Page 38 of Tanner

“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.”