Читать книгу Blood of the Prodigal - P. L. Gaus - Страница 19

8

Friday, June 19

9:30 P.M.

JEFF Hostettler’s news that Jonah had been seen that spring in Cleveland was Branden’s first hard fact in a case that offered no sensible beginnings. Notwithstanding Caroline’s information about Donna Beachey’s somewhat nostalgic recollections, and beyond the details of Jonah’s troubles that she had been able to provide, Branden thought, he still had only Hostettler’s slim lead on Miller, and everything else pointed to trouble.

Bishop Miller’s account of his son had been bleak enough, and yet he hadn’t said a thing about Jeff Hostettler’s sister, Jeremiah’s mother. Nor had he mentioned how she had died, despite Hostettler’s assertion that “they,” whoever they were, had pretty much killed her themselves.

The custody battle over Jeremiah, no doubt heated, was another thing the bishop had neglected to mention. That, together with what the teacher had told Caroline, had put a nervous kink into Branden’s spine, and the mysterious reasons for the bishop’s one-month deadline heightened his concern.

From the second-floor bedroom Branden used as his study, he called out to his wife through the walls. “Caroline. Did Donna Beachey say she had any idea where we might find Jonah Miller?”

Caroline came into the study dressed in a summer nightgown and said, “No. She did say on the phone that she got a call from him, once, from Texas. That’s all.”

“Too far away,” Branden said. “He was in Cleveland last May.”

“I really didn’t make a point of asking her,” Caroline said, and pulled up a desk chair beside him at his computer.

He logged onto the internet, called up a search engine, selected a people finder, and typed in a search for Jonah Miller. He chose “find it,” and they watched as the search was run. Zero hits in Ohio for a Jonah Miller.

Branden modified the search to cover the whole nation and got only seven hits for Jonah Millers, altogether. He scanned the addresses, but found only distant states: North Carolina, Vermont, Kansas. No Ohio addresses, and nothing close to Ohio. He saved the data anyway.

“Maybe a derivative name, like John,” Caroline said, and pulled up a little closer to the screen.

Branden modified the search parameters to read John Miller and got sixty-two hits for Ohio. Only two were in northern Ohio, and neither of those was from Cleveland. Again, Branden saved the results. There were nine names, now, in total, and any one of them could be their Jonah Miller, he thought. More likely, none of them was.

Casting further, he ran four more searches. Jon Millers in Ohio, 45. Jon Millers nationwide, 337. J Millers in Ohio, 819. J Millers nationwide, one thousand, plus.

He sat there for a while with Caroline, gazing at the screen, and then printed out the seven hits for Jonah Millers in the nation, plus the two for John Millers in northern Ohio, one from Lorain and one from Sandusky.

In their bedroom, Caroline propped up some pillows and sat back on the bed, her legs crossed at the ankles. Branden sank into a soft chair and tapped a finger on the printout.

“This is a start, but it’s likely not going to be enough,” he said.

Caroline said, “At least two are northern Ohio.”

“I know, but he was only ‘seen’ in Cleveland.”

“You think he’s living somewhere else,” Caroline said.

“Could be anywhere.”

“Then how’d Miller expect you to be able to find him at all?” Caroline asked.

Branden responded with, “And why the one-month deadline?” Then, apparently offhand, he added, “I need to talk to the sheriff.”

Caroline nodded. “I’ll start calling Jonah Millers tomorrow.”

“Right,” Branden said and fell silent.

After several minutes had passed, Caroline said, “Maybe we shouldn’t be looking for Jonah Miller. Maybe we should look for Jeremiah.”

Branden mumbled, “How?” and shifted uneasily in his bedroom chair.