Page 95 of When The Noise Stops

Ronny stared at him.

"Has he talked to an attorney?"

Tiny shook his head.

"No. He's scared."

Tiny leaned forward.

"Every time a car pulls into the shop or the parking spot at the house, he looks up. Every time somebody knocks on his door, he thinks it's her. He's got Gabby back, but he's scared to do anything that'll piss Maggie off because she can come take her again."

My coffee didn't taste good anymore.

Ronny pulled out her phone.

"I know somebody. Family law. She's good. Really fucking good, and practices in Florida."

"Can she help him?"

"I don't know yet. I need details. Whatever orders came out of the divorce, what happened with the original custody case, what Maggie has or hasn't signed, where Gabby's legally residing—"

"English, Ronny," Tiny urged.

She rolled her eyes.

"I need to see his shit."

Ronny started making phone calls. I stared into my coffee.

I hadn't spoken to Knox in three months.

And now I was thinking about going home.

"I need to book us flights."

Tiny leaned back.

"You don't have to."

I frowned.

"Why?"

"I drove."

"You drove from Florida?"

"Yeah."

"Your bike?"

He shook his head.

"The RV."

I stared at him.

"My RV?"