Chapter 7: Unannounced Inspection
Sarah Vance navigated the grease-slicked concrete floor of the repair shop with a practiced wariness, stepping carefully around a spilled puddle of synthetic oil. Hank stood a few paces away, wiping his greasy hands on a dirty shop towel and casting nervous glances toward the corporate caseworker, clearly uncomfortable having official government presence inside his sanctuary of internal combustion.
Jax descended the metal stairs two at a time, his boots clanging loudly against the rungs. He reached the bottom floor and intercepted Sarah before she could start climbing up to the loft apartment.
“Ms. Vance,” Jax said, keeping his voice even. “Didn’t expect an unannounced house call tonight. We just got settled.”
Sarah adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses, her sharp eyes scanning the organized chaos of the garage before fixing squarely on Jax. “That’s precisely why I’m here, Mr. Brooks. Forty-eight hours of emergency placement doesn’t mean I take a coffee break. I like to see how my cases adapt to their environment in real time, without a rehearsed audience.”
Jax didn't flinch under her scrutiny. He gestured toward the clean-swept staircase behind him. “The loft is clean. It’s warm, the lock works, and there’s running water. Leo is upstairs right now unpacking the few things he has.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow, stepping past him toward the stairs. “Mind if I take a look for myself?”
“Be my guest,” Jax replied, turning to lead the way back up.
When they entered the small loft, Sarah’s eyes swept the room with clinical efficiency. She noted the single cot, the clean linen, the lack of exposed electrical wires, and the small stash of groceries Jax had managed to pull from the local bodega down the street. Her gaze then drifted to Leo, who sat quietly on the edge of the mattress, still wearing Jax’s oversized leather vest. The boy didn't cower or look away; he met the caseworker’s intense gaze with the exact same quiet, hopeful hazel eyes he had fixed on Jax in the restaurant.
Sarah’s stern expression softened by a fraction of a degree. She walked over to the small table where Leo’s colored drawing lay beside the folded note from Clara. She didn’t touch the note, respecting the invisible boundary of privacy it demanded, but she read the boy’s crude drawing of a motorcycle with two figures riding side by side.
“You’re a quiet kid, aren’t you, Leo?” Sarah asked gently, crouching down slightly to be closer to his eye level.
“Yes, ma’am,” Leo answered softly.
“Do you feel safe here?” she pressed, her tone probing for any hint of coercion or fear.
Leo looked past Sarah, his gaze landing squarely on Jax, who stood leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, watching them with bated breath. The boy turned back to the caseworker and gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Yes, ma’am. He has my dad’s watch.”
Sarah stood back up, smoothing the front of her gray skirt. She turned to Jax, her professional mask sliding back into place, though the harsh edge had undeniably melted away. “All right, Mr. Brooks. You pass the first hurdle. But tomorrow morning at nine sharp, we go down to family court. You need to file formal intent for temporary custody, and we need to schedule a background interview with a court-appointed psychologist. No shortcuts.”
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Jax exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He nodded firmly. “Understood. We’ll be there.”
***
