Chapter 2 - The Blue Pickup Below the Guardrail
At County General Hospital, Ashley woke beneath warm blankets.
Natalie sat beside her.
Buddy rested against the pillow.
Ashley opened her eyes.
“Where’s Daddy?”
Natalie hated the question.
“We’re looking for him.”
“He didn’t leave me.”
“I know.”
Ashley stared at her.
“You believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Everybody says Daddy’s bad.”
“Everybody doesn’t know what happened.”
Ashley swallowed.
“He promised.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Ashley thought carefully.
“He said, ‘Thirty minutes, bug. Medicine first, groceries second, then home.’”
“Anything else?”
Ashley nodded.
“He said something weird.”
“What?”
“He hugged me really tight.”
Natalie waited.
Ashley whispered:
“He said, ‘Everything I do is because I love you.’”
Natalie gently squeezed her hand.
Across town, the search around Andrew’s pickup intensified.
Detective Marcus Reed stood beside the wreck.
The blue truck had smashed through a guardrail before sliding into a ravine.
The driver’s door hung open.
There was blood on the steering wheel.
Not much.
Enough.
Marcus shined his flashlight toward the woods.
“He survived the initial crash.”
“How do you know?” an officer asked.
“No body in the truck. Door open. Footprints.”
Rain had destroyed most of the tracks.
A paramedic crouched near the roadside.
“Detective.”
Marcus walked over.
The paramedic held up a pharmacy bag.
Inside was Ashley’s prescription.
Beside it lay a grocery receipt.
Timestamp:
Sunday, 6:18 p.m.
Marcus read the items.
Rice.
Chicken.
Electrolyte drinks.
Soup crackers.
Applesauce.
Exactly what had been written on Andrew’s kitchen table.
Marcus called Natalie.
She answered immediately.
“You found something?”
“He bought the medicine.”
Natalie closed her eyes.
“So he was coming home.”
“Looks that way.”
“What happened?”
“His truck went through a guardrail during Sunday’s storm.”
“And Andrew?”
“Missing.”
Natalie looked toward Ashley’s hospital room.
“Then why hasn’t anyone found him?”
“That’s what worries me.”
By morning, the story had changed.
Some people deleted their posts.
Others doubled down.
The neighbor in the yellow raincoat, Denise Harper, appeared on a local livestream.
“I’m just saying, maybe the crash was staged.”
Natalie watched the clip on her phone.
Marcus entered.
“You look angry.”
“I am.”
“Good. Use it.”
He dropped a folder onto the table.
“What’s that?”
“Andrew Miller’s records.”
Natalie opened it.
Andrew was thirty-five.
Widower.
His wife, Rachel, had died three years earlier.
Warehouse mechanic.
No criminal record.
No history with child services.
Natalie turned another page.
Medical bills.
Thousands of dollars.
“What was wrong with Ashley?”
“Doctors were still investigating.”
Marcus pointed to a note.
“Recurring abdominal pain, fatigue, weight loss.”
Natalie frowned.
“The urgent appointment.”
“Exactly.”
“And Andrew?”
Marcus placed another document down.
“His employer says he’d been working overtime.”
“How much?”
“Sixty hours most weeks.”
“For medical bills?”
“Apparently.”
Natalie sat back.
“So while everyone thought he was failing his daughter…”
“He was exhausting himself trying to help her.”
A search volunteer entered.
“Detective?”
Marcus stood.
“What?”
“We found something.”
Twenty minutes later they were back near County Road Six.
A search dog had picked up Andrew’s scent.
The trail descended from the truck.
Then crossed through trees.
Marcus followed until they reached an abandoned maintenance shed.
The door was partially open.
“Andrew Miller!” Marcus shouted.
Nothing.
Natalie pushed inside.
Empty.
Then she saw something scratched into the dust on the floor.
A word.
ASHLEY
Beside it was a bloody handprint.
Natalie’s face went pale.
“He was here.”
Marcus examined the ground.
“He was injured.”
“Where did he go?”
A search dog barked outside.
Everyone ran.
The dog pulled toward a drainage canal.
Then stopped beside a muddy embankment.
Natalie saw a piece of fabric caught on a branch.
Blue denim.
She whispered:
May you like
“Andrew.”
But below them, the flooded creek stretched for miles.
