hat night, while Miles studied the file in the kitchen, Jonah had his first nightmare in weeks.

It took Miles a moment to register the sound. He’d studied the file until nearly two in the morning; that, coupled with the all-night shift the evening before and everything that had happened during the day, had drained him completely, and his body seemed to rebel when he heard Jonah’s cries. Like being forced to move through a room filled with wet cotton, consciousness returned slowly, and even as he moved toward Jonah’s room, it was more of a Pavlovian response than a desire to comfort his son.

It was early in the morning, a few minutes before dawn. Miles carried Jonah to the porch; by the time his cries finally stopped, the sun was already up.  Because it was Saturday and he didn’t have to go to school, Miles carried Jonah back to the bedroom and started a pot of coffee. His head was pounding, so he took two aspirin and washed them down with orange juice.  He felt as if he had a hangover.

While the coffee was brewing, Miles retrieved the file and the notes he’d made the night before; he wanted to go over them one more time before heading into work. Jonah surprised him, however, by returning to the kitchen before he had a chance to do so. He padded in, his eyes puffy as he rubbed them, then sat at the table.

“Why are you up?” Miles asked. “It’s still early.”

“I’m not tired,” Jonah answered.

“You look tired.”

“I had a bad dream.”

Jonah’s words caught Miles off-guard. Jonah never remembered having the dreams before.

“You did?”

Jonah nodded. “I dreamed you were in an accident. Like Mommy was.” Miles went to Jonah’s side. “It was just a dream,” he said. “Nothing happened, okay?”

Jonah wiped his nose with the back of his hand. In his race car pajamas, he looked younger than he was.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, not at all. Why would you think I’m mad?”

“You didn’t talk to me at all yesterday.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t mad at you. I was just trying to figure out some stuff.”

“About Mommy?”

Miles was caught off-guard again. “Why do you think it’s about Mommy?” he asked.  “Because you were looking at those papers again.” Jonah pointed to the file on the table. “They’re about Mommy, aren’t they?”

After a moment, Miles nodded. “Kind of.”

“I don’t like those papers.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he said, “they make you sad.”

“They don’t make me sad.”

“Yeah, they do,” Jonah said. “And they make me sad, too.”

“Because you miss Mommy?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “because they make you forget about me.”

The words made Miles’s throat constrict. “That’s not true.”

“Then why didn’t you talk to me yesterday?”

He sounded almost on the verge of tears, and Miles pulled Jonah closer. “I’m sorry, Jonah. It won’t happen again.”

Jonah looked up at him. “Do you promise?”

Miles made an X over his chest and smiled. “Cross my heart.”

“And hope to die?”

With Jonah’s wide eyes piercing him, that was exactly what Miles felt like doing.

• • •

After having breakfast with Jonah, Miles called Sarah to apologize to her as well. Sarah interrupted before he had a chance to finish.  “Miles, you don’t have to say you’re sorry. After all that happened, it was pretty obvious that you needed to be alone. How are you feeling this morning?” “I’m not sure. About the same, I guess.”

“Are you going in to work?”

“I have to. Charlie called. He wants me to meet him in a little while.”

“Will you call me later?”

“If I get the chance. I’ll probably be pretty tied up today.”

“With the investigation, you mean?”

When Miles didn’t answer, Sarah twirled a few strands of hair. “Well, if you need to talk and can’t reach me, I’ll be at my mom’s house.” “Okay.”

Even after hanging up the phone, Sarah couldn’t escape the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

• • •

By nine in the morning, Charlie was working on his fourth cup of coffee and told Madge to keep them coming. He’d slept only a couple of hours and had made it back to the station before the sun had risen.

He’d been busy ever since. He’d met with Harvey, interviewed Otis in his cell, and spent some time with Thurman Jones. He’d also called in extra deputies to look for Sims Addison. So far, nothing.

He had, though, come to some decisions.

• • •

Miles arrived twenty minutes later and found Charlie waiting for him outside his office.

“You doing okay?” Charlie asked, thinking Miles looked no better than he did.

“Tough night.”

“Tough day, too. Need some coffee?”

“Had plenty at the house.”

He motioned over his shoulder. “C’mon in, then—we have to talk.” After Miles entered, Charlie closed the door behind him and Miles sat in the chair. Charlie leaned against the desk.

“Listen, before we begin,” Miles started, “I guess you should know that I’ve been working on this since yesterday, and I think I might have some ideas—” Charlie shook his head, not letting him finish. “Look, Miles, that’s not why I wanted to see you. Right now, I need you to listen, okay?” There was something in his expression that told Miles he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear, and he stiffened.

Charlie glanced at the tile floor, then back at Miles again.  “I’m not going to beat around the bush here. We’ve known each other too long for that.” He paused.

“What is it?”

“I’m going to release Otis Timson today.”

Miles’s mouth opened, but before he said anything, Charlie raised his hands.  “Now before you think I’m jumping to conclusions, hear me out. I didn’t have a choice, not based on the information that I have so far. Yesterday, after you left, I went up to visit with Earl Getlin.”

He told Miles what Getlin had said.

“Then you have the proof you need,” Miles shot back.  “Now hold on. Let me also say I think there are some serious questions about his possible testimony. From what I heard, Thurman Jones would eat him alive, and there’s not a jury that would believe a word he said.”

“So leave that up to the jury,” Miles protested. “You can’t just let him go.” “My hands are tied. Believe me, I stayed up all night, looking over the case. As it stands, we don’t have enough to hold him. Especially now that Sims has flown the coop.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sims. I had deputies looking for him yesterday, last night, and this morning.  After he left here, he just vanished. No one’s been able to find him, and Harvey isn’t willing to let any of this go on unless he can talk to Sims.” “For God’s sake, Otis admitted it.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Charlie said.

“He killed my wife.” Miles spoke through clenched teeth.

Charlie hated the fact that he had to do this.

“This isn’t just my decision. Right now, without Sims, we don’t have a case and you know it. Harvey Wellman said there was no way that the DA’s office would file charges as things stand now.”

“Harvey’s making you do this?”

“I spent the morning with him,” Charlie answered, “and I also talked to him yesterday. Believe it when I say he’s been more than fair. It’s nothing personal—he’s just doing his job.”

“That’s crap.”

“Put yourself in his position, Miles.”

“I don’t want to put myself in his position. I want Otis charged with murder.”

“I know you’re upset—”

“I’m not upset, Charlie. I’m pissed off like you wouldn’t believe.” “I know you are, but this isn’t the end. You’ve got to understand that even if we let Otis go, that doesn’t mean he won’t be charged in the future. It just means that we don’t have enough to hold him now. And you should also know the highway patrol is reopening the investigation. This isn’t over yet.” Miles glared. “But until then, Otis is free to go.”

“He’d be free on bail, anyway. Even if we did charge him with hit-and-run, he’d walk out of here. You know that.”

“Then charge him with murder.”

“Without Sims? Without other evidence? There’s no way that would fly.” There were times when Miles despised the criminal justice system. His eyes darted around the room before settling on Charlie again.  “Did you talk to Otis?” he finally asked.

“Tried to this morning. His lawyer was there and advised him not to answer most of my questions. Didn’t get any information that would help.” “Would it help if I tried to talk to him?”

Charlie shook his head. “There’s no chance of that, Miles.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t allow that.”

“Because it’s about Missy?”

“No, because of the stunt you pulled yesterday.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Charlie stared at Miles, watching for his reaction. Miles seemed to have none, and Charlie got up from behind the desk.

“Let me be frank, okay? Even though Otis wouldn’t answer any questions about Missy, he did volunteer information about your behavior yesterday. So now I’m going to ask you about it.” He paused. “What happened in the car?” Miles shifted in his chair. “I saw a raccoon in the road and had to hit the brakes.”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe that?”

Miles shrugged. “It’s what happened.”

“And if Otis tells me that you did it simply to hurt him?”

“Then he’s lying.”

Charlie leaned forward. “Is he also lying when he tells me that you pointed your gun at his head, even though he was on his knees with his hands up? And that you held it there?”

Miles squirmed uncomfortably. “I had to keep the situation under control,” he said evasively.

“And you think that was the way to go?”

“Look, Charlie, no one was hurt.”

“So in your mind, it was completely justified?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Otis’s lawyer didn’t think so. And neither did Clyde. They’re threatening to file a civil lawsuit against you.”

“A lawsuit?”

“Sure—excessive force, intimidation, police brutality, the whole works. Thurman has some friends at the ACLU and they’re thinking of joining the lawsuit as well.”

“But nothing happened!”

“It doesn’t matter, Miles. They have a right to file whatever they want. But you should know that they’ve also asked Harvey to file criminal charges.” “Criminal charges?”

“That’s what they say.”

“And let me guess—Harvey’s going to go along with that, right?” Charlie shook his head. “I know you and Harvey don’t get along, but I’ve worked with Harvey for years and I think he’s fair most of the time. He was pretty hot about the whole thing last night, but when we met this morning, he said he didn’t think he was going to go forward with it—” “So there’s no problem, then,” Miles interrupted.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Charlie said. He met Miles’s gaze. “Even though he may not go forward, that’s not set in stone. He knows how caught up you are in this, and even though he doesn’t think you had the right to let Sims go or take it on yourself to arrest Otis, he knows you’re human. He understands the way you felt, but that doesn’t change the fact that you acted inappropriately, to say the least. And because of that, he told me that he thinks it would be best if you’re placed on suspension—with pay, of course—until all this works itself out.”

Miles’s face registered disbelief. “Suspend me?”

“It’s for your own good. Once tempers cool down, Harvey thinks he can get Clyde and the lawyer to back off. But if we act as if we—or I—feel you did nothing whatsoever that was wrong, he isn’t so sure he’ll be able to talk Clyde out of it.”

“All I did was arrest the man who killed my wife.”

“You did a lot more than that, and you know it.”

“So you’re gonna do what he says?”

After a long moment, Charlie nodded. “I think he’s giving me good advice, Miles.

Like I said, it’s for your own good.”

“Let me get this straight. Otis goes free, even though he killed my wife. And I get booted from the force for bringing him in.”

“If that’s the way you want to look at it.”

“That’s how it is!”

Charlie shook his head, keeping his voice steady. “No, it’s not. And in a little while, when you’re not so wound up, you’ll see that. For now, though, you’re officially on suspension.”

“C’mon, Charlie—don’t do this.”

“It’s for the best. And whatever you do, don’t escalate the situation. If I find out you’re hassling Otis or snooping around where you shouldn’t, I’ll be forced to take further action and I won’t have the option of being so lenient.” “This is ridiculous!”

“It’s the way it is, my friend. I’m sorry.” Charlie began making his way to the chair on the other side. “But like I said, it’s not over. Once we find Sims and talk to him, we’ll look into his story. Maybe someone else heard something, and we might find someone to corroborate it—” Miles tossed his badge onto the desk before Charlie finished talking. His holster and gun were draped over the chair.

He slammed the door behind him.

Twenty minutes later, Otis Timson was released.

• • •

After storming out of Charlie’s office, Miles got into his car, his head spinning from the events of the past twenty-four hours. He turned the key, grinding the engine, and pulled away from the curb, accelerating hard and swinging into the other lane before righting the car.

Otis was going free while he was on suspension.

It made no sense at all. Somehow, the world had gone completely crazy.  He thought briefly about going home but decided against it, because Jonah—who was at Mrs. Knowlson’s—would come home if he did, and Miles knew he couldn’t face him right now. Not after what Jonah had said this morning. He needed time to calm down, to figure out what he was going to say first.  He needed to talk to someone, someone who would be able to help him make sense of all this.

The traffic clear, Miles made a U-turn and was on his way to find Sarah.