Chapter 8: Behind Closed Doors
Jax didn't bother knocking on the door to room 14B. He simply gripped the brass handle, turned it firmly, and shoved the heavy oak door open with a dull thud that rattled the frosted glass pane. The office inside was small, stuffy, and cluttered with towering stacks of yellowed property deeds and filing cabinets that looked like they hadn't been moved in twenty years. Behind a scratched mahogany desk sat a thin, balding man in a rumpled gray suit who looked up in sheer panic as we walked uninvited into his private workspace.
Sitting across from him in metal folding chairs were two burly men in cheap suits who looked completely out of place in the county building. My mother was nowhere to be seen in the small room, but her worn leather purse sat abandoned on the edge of Henderson’s desk next to a signed financial release form. Arthur Henderson half-rose from his squeaky swivel chair, his face turning the pale color of spoiled milk as he stared up at Jax blocking the doorway.
“Jax… Miller,” Henderson sputtered, stammering over his words as he tried to adjust his crooked wire-rimmed glasses. “You can’t just barge in here. This is a private administrative consultation regarding delinquent municipal property leases.” Jax took two slow, deliberate steps into the room, his boots making a heavy, authoritative sound against the thin industrial carpet. He reached out and picked up my mother’s leather purse, checking the clasp before sliding it securely under his left arm.
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“Where is Sarah Jenkins, Henderson?” Jax asked, his voice deceptively quiet, carrying an intensity that made the two strange men in cheap suits slowly stand up from their folding chairs. Henderson’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he looked between Jax and the large, tattooed arms of the biker standing in his way.
“She signed the release, Jax,” Henderson stammered, holding up his hands defensively. “She settled the back taxes on the rental house by signing over the leasehold rights to these gentlemen here. She walked out the side exit toward the bus station five minutes ago. She said she couldn't face the boy knowing she’d lost the roof over his head.” Jax didn't waste another breath on the bureaucrat. He threw a single, contemptuous glare at the men in suits, grabbed my hand tightly in his warm, calloused grip, and turned us back toward the hallway.
