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“Alright,” Miles said. “That’s all I needed.”

She stared at him for another second, then shut the door. Miles walked back to his cruiser, logged the check, and moved on. Dispatch called him ten minutes later.

“Unit Twelve, suspicious vehicle, County 9 near the old mill. Caller reports it’s been there an hour.”

Miles answered. “Unit Twelve. On my way.”

County 9 was quiet. The old mill sat behind a fence, half-collapsed now, and nobody went there unless they had a reason, which was usually teenagers who wanted some privacy. A white van was parked on the shoulder with its engine off.

Miles parked behind it at an angle and approached from the driver’s side, peering inside to see a man slumped in the driver’s seat. He tapped the window and the man inside jerked awake and stared at him.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” the man blurted as soon as his window was down.

“You’re parked on the side of the road near a closed mill,” Miles responded. “People call that in.”

The man swallowed. “I was only resting.”

Miles kept his tone professional. “You okay to drive?”

“I’m fine.”

Miles didn’t take that at face value. He watched the man’s hands then watched his eyes. “License,” Miles asked.

The man fumbled for his wallet and handed it over. Miles checked and saw a local address. There were no warrants either and he couldn’t smell any alcohol or drugs.

Handing the license back, Miles said, “Don’t park here. If you need a minute, pull into a lot. Somewhere safe.”

The man nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

Miles stepped back. “Off you go.”

The driver nodded, turned the engine on and drove away. Miles watched it disappear, then got back in his cruiser and logged the contact.

The rest of the shift was small calls. A busted taillight. A report for a bike a kid insisted had been stolen when it had probably been left at a friend’s house. Miles didn’t mind those calls as they helped the day pass faster.

Another call about kids hanging around the shopping carts had Miles talking to them in the parking lot. One of them mouthed off but stopped abruptly when Miles stared at him. They moved off toward the diner and the main street.

Miles noted the details. Time, location, names if he had them. He didn’t love paperwork, but he liked having his facts straight because he never knew when he would need them.

Near the end of the day, he took a minor collision report on the highway. When he got there he found two cars, with an angry man and a woman close to tears.

Miles separated them, got statements, took photos, and kept his voice calm until they both calmed down. It wasn’t exciting work, but it was important in case anything came up later.

When he got back to the station, the front was quiet. Dee sat at reception with her reading glasses on, looking at her monitor. She looked up as Miles walked in and smiled.

Miles went to his desk and began the boring job of completing paperwork then double checking it, because he knew if he did it wrong TJ would make him redo it. Once he’d checked it over, he put it in the completed pile and logged out of his computer.

Taylor was still at his desk, typing with his shoulders hunched. “Don’t stay too late,” Miles told him.

Taylor didn’t look up. “I won’t.”

Grabbing his things, Miles walked out. “Night,” Miles said to Dee as he walked past.

Dee looked up. “Night, Deputy.”

Miles stepped outside into the cold, headed to his truck and drove home.

Chapter Four