Chapter Eleven
M iles parked behind the station thirty minutes before his shift and sat with the engine off, staring at nothing in particular.
The lot was half full, and the morning still cold enough to leave frost along the fence next to it.
That was the thing about Robinson. Most mornings started the same, and that made Tanner’s situation stand out more.
By the time Miles got inside, Dee was already at reception with a mug in one hand and her reading glasses low on her nose. She looked up when he came through the door.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“You’re early.”
Miles shrugged out of his jacket. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Dee gave him a brief look, then returned to the screen in front of her. “Coffee’s fresh. For once.”
“How fresh is fresh?”
“It was made twenty minutes ago. That counts as fresh in here.”
Miles almost smiled and kept walking. Taylor was already at his desk with one boot propped against the bottom drawer, flipping through a report with the same expression he wore for most paperwork, which was a look of mild disgust.
“You look rough,” Taylor said without looking up.
Miles poured coffee into a mug. “You all need new material.”
Taylor snorted. “You need more sleep.”
“Probably.”
TJ’s office door opened before Taylor could say anything else. “Briefing room,” TJ said.
Miles took his coffee and followed him in. Taylor came in behind him and shut the door behind them. TJ placed a folder on his desk but kept hold of the stack of papers in his hand.
“We had a quiet enough night,” TJ told them. “One alarm at the hardware store which turned out to be a faulty sensor. A noise complaint out by the old quarry. Turned out to be three college kids with a speaker.”
Taylor leaned back in his chair. “Were they at least apologetic?”
“No.”
“Why am I not surprised.”
TJ ignored him and opened the folder. “School crossing first thing. Patrol after that. Dee’s got a message from county about the Fernsby property paperwork. Miles, I’ll need you on that when you’re back in.”
Miles nodded. “Alright.”
Taylor glanced up at him then at TJ, but said nothing.
TJ kept going through the rest of the day’s assignments.
A call about fencing down along Miller Road.
A complaint about a dog running loose again.
Someone had backed into a mailbox and driven off.
By the time TJ was done, Miles’ morning was planned out.
Miles finished his coffee and stood. “I’ll head out.”
“Keep your radio on.”
Taylor got up too. “Try not to fall in love with the paperwork.”
Miles stared at him. “I’d rather get hit by my own truck.”
“That can be arranged.”
They split up after that. Miles did the crossing, waved kids and tired parents through the morning traffic.
He could stand on a corner with a stop sign in his hand, nod at the same families he’d seen for years, and know exactly how the rest of the morning would go.
He knew who would wave. Who would complain.
Who would stop him to ask about a dog, a cousin, or whether the diner was changing suppliers because the coffee tasted different on Tuesdays.
Then there was Tanner. Tanner, who had come back to town with a Savannah, a house that had sat empty for years, and no paperwork for the one thing that mattered most. Tanner, who had invited him over after a week of silence and then acted like he didn’t know what to do with the fact that Miles had stayed.
Miles didn’t know what to do with it either, which was part of the problem.
By late morning he was back at the station. Dee handed him a message slip before he made it halfway across reception.
“County clerk called. Left that for you. They faxed something through, too.”
Miles took the slip. “Thanks.”
Dee lowered her voice. “It’s about the Fernsby house.”
“I figured.”
Her expression softened. “That boy back for good?”
Miles folded the slip once. “Looks that way.”
Dee nodded slowly. “Poor kid.”
Miles didn’t answer but walked to his desk, put the message slip down, and looked over the faxed pages waiting there. Part of the will paperwork had finally been found and logged properly.
Taylor wheeled his chair back a few inches. “That it?”
Miles glanced over. “What?”
“The Fernsby paperwork.”
“Yeah.”
Taylor leaned one elbow on the desk. “Good news or bad?”
Miles skimmed the first page. “Depends which part you mean.”
“That bad, huh?”
Miles didn’t answer right away. He read through the summary again, slower this time. Their parents’ will had left the house to Tanner. The wording was clear enough on that point. Ownership could be proved. It wasn’t a legal mess, which was more than Miles had expected.
For a second, relief hit. At least Tanner had that. A house with his name tied to it and then he thought about Savannah. He sat back in his chair and stared at the page.
Taylor watched him. “You gonna tell me or just brood at it?”
“The house is his.”
Taylor frowned. “That’s good.”
“Yeah.” Miles folded the page once, then opened it again. “It is.”
Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “There’s a but coming.”
Miles looked over at him. “House is one thing. Savannah is another.”
Taylor was quiet for a second after that. “He doesn’t have guardianship.”
Miles shook his head. “Not formally.”
Taylor swore under his breath and leaned back in his chair. “That’ll do it.”
That was the problem. In Robinson, it didn’t take much. A teacher asking the wrong question. A form at a clinic. Somebody at daycare trying to be thorough.
Miles looked back at the papers on his desk. “He’s trying to sort things out for Savannah.”
Taylor’s head came up. “He told you that?”
“Yeah.”
Taylor studied him for a moment, then said, “And they asked.” Miles nodded. Taylor rubbed his jaw. “He’ll hate that.”
“He already does.”
TJ stepped out of his office. He looked between them and said, “Miles. A minute.”
Miles grabbed the Fernsby pages and followed him into the office. TJ shut the door but didn’t sit right away. He stood by the desk while Miles handed over the paperwork.
TJ read the top page once, then again. “Alright. That’s something.”
Miles stayed standing. “Only on the house side.”
TJ looked up at him. “Yeah.”
Miles waited a minute, then said, “He doesn’t have legal guardianship.”
“I know.” TJ put the paper down and rubbed the back of his neck.
“He’s running into it already. Preschool. Doctor.”
“That fast?”
Miles nodded. “He told me last night.”
TJ put the paper down. “Last night?”
Miles kept his face neutral. “Yeah.”
TJ watched him for a second. “You getting too close to this?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I’m doing my job.”
TJ’s expression didn’t change. “That wasn’t my question.”
Miles shrugged. “He talked. I listened. That’s all.”
TJ held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded at the paperwork on the desk. “Make sure it stays clear in your head what this is. Because if this turns into a conflict of interest, I need to know before it becomes one.”
Miles said, “It’s handled.”
TJ didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. “Fine. Then handle it.”
“Point is, it’s already coming up. House being his gives him stability. It doesn’t cover Savannah if somebody starts asking questions.”
TJ leaned back against the edge of the desk and folded his arms. “No, it doesn’t.”
Neither of them spoke for a minute, then Miles said, “It only takes one person.”
TJ nodded. “I know how it goes.”
“Someone sees a young guy with a little kid. Somebody asks where her mother is, where her paperwork is, why she isn’t registered here, why he’s signing for her.” Miles kept his tone even. “Then someone makes a call because they think they’re doing the right thing.”
TJ let out a long breath. “Yeah.”
Miles rubbed a hand over his face. “He’ll run if anyone comes at him.”
“That’s why nobody’s coming at him.”
Miles looked up sharply. “You can’t control everyone.”
“No,” TJ agreed. “But I can control how this department handles it.”
“That’s part of it.”
TJ straightened and came around the desk. “What are you asking me, Miles?”
Miles thought about Tanner at the table, and the way he’d tensed. He thought about the way he’d said, they ask for proof and I don’t have it. Thought about Savannah in that house, with Tanner trying to protect her.
“I’m asking what the actual path is,” Miles said eventually. “Not the ideal version. The real one.”
TJ was quiet for a moment, then nodded toward the chair. “Sit down.”
Miles sat. TJ remained standing, one hand on the back of the other chair.
“The real path is that he needs legal advice and probably family court. He needs someone to help him establish guardianship formally if it was never done. The fact he’s her brother helps.
The fact there’s a house helps. The fact he’s been caring for her all this time helps if it can be shown.
” TJ paused. “The missing years complicate things.”
Miles stared at him. “You mean they’ll ask where he’s been.”
“Of course they will.” TJ went on. “None of that means he loses her, but that’s what he’ll assume, and I don’t blame him.”
“No.”
TJ looked at him more closely. “You’re taking this personally.” Miles didn’t answer. “That wasn’t a question.”
Leaning back in his chair, Miles licked his lips then looked at TJ. “He’s trying. That has to count for something.” It mattered to Miles more than it should have.
“It does.”
“He’s not careless with her.”
“No. He isn’t.”
Miles looked down at his hand then back at TJ. “Then I need to say something before someone else does. If it comes from a receptionist or a teacher or somebody at the clinic counter, he’ll hear it as a threat. If it comes from me in uniform, we could have the same problem.”
“Probably.” TJ nodded his eyes on Miles.
“But if nobody tells him, then he walks straight into it blind.”
Miles looked at TJ. “We need to tell him what comes next.”
TJ’s jaw tightened. “Not until he’s steady enough to hear it.”
Miles frowned. “He needs the truth.”
“Yeah,” TJ said. “And if you dump court, guardianship, and filings on him right now, all he’ll hear is that people are lining up to decide whether he keeps her or not. We get the basics done for him first and then we tell him the rest.”
Finally, TJ said, “So you tell him. Carefully.” TJ paused then continued, “Not as a deputy. You tell him as someone giving him the truth before it blindsides him.”
Miles nodded. “Okay.”
TJ tilted his head. “Can you do that?”
Miles met his eyes. “Yeah.” TJ’s expression said he wasn’t only asking about the conversation. Miles ignored that and nodded again. “Yeah,” he repeated.
“You push too hard,” TJ said, “and he’ll shut down or run. You make it sound official, and he’ll hear CPS even if you never say the letters. So don’t do that.”
“I know.”
TJ picked up the paperwork again. “I’ll ask around quietly. See who can point him in the right direction.”
Miles stood. “Okay.”
TJ’s voice stopped him before he got to the door. “Miles.”
He turned back and looked at TJ. “Yeah?”
TJ held the papers loosely in one hand. “Don’t get too close.”
Miles’ jaw tightened. “I won’t.” Though he knew that was already too late.
“Make sure you do.”
Miles held his gaze for a second, then nodded and left the office.
The rest of the shift continued normally after that. He took a call about a loose horse, and wrote up a statement for a fender bender in the grocery store parking lot. Every ordinary task only seemed to sharpen what he knew.
Tanner had a house and that mattered, but also Tanner didn’t have the one piece of paper everyone else would treat as more important than the years of keeping Savannah clothed, fed.
By the time Miles left, he’d made up his mind.
He wasn’t going to wait for the next form, or question, or the next well-meaning person to get involved. He would bring it up himself and give Tanner a chance to hear it before somebody else forced it on him.
Because if Miles came at him like a deputy, Tanner would run. He already knew that. And if Tanner ran again with Savannah, then he might never come back, and Miles wasn’t sure if he wanted Tanner and Savannah to disappear from his life.