Chapter Twenty-One
M iles knew something was wrong before he reached the porch. He couldn’t have said exactly what gave it. Maybe the fact that the curtains were open but there was no movement inside. Maybe because he’d been coming here often enough now that the place had a feel to it, and what he felt now was wrong.
He cut the engine and sat for one second with both hands on the wheel.
He was earlier than he’d said he’d be. His shift had ended without anything happening last minute, and on the drive over he’d made the stupid mistake of thinking maybe that meant he and Tanner might get one easy evening.
Takeout on the table. Savannah asleep before nine.
Tanner in that easier mood he got into sometimes now after the house had been checked and rechecked and there was nothing left to do but sit down and relax.
He picked up the grocery bag from the passenger seat and got out. As he walked up the path he noticed there were no cartoon noise from inside. No little feet hitting the floor. No Savannah trying to peer through the glass before Tanner opened the door.
The porch creaked under his boots when he crossed it, then he knocked on the door. Nothing. He waited, listening and when there was still nothing he knocked again. Harder this time. “Tanner.” Still nothing.
When there was still no response he checked the knob, finding it locked.
That didn’t mean much. Tanner locked the door even when he was only in the back garden with Savannah. Miles stood there for another few seconds, listening for any sounds of movement.
Still nothing.
He put the grocery bag down and moved to the living room window, noticing the crayons were gone.
Savannah always had something out by evening.
Crayons or books or her stuffed rabbit. The small shoes she kicked off near the door when she got in from preschool weren’t on the mat either.
That didn’t mean much. Tanner could have taken Savannah out to the park.
He went around the back to the kitchen window and looked in through the gap in the curtain seeing the empty sink. Countertop mostly clear. Light off. Chair pushed in.
Going back around the front, Miles stood on the porch and tried calling Tanner. When there was no answer, he left a voicemail. “Hey, I finished early and came over but you’re not here. Let me know when you’ll be back.”
The front door of the house opposite opened, and Mrs. Hemsworth stepped out. She crossed the road in her slippers and cardigan.
“You’ve got that look,” she said quietly.
Miles glanced at her. “What look?”
“The one that says whatever you’re thinking is worse than what you’re going to say out loud.”
He looked back at the window. “When did you last see them?”
“This afternoon. He picked her up, brought her home.” She folded her arms. “She was drawing in there.” She nodded toward the living room. “I saw her through the window.”
“Did you see them leave?”
“No.” Irritation flashed across her face. “I was on the phone with my sister and then I started making dinner. I looked out around six and thought the house seemed quiet, but quiet isn’t unusual with him.”
Miles took that in. “Did anyone come by?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Have you got a spare key?”
Mrs. Hemsworth’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because I need to get inside.”
She looked past him to the door. “You think he’s left.”
Miles held her gaze. “I think something’s wrong.”
She turned without another word, went back across the road, and returned less than a minute later with a small brass key pinched between her fingers.
“He never asked for it,” she said. “His father gave it to me years ago in case of emergencies and then never took it back.”
Miles took it. “Thanks.”
When the key turned on the first try, something in his chest sank harder. The house felt empty the second he stepped inside.
Miles glanced around, noticing things were missing. The small backpack hook by the door stood bare. No rabbit on the couch. No toddler shoes kicked under the chair. No sippy cup on the side table.
Mrs. Hemsworth stayed on the porch while he moved through the rooms.
Living room, kitchen, bathroom, upstairs.
Savannah’s room first. Her bed was neat, but there were gaps in the drawers where Tanner had pulled things out.
Tanner’s room was the same. Holdall gone from under the bed.
The top wardrobe shelf disturbed. He opened the bathroom cabinet and saw the toothbrushes still there.
Of course Tanner wouldn’t remember the toothbrushes.
That detail told him what he needed to know.
This hadn’t been planned. This had been triggered.
Miles went back downstairs slower than he had gone up.
The paper on the kitchen counter caught his eye before he reached the bottom step.
He crossed the room and picked it up. He only had to read the first few lines before he understood.
Follow-up home assessment. Child to be present. Additional staff member attending. Determining next steps. He exhaled and looked at the dark kitchen window.
Most people would have read it and felt slightly anxious about it, but Tanner would have read it and thought about Savannah being taken away from him.
There was another folded paper half tucked beneath it. Miles unfolded and read it.
I can’t lose her. I’m sorry.
He could see exactly how this had happened. Tanner alone in the kitchen. Savannah drawing in the next room. Letter in his hand. Panic snapping into place so fast it probably felt like instinct more than anything else. Pack bags, grab papers, get out before anyone could have stopped him.
Miles put the note down carefully. It wasn’t rejection or Tanner shutting him out because of whatever sat between them now. This was survival. The kind Tanner was used to, the kind he’d learned too young.
He looked around the kitchen again, making himself take in details. Chargers gone. Some paperwork gone. Savannah’s bottle missing from the draining board. He checked the coat hooks. Tanner’s hoodie gone. Her small pink raincoat gone too.
He took out his phone and called TJ first, knowing he was still at work.
TJ answered on the second ring. “What’s happened?”
“He’s gone.”
There was a pause, then, “What do you mean gone?”
“Tanner. Savannah. House is empty enough for me to know it was a deliberate decision, but that it wasn’t planned.” Miles looked at the CPS letter again. “CPS letter came today.”
TJ didn’t need more. “Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“You sure that’s what triggered it?”
Miles looked at the note. “I’m sure.”
There was movement on TJ’s end. “Don’t put this over dispatch.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good. The second it goes official he’ll hear about it or see a uniform and keep running.”
“I know.”
TJ swore softly. “You got any idea where he’d head?”
“Not yet.”
“Think. Bus station. Cheap motel. Anywhere crowded enough to disappear but public enough to feel safer with Savannah.”
Miles’ eyes narrowed. “Bus station.”
“Could be.”
“Mrs. Hemsworth said he asked about buses, but that was weeks ago.”
“That’d do it.”
Miles rested one hand on the counter. “How long before this stops being something we can keep quiet?”
TJ let out a hard breath. “Not long if someone from CPS can’t confirm he’s there when they check in on paperwork. Longer if nobody notices quicker. But if he’s left town with her and this turns into an official child welfare concern, we lose control of it.”
That fit what Miles already knew. “I’ll find him first.”
“You’d better.”
“Yeah.”
“Keep me posted. And Miles?”
“Yeah?”
“Do not corner him.”
Miles looked down at the note again. “Wasn’t planning to.”
He ended the call and stared at the note for another minute when his phone rang. Seeing it was Cody, he knew TJ had spoken to his partner.
“What’s happened?”
Miles gave him the short version then sighed heavily.
Cody went quiet, then said, “He ran.”
“Yeah.”
“And with Savannah because there’s no chance he’s leaving without her.”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus.” Cody dragged a breath. “Okay. Alright. Don’t push him. If he thinks this is someone trying to take her, he’ll go through you.”
“I know.”
Cody was quiet another second. “He’s not thinking clear right now.”
“No.”
“That doesn’t make him stupid.”
Miles looked toward the window. “No.”
“He’ll stay somewhere public first if he’s got her. Somewhere he can watch people coming and going.” Cody’s tone sharpened. “He won’t take her somewhere that feels dangerous. Not while she’s upset.”
“Bus station?” Miles said.
“Could be. Or somewhere near it.”
“I’m heading there.”
“I’ll call Orsen. If Tanner phoned anyone for cash before he left, it’d be him, but I doubt he did.”
“Alright.”
Miles ended the call and stood. Mrs. Hemsworth tapped lightly on the door frame before stepping inside. “Well?”
Miles turned to face her.
She took one look at the counter and went still. Her eyes landed on the letterhead, then on him. “That did it.”
“Yeah.”
Her lips thinned. “Bloody fools.”
Miles knew she meant the process, not Tanner. “Did he say anything to you recently about going anywhere? Anyone he might call?”
“No.” She looked toward the stairs. “He’d rather struggle than admit he needs help. He shouldn’t still be this scared.”
Miles ran a hand over his face. “He’s young.”
Mrs. Hemsworth’s gaze shifted to the note. She didn’t reach for it. “You know where he’ll go?”
“Not yet.”
“But you will.”
He slipped the note into his pocket and left the CPS letter on the table. “I’m going to find him before someone else does.”
“You’re not bringing a cruiser full of uniforms to my street?”
“No.”
“Good.” She straightened her cardigan. “If you get him back here, I’ll keep an eye from my side. I’ll also have words with him, but that can wait.”
Despite everything, that almost got a smile out of him. “Yeah.”
Mrs. Hemsworth looked past him toward the front door. “Go on, then.”
He was halfway across the porch when Mrs. Hemsworth said, “Miles.” He turned back seeing her face had softened just enough to let her concern show. “Bring them home without making him regret trying to leave.”
Miles held her gaze. “That’s the plan.”
The drive into town felt too short and too long at the same time.
He ran through all the possibilities the whole way.
If Tanner had enough cash for tickets. If he’d gone straight to the station or walked first to clear his head.
If Savannah had started crying before they got there.
If Tanner had seen sense and turned around already.
No, that wasn’t fair. Panic had its own way of working, depending on the person. Tanner wasn’t being reckless for the hell of it. He was nineteen and exhausted and carrying old fear in a system that had already taught him once what happened when adults started making decisions around him.
Miles parked away from the front of the station. He sat with the engine off and looked at his reflection in the windshield. No uniform. Good. No radio visible. Good. No backup. Better.
He got out, shut the door quietly, and headed inside with only one clear plan in his head. He was going to bring them back. And he was going to do it without making Tanner feel trapped.