Page 77 of Tanner

“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.”