Chapter 2 - The House at the End of Miller RoadWade Harlan's property looked worse up close.
The mailbox leaned sideways.
Two dead vehicles sat in knee-high grass.
A child's plastic riding toy lay overturned near the porch.
No lights were visible inside.
Marcus parked our tow truck fifty yards away.
“Baby in there?” he asked.
“Supposedly.”
Luis pointed.
“Someone's home.”
A blue Ford pickup stood behind the barn.
Registered, according to Dee's quick check, to Wade.
We called state child protection.
The investigator told us not to enter.
State police were forty minutes away.
Then we heard crying.
Not loud.
A baby.
Marcus looked at me.
“No.”
“I'm not doing anything.”
“You've got your stupid face.”
“I have one face.”
“You've got the one you had before towing that school bus out of floodwater.”
I ignored him.
The crying continued.
Then stopped.
Then started again.
We walked to the porch.
I knocked.
No answer.
Again.
“Mr. Harlan?”
Nothing.
Luis walked toward the side window.
“Tom.”
“What?”
He pointed.
The kitchen door was open six inches.
I called the investigator again.
“We have an unsecured residence and an infant crying inside.”
She told us emergency circumstances allowed us to ensure immediate safety while police were en route.
Marcus looked at me.
“That sounds lawyer enough.”
We entered.
The smell hit first.
Beer.
Dirty dishes.
Dog urine.
Baby formula.
Then we found Eli.
He sat strapped inside a high chair in the living room.
Alone.
His diaper sagged.
Dried food covered his shirt.
He had been crying so long that his face was red.
Dee immediately moved toward him.
“Hey, little man.”
She checked him without removing him initially.
No obvious injuries.
But he was desperately thirsty.
We called emergency medical services.
I searched only enough to determine whether an adult was present.
Nobody.
Then I saw it.
The red door.
At the end of the hallway.
Padlocked.
Luis said:
“Don't.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“You were looking.”
“Looking is legal.”
“You say things like that right before paperwork happens.”
We waited.
Paramedics arrived.
Then state troopers.
Eli was removed for evaluation.
A trooper named Dana Mitchell questioned us.
“You know the homeowner?”
“No.”
“Why were you here?”
I held up Caleb's jar.
“Because his seven-year-old stepson hired us.”
Dana stared.
“I need more explanation than that.”
We gave it.
Her expression became harder with every sentence.
Then Wade's truck suddenly roared behind the barn.
We had assumed the pickup was empty.
Wrong.
It accelerated across the field.
Dana shouted.
Troopers moved.
Wade aimed for the side road.
Marcus looked toward Truck Three.
Then at me.
“No.”
I said:
“What?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I'm standing still.”
“Your eyes aren't.”
Wade nearly reached the road.
Luis was already inside the tow truck.
He lowered the hydraulic wheel lift.
Not into Wade.
Across the narrow gate.
Wade slammed on the brakes.
The pickup spun into mud.
Troopers surrounded him.
Marcus stared at Luis.
“You blocked a fleeing suspect with a tow truck.”
Luis shrugged.
“I parked badly.”
Wade was pulled from the vehicle screaming.
“I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!”
Then he saw me.
“Who the hell are you?”
I held the penny jar.
“Tow company.”
Wade's confusion almost made the moment funny.
Almost.
Dana detained him for child endangerment while investigators searched the residence under emergency authority.
Then they cut the padlock.
The red room was not what I expected.
No drugs.
No weapons.
At first.
Just shelves.
Boxes.
A computer.
Phones.
One labeled:
MELANIE.
Caleb's mother.
Dead fourteen months.
Investigators stopped us at the doorway.
Official search only.
Hours later, Dana called me.
“You should go back to the hospital.”
“Why?”
“Caleb needs to know Eli is safe.”
“And Buster?”
“The hospital can't keep him permanently.”
“I'll take him.”
“You run a towing company.”
“So?”
“Is there anything you don't tow?”
“Boats.”
“Really?”
“Rates are terrible.”
She almost smiled.
Then:
“Tom.”
“Yeah?”
“The mother's phone contained videos.”
My humor disappeared.
“What kind?”
“Evidence.”
“Against Wade?”
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
She paused.
“Enough that her death may not have been an accident.”
I looked toward the Harlan property.
Fourteen months earlier, Melanie Dorsey supposedly fell down a basement staircase.
Wade told investigators she had been drinking.
Case closed.
Apparently Melanie knew someone might doubt her.
So she recorded things.
And hid the phone behind a red door.
But if Wade had possession of it, why hadn't he destroyed it?
Dana gave me the answer later.
“He couldn't unlock it.”
Fingerprint and password protection.
But Caleb knew the code.
When I told him Eli was safe, he began crying.
Then:
“Did you find Mom's phone?”
“Yes.”
He whispered six numbers.
“Her birthday.”
May you like
The phone opened.
And everything changed.
Related Stories
