“Am I going to jail?” the girl whispered, shooting a fearful glance at Miles, who’d remained in the doorway, letting Tabitha take the lead, a broad-shoulder sentinel keeping the people he was tasked to protect safe.

“You’re not going to jail,” Tabitha said. “And no one here is going to hurt you or force you to do anything you don’t want to do, like see a doctor.”

“So I can go?” the girl muttered as she scooted toward the edge of the bed. “If I’m not gonna be arrested?”

“You’re not going to be put under arrest,” Tabitha said, needing the girl to feel safe with them. As safe as she could, anyway. “And you can absolutely leave—”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Miles take a small step forward, mouth open, ready to contradict her, but she sent him her own glance and a quick, furtive shake of her head.

He stopped. Shut his mouth.

Trusting her on this at least.

“But we can’t let you go on your own. Why don’t you give us your address, and Assistant Chief Jennings and I can make sure you get home safely.”

The girl froze, her dark eyes wide and panicked. “I live far away,” she blurted, sounding terrified and desperately young. “Far, far away. Too far for you to drive me.”

“Okay. Well, why don’t you give us your parents’ phone number then? We’ll call them to come get you.”

The girl lowered her head, but not before Tabitha saw a flash of pain and grief in her eyes. “My dad’s dead.”

“What about your mom?”

“No!” she blurted. “Don’t call my mom. Please don’t call her.”

“Why don’t you want us to call her?”

Some runaways worried their parents would be ashamed of them and the things they’d done to survive. Others thought they’d be angry with them. That they wouldn’t forgive them.

For others, though, it was safer on the streets away from their parents.

The girl started crying but didn’t answer.

“Does your mother know where you are?”

She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve, then stared down at her hands linked together in her lap. “She won’t care,” she said dully.

“Why do you say that?”

The girl shook her head.

“Ms. Ewings,” Miles said from his spot in the doorway. “A word, please.”

No matter that he’d added that please, what should have been a polite request, instead came out a gruff, impatient command.

It was that authoritative tone he used. As if he was used to not only being in charge, but also being obeyed quickly and without question.

When he’d used that tone on her that night at his house, she’d been all for it.

When she was doing her job and he was about to possibly get in her way? Not for it. Not at all.

“Excuse me,” Tabitha murmured to the girl, then crossed to the scowling man in the doorway. “Yes, Assistant Chief Jennings?”

He stepped out onto the sidewalk, jerking his head in a way she surmised meant he wanted her to trot along after him. Raising her eyebrows, she did so because she was a professional and there was nothing more important to her at this moment than doing whatever she could to help that girl.

“This isn’t getting anywhere,” he said quietly. “Let’s take her to the station and go from there.”

They could. And Tabitha understood why he’d want to go that route. At the station the girl could get cleaned up, change into clean clothes, and get something to eat.