Chapter 10 - The Sheriff's Warning
Sheriff Tom Miller stood in the doorway, water dripping from the brim of his wide hat. He was a graying man with tired eyes and a badge that looked heavier than it was. He looked at Marcus, then down at Toby in the wheelchair, and finally at the open double doors behind him.
"Marcus Vance," Miller sighed, taking off his hat and slapping it against his thigh to knock off the rain. "I saw a couple of bikes leaving the rear lot, and Wade Miller's truck speeding south. Care to tell me what’s happening in my school after hours?"
"Just picking up my son, Sheriff," Marcus replied calmly, standing up. "Tyler had late practice. The weather got bad."
Miller’s gaze flicked to Toby, noticing the wet clothes, the foil blanket, and the sheer exhaustion etched into his pale features. "And who's this?"
"My other son. Toby," Marcus said. The words came without hesitation, solid and unyielding.
Miller paused, his brows furrowing. He had known the Vance family for thirty years. He knew the divorce, the distance, and the reputation Marcus had built across state lines. But he also knew the look of a father who was ready to kill or die for his own blood.
"There's been talk around town, Marcus," Miller said slowly, lowering his hand from his holster. "People say you're back for more than just family visits. They say your club is looking to buy the old warehouse down by the rail yard."
"Talk is cheap, Tom."
"Not in my county," Miller countered, taking a step forward, his voice dropping into a stern whisper. "You keep your club business off my streets. If Wade Miller and his ridge crew are causing trouble, that’s my jurisdiction. You go kicking down doors in this town, Marcus, and I won't have a choice. I’ll put you in a cell myself."
"Wade won't be a problem," Marcus said evenly. "We handled it."
From down the hall, Tyler emerged from the locker room, his hair combed back with water, wearing an old gray school hoodie. He walked with his head down, clutching his gym bag against his chest like a shield.
"Everything alright, Tyler?" Sheriff Miller asked, his eyes scanning the teenager. "Look a little pale."
Tyler stopped beside his father. He glanced at Toby, then at Marcus, and finally looked the sheriff in the eye.
"Everything's fine, Sheriff," Tyler lied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just tired. Ready to go home."
May you like
Miller stared at the trio for several long seconds before nodding slowly. "Get along home then. All of you. And Marcus... I’m watching you."
The sheriff walked back out into the storm, leaving the three of them alone in the cavernous hallway.
