Page 18 of Tanner

Miles didn’t pull into the driveway but parked two houses down, behind a pickup, and shut the engine off. He sat for a second and watched the house.

Nothing moved in the Fernsby windows, but that didn’t mean anything. Miles picked up his phone and called TJ.

TJ answered on the second ring. “You there?”

“Yeah,” Miles said. “Parked down the street. House looks quiet. No signs of forced entry from here.”

“Copy,” TJ replied. “Take your time.”

Miles ended the call and clipped his radio. He didn’t want it blaring if he didn’t have to, but he wanted it within reach.

He got out, shut the door quietly and noticed how cold it was. If the house was unheated then it wouldn’t be pleasant inside, especially with a child.

Walking toward the Fernsby place at a steady pace, Miles kept his hands visible. He didn’t touch his weapon. He wanted his body language to show he was relaxed and that he wasn’t there to cause any trouble.

As he reached the edge of the yard, he glanced toward the house across the street. Mrs. Hemsworth’s curtains were drawn, but a narrow gap showed movement behind them. She was watching and Miles didn’t blame her.

Walking up the path, Miles noticed the Fernsby front door was shut, but it didn’t sit quite right in the frame. Miles stepped onto the porch, hearing the boards creak under his boots.

Ignoring the sound, Miles stopped and looked at the door. There were no obvious signs of damage. No splintered wood or fresh scrape marks around the lock. Just old paint and worn edges.

He leaned slightly, listening. At first there was nothing, then he heard a floorboard shift inside. His eyes went to the window beside the door, seeing it was too dusty to see through properly, but he could make out shapes inside.

Miles didn’t knock yet. He lifted his head and called through the door, voice clear but not loud. “Sheriff’s department. Anyone inside?”

There was nothing but silence at first, but then there was another small movement. Closer to the door this time.

Miles kept his tone calm and even. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just need to speak to you.”

He waited and when there was no response, he exhaled slowly. If it was Tanner, he might be standing behind that door deciding whether to run or fight or hide. If Savannah was with him, that made the decision harder. Miles moved one step to the side. He didn’t want to be directly in front of the door if someone yanked it open and came at him.

He glanced down and searched the immediate area. On the porch, near the wall, there was a faint smear in the dust where something had been dragged. A bag, maybe? A footprint, too. That was enough to confirm someone had used this porch recently.

Miles looked back at the door. Inside, something shifted again, and a small sound followed it. Miles furrowed his brow trying to place it. It wasn’t a TV. It wasn’t the creak of the house.

It sounded like a child.

Miles’ jaw tightened. “Okay,” he said, in a calm voice. “Listen. I’m Deputy Miles Owens. I work with Sheriff Redding. I just need to make sure everyone’s alright.”

He waited again, giving whoever was inside time to decide.

The porch creaked behind him, and Miles turned his head slightly to see Mrs. Hemsworth standing at the edge of her yard across the street, cardigan pulled tight. She didn’t come closer but stood there like she couldn’t help coming out to see what was happening.

Miles held her gaze for half a second, then shook his head once, but she didn’t move. Miles turned back to the door and decided to ignore her.

Lifting his hand, Miles paused before knocking. He heard a sound close to the door and made his decision. He knocked and stood back, waiting to see what would happen next.

Inside the house, movement immediately followed his knocks. Miles held his posture steady, ready for the door to open.

Chapter Six

Tanner moved when he heard the knock on the door. He crossed the living room in two quiet steps and stopped with his hand on the chain. His heart was already racing, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

A man’s voice came through the door. “Sheriff’s department. Anyone inside?”

Tanner didn’t answer. He stood and breathed quietly, hearing the man say, “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just need to speak to you.” When he remained silent, the man spoke again. “Okay,” he said, his voice calm. “Listen. I’m Deputy Miles Owens. I work with Sheriff Redding. I just need to make sure everyone’s alright.”

Tanner slid his fingers under the chain and held it there for a second, the metal digging into his skin. If he opened the door and it was CPS, he’d shut it again. If it was a deputy, he’d still shut it again.