Chapter 2 - The Red Cooler
Jason didn’t run. He just stood by the pump house, blinking in the glare of the flashing light bars like an animal flushed out from a storm drain.
"Drop the tool!" a patrolman screamed, unholstering his weapon and leveling it with both hands. "Drop it right now!"
The heavy steel bolt-cutters slipped from Jason's fingers, thudding into the wet lawn. He raised two filthy, shaking hands into the air.
"I tried to stop her," he croaked. His voice sounded like gravel being churned in a concrete mixer. "You don't get it. She wouldn't listen to me."
"Shut up and get on your knees!"
"Jason!" I yelled, lunging across the grass before an officer slammed his forearm into my chest, pinning me hard against the wooden patio railing. "Where is Sarah? Where the hell is Sarah?"
Jason didn't even look at me. His bloodshot eyes remained fixed on Emily, who was trembling violently inside the paramedic's blanket, her face buried in the technician’s shoulder.
"She wanted to take the girl," Jason whispered. "She had the bags packed. I told her we had a deal with the bank. She was going to take everything."
"On the ground! Face down! Hands behind your back!"
Two officers took him down hard, driving his face into the muddy turf. His zip-ties snapped tight with an aggressive zip.
Just then, Martinez emerged from the basement door. His face had gone chalk-white. He carried an evidence bag containing a heavy brass key and a small, worn leather notebook with Sarah’s handwriting scrawled on the front cover.
"Don't put him in car four," Martinez told the arresting officers. "Put him in separate transport."
"What's in the basement, Martinez?" I demanded, fighting against the officer holding me back. "Tell me!"
Martinez looked straight through me. "Sir, you need to go to the hospital with your daughter. The medical examiner is on their way."
"The medical examiner? Sarah's in there?"
"No," Martinez said quietly, glancing back toward the house. "Your ex-wife isn't down there. But whatever happened in that cellar... she didn't walk out on her own feet."
Before I could speak, a third officer walked around the edge of the above-ground pool, his flashlight beam slicing through the murky water beneath the loose tarp.
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"Sergeant!" he called out, his voice cracking with panic. "There’s a heavy marine cooler submerged near the deep end. Chained to the bottom ladder rung."
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