Chapter 4 - The Neighbor's Secret
While rescue teams continued scouring the dense timberlands along Miller Creek, Natalie returned to Andrew’s rental house to conduct a deeper forensic sweep.
The neighborhood looked different by daylight—quiet, ordinary, and deceptively peaceful. But the lingering gossip among the residents had already hardened into a cruel narrative. Across the chain-link fence, Mrs. Gable—an elderly neighbor with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue—was sweeping her porch steps.
When she saw Natalie step out of the cruiser, she marched right over, her broom dragging behind her.
“About time someone locked that place up,” Mrs. Gable announced loudly, folding her arms. “I always said Andrew was in over his head. Too quiet, too secretive. Never talked to anyone about where he worked or how he paid the rent.”
Natalie turned slowly, her badge gleaming in the morning sun. “Mrs. Gable, Andrew didn't abandon his daughter. His truck was found wrecked at the bottom of a ravine four miles away.”
The older woman blinked, her critical expression faltering for a split second before her defensive walls went back up. “Well... accidents happen when people drive recklessly. But it doesn't change the fact that he kept that little girl locked away like a dirty secret.”
“He had a grocery list and an appointment card on his kitchen table,” Natalie said, her voice dropping into a sharp, authoritative register. “He was trying to get medicine for Ashley when he crashed. Did you see anyone else visit this house over the last week? Any unfamiliar cars?”
Mrs. Gable’s eyes flickered nervously toward the driveway next door. “I... I mind my own business, Officer.”
“That’s not minding your business, Mrs. Gable; that’s withholding information in an active missing person investigation,” Natalie said, stepping closer. “Did someone come to this house?”
Swallowing hard, Mrs. Gable lowered her voice. “Two days before the storm... a black SUV pulled up in their driveway. Two men in suits got out. They didn't knock on the front door; they went around back. I heard shouting. Andrew sounded angry—he told them to leave him alone and that he wouldn't sign anything. Then they drove off real fast.”
Natalie’s pulse spiked. “Did you get a license plate?”
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“No,” Mrs. Gable shook her head, looking genuinely shaken now. “But... I saw one of those men come back the night of the storm. He walked around the side of the house after the lights went out.”
The puzzle pieces began to slam together with terrifying clarity. Andrew’s crash hadn't simply been a tragic accident on a slick road. Someone had forced him off it.
