVs.
Search dogs worked both sides of the flooded corridor.
The temperature was forecast to drop below freezing overnight.
That changed everything.
Jason had no proper coat.
Caleb had lost his jacket.
Both were injured.
The search became a race.
At noon, Rebecca met rescue captain Nate Collins beside a county map spread across the hood of his SUV.
“The water-treatment station is here,” she said.
“And the handprint says they were there recently.”
“Lab estimates less than eighteen hours.”
Nate pointed north.
“Most direct route to civilization is this ridge.”
“What’s up there?”
“Old logging road. Two hunting cabins. One has been abandoned twenty years.”
“And the other?”
“Owned by a guy in Kentucky. He uses it maybe twice a year.”
Rebecca looked at the weather.
“Search both.”
Meanwhile, another detail emerged.
Jason’s last phone transmission had not actually ended at 9:06.
A forensic technician recovered a brief signal at 9:14.
Seven seconds.
The phone attempted to call 911.
Then disconnected.
Location uncertainty was enormous, but the signal originated somewhere downstream.
Rebecca requested phone-company engineers model the likely area.
An hour later they gave her a rough ellipse covering almost two square miles of forest.
Not much.
But better than nothing.
At Claire’s house, Emily watched the search helicopter on television.
A reporter stood outside Jason’s home.
Behind her, neighbors had placed flowers along the porch.
Claire nearly laughed at the hypocrisy.
Two days earlier some of those same neighbors had been standing on that sidewalk criticizing Jason.
Now handwritten signs appeared.
COME HOME, JASON.
WE BELIEVE YOU.
Emily stared at the screen.
“Why do they believe him now?”
Claire sat beside her.
“Because they learned more.”
“But they didn't know before.”
“No.”
“Then why were they mean?”
Claire considered giving the comforting answer.
Instead she gave the truthful one.
“Because sometimes people would rather be first to judge than wait to understand.”
Emily thought about that.
“That's bad.”
“Yes.”
“Did Daddy hear them?”
“No, sweetheart.”
Claire hoped that was true.
Then someone knocked.
Officer Ruiz stood outside.
He held a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was Emily’s father's wallet.
“We found this about half a mile north of the water station.”
Emily rushed forward.
“Is Daddy there?”
“Not yet.”
Claire saw the look on his face.
“What else?”
Ruiz hesitated.
“There was blood on the wallet.”
Claire’s stomach dropped.
“How much?”
“We don’t know whether it belongs to him. They’re testing it.”
Emily heard.
She always heard.
“Daddy was already bleeding.”
Ruiz crouched.
“We know.”
“Then why did he keep walking?”
Ruiz glanced at Claire.
“Because Caleb needed him.”
Emily nodded as if that answer were obvious.
That evening, the search reached the first hunting cabin.
Empty.
The second was locked.
Nate broke the door.
Inside, they found ashes in the fireplace.
Still faintly warm.
A wet shirt hung over a chair.
An empty water bottle lay on the floor.
Rebecca entered behind him.
“Jason?”
No response.
They searched both rooms.
Nobody.
On the table lay a note written on the back of an old hunting-license envelope.
The handwriting was shaky.
CALEB WORSE. NEED DOCTOR. HEARD TRUCKS EAST. GOING TOWARD RIDGE. EMILY—I TRIED TO COME HOME. I’M SORRY.
Rebecca read the final sentence twice.
Nate looked toward the window.
“Why would he leave shelter?”
“Because he thinks the boy is dying.”
The radio cracked.
“Command, search team seven.”
Nate grabbed it.
“Go.”
“We've got tracks north of the cabin. Adult footprints and what looks like drag marks.”
Rebecca ran.
Half a mile north, searchers found a makeshift sled constructed from branches and part of an old canvas tarp.
Jason had apparently stopped carrying Caleb and begun dragging him.
The trail continued uphill.
Snow started falling.
At 6:31 p.m., they found blood.
At 6:48, they found one of Jason’s shoes.
At 7:02, the footprints disappeared beside a cliff overlooking Mill Creek.
Nate shined his light downward.
Thirty feet below, broken ice covered rushing water.
Rebecca felt sick.
“Jason!”
No answer.
Searchers spread along the edge.
Then a firefighter shouted.
“Over here!”
A child’s handprint marked the snow near a narrow path leading sideways along the cliff.
They followed it.
The trail ended at an old railway tunnel cut into the ridge.
Darkness swallowed the entrance.
Nate aimed his flashlight inside.
“Jason!”
Something moved.
A weak voice answered.
“Help…”
They ran.
Caleb lay wrapped in the canvas tarp.
Alive.
Barely.
Rebecca dropped beside him.
“Caleb, where’s Jason?”
The boy opened his eyes.
“He… went back.”
“Back where?”
Caleb tried to speak.
His lips trembled.
“The water.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“Why?”
The boy began crying.
May you like
“Because he heard a baby.”
And for the second time in four days, Jason Miller had apparently walked toward someone else’s disaster instead of away from it.
Related Stories
