Tiny Tim

Chapter 12

The second December week started with me making plans. I had already finished all the online assignments the school had made available to me, and I doubted there would be many more before Christmas break, so I was free until I had to go back to school in January. Thinking about my online assignments gave me my first idea.

While I was pretty certain that my job with Bill was secure, my responsibilities had changed so much during the last year, I couldn’t just assume they wouldn’t change or expand again. What if Bill needed something done that I didn’t happen to already be experienced in? My job wouldn’t be as secure anymore if he had to hire someone more experienced and more knowledgeable. And while I still had considerable savings (for a seventeen year old), paying six months’ rent in advance, and another three months’ rent as security deposit, cost me a sizable chunk of it! Not to mention the ten grand Claire had taken.

Maybe it was time to finally get those standard certifications IT-workers needed. A quick internet search told me that I could get all of those from the local community college. Since there were no actual degrees attached, most certifications required just five to eight days of lectures before I could take the exams. I would need to check if I could somehow work this into my school and work schedule.

Next on the agenda was the state of my home. With my family finally off my back, and my injuries healing, I wanted to turn my apartment into something that I could actually live in, instead of just existing in it. Which turned out to be surprisingly hard to start on. I had given up on all my hobbies, had no extracurricular activities aside from work, and really didn’t know what to do about it. After I got out of work the next day, I visited a copy shop to print out the selfies from my old phone, and completed the collection of photos showing me with Tess. I hung them in the living room above the sofa as a first step to decorate my home.

Apart from that, though, I couldn’t even decide whether I should turn the second bedroom into an office or a guest room. While I would like to have a place for friends to stay over, I didn’t have any friends to stay over. The only one even close to that was Paul, and he lived just two floors above me. While I would’ve liked to have an office, I didn’t really need one with all that cash lying around. I didn’t need to pick up any more programming work on the side, and had already placed my desk and computer in my bedroom.

I searched online for decoration ideas, and found quite a few I liked. Then I made lists of what I needed to buy. I had to wait until I was sure the family wouldn’t actually call the police, since my confidence of them not being able to drag me home had drastically dwindled the longer I thought about it. Being more or less safe at seventeen was just something I had read on the internet, and I didn’t want to invest any more money just to then be forced to leave it all behind. After what happened at the house, and the last few comments Grandpa made, I wouldn’t put it past them to actually call the police and claim I sell drugs or something, proven by a mountain of cash the police should be able to find on me.

Naturally, my motivation to talk to them was appropriately low. I did, however, talk to Danielle almost daily. I thought she was genuinely trying to help me, and each conversation ended with her apologizing for the clusterfuck that was supposed to be the start of our family’s healing process. She also kept inquiring about my nightly disturbances, which made me start to wish I had allowed myself to speak with her much earlier. While I still woke up most nights, the breathing exercise she showed me helped a lot, and I thanked her for her support.

She also helped me make plans for getting my life back on a healthy track, suggesting activities to try out and how to explore new hobbies. I refrained from reminding her of my work schedule, and how I wouldn’t be able to do any of what she suggested once I had to go back to school. She also couldn’t help me with finding new friends, since I spent almost all of my time with work and the people from work, and still didn’t feel like I could just walk up to people in school to start conversations. She wasn’t too happy about me exclusively hanging out with people way older than myself, but she refrained from criticizing it. She did, however, encourage me to start the renovation of my apartment, assuring me there would be no danger of the police suddenly showing up.

So, remembering I enjoyed gaming in the past, I went out and drove to multiple stores to spread out the cash usage, buying a big screen TV, a PlayStation, XBox, Switch, and Steam Link. On a whim, I even picked up a cheap 3D printer that only cost three-hundred dollars, but I would have to assemble it myself. Armed with all that, I got back home and set my living room up as some kind of gaming center. Then something quite unexpected happened.

When I saw the cable clutter, I drove out to Home Depot and bought a whole bunch of adhesive cable ducts and a miter saw. I cut them to length and in angles, organized the cables around the TV, and was suddenly taken aback when I noticed the wall resembling something akin to a circuit board with the TV in the position of the main processor. I liked it. A lot.

So, I took the whole ensemble down again, went back to Home Depot, and got a bunch of wall mount holders for the wireless headset and controllers. I hung them together with the internet router to the wall around the TV, and reworked the cable management in an actual circuit pattern. I realized that working with my hands was fun as hell! I fiddled around with the ideas and, before I even knew it, it was pitch dark outside.

The next day, I drove to Home Depot yet again and bought myself everything a post in the DIY subreddit listed as essential. Then I got to work on my first new hobby in years: Renovating.

First, I switched rooms. The apartment had two bathrooms, one of which was only accessible through one of the bedrooms, so I decided that should be the guest bedroom. l left the bed and desk I already had in there, got rid of all the dead plants, painted the room light gray, and put its own TV in. Then, for my own bedroom, I got a king size bed, built a work desk spanning the whole opposing wall, and finally furnished both bedrooms with a bunch of cabinets I assembled without any help. If I ever wanted a roommate or something, he would be ready to move in immediately. I even stored prepackaged convenience kits in the guest bathroom.

I hung new lamps and placed a few small carpets across the apartment, put Qi-chargers with separate USB ports into the nightstands next to the beds, and fitted shelves for the walk-in closets in the bedrooms. It was quite satisfying when they didn’t come down after I put something on them, and had only drilled into my leg once, when I had the board on my lap and wasn’t prepared for the sudden lack of resistance after the drill had passed through it. At least that finally got me to put together a home remedy kit.

By the end of the week, my bank account had lost twenty percent of its volume, but I had the whole apartment fully furnished, decorated, and even laid out a few subtle LED-Strips I could control with my phone. I realized how happy all this made me. I couldn’t even count how many times I just stood in a room and beheld my work. All of this was my very own achievement. And even if all of the furniture had glossy surfaces in either black, white, or gray, I liked the modern style a lot. All the furniture I ever had in my old room was thrown together without any concept and handed down by the others. Now the entire apartment fit together, and I was dumbstruck at how much of a difference it made! I was actually, totally, and fully content with my new life away from the family in my own home!

As soon as I was done, I knocked on Paul’s door and invited him over to show off, and try out a few of the console games. I think he could somehow feel how big of a thing that was for me, so he just let me drone on about what I did myself with a slight grin on his face.

And just for the record, I didn’t even think about having a drink during the whole week. I did have beer in the fridge, but I only touched those when I had company over. Danielle was quite happy to hear that. The entire week, the rest of the family didn’t even try to contact me once.

On Monday, I bought a box of chocolates and went into Bill’s office to present them to him. He looked at them with a stoic face, before looking me dead in the eyes.

“I’m charmed, Kid. But you know I’m happily married.” he said dryly.

“They’re for your wife!”

“Well, I can ask her, but I think you’re a little young for her. She’d eat you up, Kid.” His eyebrows had ridden up his forehead, but I could see he was trying hard to suppress his laughter when seeing my reaction.

“Are you serious!? I wanted to thank her for gathering all those photos of me and Tess. I read online that this would be appropriate and...” I replied, desperate to explain myself.

“Relax, Kid!” he interrupted me, now visibly amused about how easily he got me rattled. “I’m just messing with you. She’ll love them.”

“Well ... Alright. I also wanted to ask for a favor.”

“What do you need?”

“I told the family I’d get a surveillance system for their and John’s house. I’ll pay for it! But I really don’t wanna install them myself. Could you send someone else?”

“There a professional reason for it or something private?”

“Private.” I replied after a short moment of hesitation.

“Alright.” he said, immediately accepting my request. “But only you and Chris are already familiar with the new system, and Chris is accompanying me today. If I send him to your house, you’ll have to switch with him.”

“That won’t be a problem, Boss. What kind of client? Do I need to go and get changed?”

“Yeah. You’ll probably need to go shopping, actually. Suit. Nothing fancy or too expensive, but this is a high profile client, and your current suit doesn’t sit right with the growth rate you’re displaying. Can you take care of it before this afternoon?”

“I think so. I’ll go right now and call you in about an hour?”

He agreed and I grabbed a handful of money from the safe before I jumped into my Jeep. The surveillance system for the houses had been plaguing me for the whole weekend. I had totally forgotten about it while I was engrossed in the renovation and decorations, but now that it was done, it weighed heavily on me. Whenever I thought about going back and meeting them again, I got this weird feeling in my gut that borderlined on nausea, and my mood dropped significantly. I really didn’t want to meet with them just yet.

I drove to the same shop Tess had shown me a year ago, hoping I won’t pick something ridiculous without her help. But it turned out that slim fit suits were still readily available and the tailor could make the adjustments in two hours, since he only had to slim the waists in the jackets and vests. I confirmed with Bill and, around Two PM, made my way back to the office armed with my laptop.

“So, where to, Boss?” I asked Bill.

“You’ll drive with Paul.” he answered, handing me the keys for one of the armored SUVs I hadn’t got to drive since he helped me with my license, and one of the surface tablets we used so the clients could see how professional we looked. “He’ll fill you in on the way. Just follow us.”

It was a half hour drive until we arrived in Memorial Village at around three PM. We parked in front of a house that looked like it would easily cost two or three million dollars if I wanted to buy it. I hated properties like those. The owners always insisted on installing IoT-shit, like door locks that automatically disengaged when the homeowner’s mobile connected via Bluetooth or, even worse, to the WiFi. Or Amazon’s Ring doorbells, even after those were big in the news for being hacked and turned into publicly accessible cameras. All that stuff was basically made to give comfort while only providing the illusion of security, and explaining that to the clients was always a massive pain in the ass. Even the old anecdote about the neighbor screaming at Alexa to open the garage door, so he could borrow some tools, rarely helped.

The client was a Mr. Miller, the husband of a former model turned ‘actress’. They were scared about a stalker that had already attempted to get into the building, but still couldn’t be identified. They both had seen him but weren’t successful in putting a name to the face. Maybe, I thought, this would make the discussion about actual security easier.

While Bill and his second in command rang the doorbell, Paul and I had already started walking around the perimeter with our tablets to work out the best angles for the new cameras, flood lights, and how to lay out the cable work. Then we joined Bill, and I had to instantly reassess my opinion of the woman who called us.

After hearing her career details from Paul, I had created the mental image of a woman clinging to former glory and, maybe, just looking for attention. But, while she was still quite the looker, it was the mixture of desperation and genuine fear in her face that made me instantly take this more seriously. I made a mental note to stop thinking in clichés, and reminded myself that most people who call Bill have a genuine reason to do so.

I shared our notes and ideas for the system’s setup with Bill’s tablet, and listened to their conversation while keeping to the background myself. I still noticed how Mrs. Miller gave me doubtful looks as Bill went over the notes.

“You don’t have any kind of surveillance active at the moment?” Bill asked in an astounded voice, after noticing that point in our annotations.

“No. There is very good security around here.” Mr. Miller answered. “Patrol cars arrive within two minutes of a call. We didn’t think we’d need it. We have an alarm system, of course, and motion activated lights in the driveway and porch ... but that’s it.”

“Yes, I see those listed. We can have the camera system and a few extra flood lights for the rest of the property installed by tomorrow. How about additional security? Have you heard back from the police yet?”

“No.” Mrs. Miller’s exasperated voice answered. “We couldn’t give them any pictures, and I didn’t recognize any of the photos they showed me. There was nothing they could do except send additional patrol cars into the area for a few days.”

“Wait! They...” I started confused, but held my words to first look at Bill, seeking permission to speak. I wasn’t in any way experienced in actual dealings with clients that weren’t about camera angles and Servers. When Bill nodded, I continued. “Did they actually tell you there was nothing else they could do?”

Mr. and Mrs. Miller exchanged a look before she answered.

“Yes. That’s why we called you.”

I walked over to Bill and whispered my idea to him. I couldn’t do it without his approval, since, if this worked, there was the possibility they wouldn’t need our surveillance system anymore. When he nodded, I spoke again.

“Do you have the exact date and time of his attempt to enter the house?” I asked, and Mrs. Miller scribbled it down on a little piece of paper. “Can you show me where he tried to enter?”

After exchanging another insecure look with her husband, she walked me to the huge patio door in the living room. Her husband and the others stayed seated at the big table in the dining area, so Bill could work out his proposal. Then she watched me as I got to work.

I pulled out my phone, opened the app to get information about the nearest cell towers, and made sure I was connected to the one with the strongest signal at that position. Then I opened a WiFi-hotspot on my phone for my laptop, and traced the packet route through the mobile network. I had ... heard ... that it was possible to gain remote access over a cell tower, and complete control over its Base Transceiver Station, if you bombarded its UDP service-ports with empty packets. You just needed to know how to reach those service ports. To my great relief, it worked perfectly and, after retrieving the access logs from the BTS, I moved back into the living room to sit on the sofa. As Mrs. Miller watched my fingers dance over the laptop’s keyboard to apply the filters to the log files, and the texts of my command prompt scroll over the display, she started talking to me.

“So ... no offense, but aren’t you a little young to work security? Are you an intern?” she asked while trying not to sound offending, causing me to chuckle.

“No, Ma’am. You’re right about me being young, but I’ve been working with Carter Security for two years now. I do the IT stuff, like writing security guidelines, setting up servers, and checking out new camera systems.”

“How old are you then?”

“Seventeen, Ma’am.”

She looked at me with surprise. “Seventeen! You’re a year younger than my youngest, and already doing that kind of work for two years!?”

I shrugged my shoulders, not eager to discuss my private life with a total stranger, before I answered. “The pay is good and the Job is fun. So why not?”

“Huh. I wish my Jacky would’ve been so assiduous when he was your age.” she mused.

My fingers stopped moving and I looked at her startled. Mrs. Miller had a child she called Jacky. Maybe a son by the name of Jack Miller?

“You don’t happen to also have a daughter called Mia?” I asked carefully.

“My, yes, I do! You know her?” she answered cheerfully.

I was in Jack and Mia Miller’s home. My old bully, whom I publicly knocked out in sophomore year, and his sister, the second in line to the position of queen bitch after Ava.

“We go to Western High together. She’s friends with my sister, Ava.” I sighed while getting back to work, praying to get this done and out of the house before either of her children came back from school.

“Oh, Ava!” she said joyfully. “Such a lovely girl! And so diligent in her Cheer practice! But, if you go to the same school as my daughter, shouldn’t you be in school right now?” she suddenly asked with a disapproving look

“I’m taking online classes for now. I was stabbed a few weeks ago and I’m still recuperating.” I answered casually.

She blinked at me dumbfounded for a few seconds, then looked at the laptop screen and started screaming.

“THAT’S HIM! GEORGE! COME HERE!”

I had actually pulled away from her, startled by her sudden outburst, when Bill and the others came running in.

“Where?” Bill shouted, thinking she had seen him on the property, but she was pointing at my laptop screen.

“There! He found him! That’s definitely him! I’m one hundred percent sure! Look!”

“Yeah, that’s him alright!” Mr. Miller said, astonished, after walking around the table and looking at the screen himself. “How the hell did you do that? You were gone for less than fifteen minutes!”

“Well...” I said, looking at Bill again, hoping to get some sign of encouragement. But he was just grinning at me with a somewhat thoughtful expression. I decided to just tell it how it was. “I pulled the connection logs from the mobile tower, ran them through a script to filter out all the frequent connections indicating residency, and then ran them through the script again to filter out all the short-term connections of only a few minutes indicating deliveries, garbage disposal ... stuff like that. For the time and date Mrs. Miller provided, there were only two phone numbers left after the script finished its second run. I put both numbers through an online search. One number was a plumber’s, and the other one was this guy’s. The search pointed me to his Facebook profile, which ... you see on my screen right now.”

“Well, I was told you were good, Mr. Carter, but this is impressive!” Mr. Miller said to Bill, causing me to smirk about the prospect of getting a nice bonus. That is, until Bill spoke.

“You pulled something from the mobile tower?” Bill asked, and I nodded. Then he gave me a meaningful look before he spoke again. “Can we tell that to the police when we show them the profile?”

“These logs are ... not exactly publicly accessible.” While I had answered Bill’s question, Mr. and Mrs. Miller were scrolling through the guy’s profile. “Do you know him?”

“No. I have no idea who that is.” Mrs. Miller answered, while her husband just shook his head that he didn’t know him either. “James Campbell ... That name doesn’t even sound familiar.”

“Well, just tell the police you stumbled across his profile when Facebook suggested it as a potential friend.”

“I don’t care if you got that legitimately. I’m just happy you did. So, of course we can do that ... but is that plausible? What are the odds of that actually happening?” Mr. Miller asked.

“Facebook makes those suggestions based on many factors. There was a scandal in 2016, where it basically exposed a psychiatrist’s patients. Facebook’s algorithm suggested they befriend each other because their phones’ location data kept showing them all at the same psychiatrist’s office. So, it’s possible Facebook would suggest him as a friend because his phone’s location showed him at your house.” I explained, shrugging my shoulders.

“I have to tell you, however, experience taught me that the police probably won’t act on this.” Bill informed them. “Since you couldn’t identify the intruder before, they will consider the possibility of you just mistakenly pointing at someone that looks similar to whom you saw that night. And even if they check it out, as long as we don’t have admissible proof, that same argument weakens your stance in a word-against-word situation before a Judge.”

“Yes. I was afraid you would say that.” Mr. Miller announced. “That’s why I want you to get started on securing this house!”

“Then...” Bill responded. “ ... you need to decide what you want to achieve. Do you want the installations to be obvious and deter him from trying to break in again, or do you want us to secure the house, but make the surveillance hidden, so we can catch him in the act and gather proof?”

They thought about that for a while. Of course they didn’t want him to come back, but Bill must have already told them that, if someone had reached the point where they would try to enter someone’s house, they would also try to get to their target anywhere else.

“Secure the house and get proof. I want that man locked up!” Mrs. Miller announced with resolve in her voice.

Just at that moment, we heard the front door open and a myriad of girly voices travel down the hallway. Suddenly half the damn Cheer team burst into the living room, happily chatting away before stopping when they saw all of us. Of course Ava was included in the mix. When she saw me, she didn’t attempt to greet me, instead she just stared at me with an unreadable poker face.

“Oh, Honey! Welcome home!” Mrs. Miller said, embracing her daughter in a hug. “These men are from Carter Security. We finally know who that man is!”

“You do!? Finally!” Mia screamed relieved, getting happy cheers from her girlfriends. Apparently, that stalker-situation was common knowledge amongst them.

“Yes!” Mrs. Miller continued, before turning to Ava. “Ava, sweetheart, your brother is just amazing! Even the police couldn’t do anything for us, but it took him all but ten minutes to identify that man!”

“Oh.” Ava responded with a weak but polite smile, her eyes darting between me, Mrs. Miller, and her friends. “He ... has his moments.”

And there it was. Last time Ava and I had seen each other, I asked her how long her good will to include me in her life would last. I got my answer at that moment. Apparently, it would last right up until she had to risk her image by acknowledging her little brother in front of her friends.

“Wait! What’s Tiny Tim doing here!?” Mia asked dripping with contempt, not believing her eyes, as the rest of the girls gave me equally disapproving looks. I noted Ava not even batting an eye upon hearing her friend calling me that name.

“Mia! Didn’t you hear what your mother just said?” Mr. Miller scolded her.

“Yeah, sure I did. But he’s also the one who beat up Jacky last year! And half our football team, costing us the season!” Mia protested, earning herself confirming nods all around her co-cheerleaders. Again, including Ava.

Upon hearing this, Bill leaned over to me with a questioning look.

“Remember the video I showed you all from one of my school bullies?” I whispered back to him while pulling out my phone, causing him to sigh and nod. “I think that’s his parents.”

“Maybe it would be better if you drive back to the office ahead of us. We’ll...” he started, but Mr. Miller had a different idea.

“Is that true? That was you?” he asked me angrily.

I had already found what I was looking for on my phone.

“Yes, Sir. Though it was self defense.” I said, as I started the video Craig had sent me of the fight, and held it out to Mr. and Mrs. Miller.

Their expressions were reluctant as they started watching, but as they saw their son and his friend corner Jenny, despite her telling them off repeatedly, their expressions changed significantly. By the time the video showed their son throwing me into the locker and preparing to hit me, after I had done absolutely nothing to even alert him of my presence, much less provoke him in any way apart from just existing in his closer vicinity, their looks had gotten quite disappointed.

“Ouh!” was Mr. Miller’s only grunted comment when he saw my elbow connect with his son’s jaw. I had feared they would get angry upon seeing something like that, and was fully prepared to remove myself from this job, but it seemed, since they knew nothing serious happened to him, the other things they had just learned about their son outweighed parental worry.

“Well, we ... we’ll talk about this.” Mr. Miller started embarrassed. “But right now, I hope this won’t have an influence on this job? I need my family to be safe!”

“That won’t be a problem!” Bill assured him, visibly relieved about not losing a wealthy client. “Then there is another topic we need to discuss. We need to consider the possibility that this man might try to use your daughter to get to you. We only thought about Mrs. Miller’s security until now, because she was the recipient of his letters. But if he reached the point to try and enter your house, that could indicate desperation. I’d like to suggest that we make Mr. Brown here into Mia’s chauffeur for the time being.”

I felt my heart drop as my whole body tensed up. I couldn’t really blame him for wanting to please a well paying client. But throwing me under the bus to please them!? Couldn’t he have asked me beforehand?

“Him? Mr. Carter, he’s younger than my daughter! He seems to be good at technical things, but can he provide actual security for her?” Mr. Miller asked, eyeing me up and down.

I noticed an evil grin spread across Mia’s face, obviously imagining me being some kind of servant to her.

“He wouldn’t work for me if he couldn’t, Mr. Miller. And since he and your daughter visit the same school, he would have a significant advantage over anyone else I could appoint for this position.”

“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Miller called out. “He could keep an eye on her even inside the building!”

Mr. Miller contemplated his options, as he looked between his Wife and Bill.

“Well, Munchkin, what do you say? Would you be Okay with him?”

“Sure, Daddy.” his daughter answered sweetly, her voice suddenly two octaves higher than before, but the glint in her eyes told me she had already planned to use this for her own entertainment.

“Alright. We’ll be here tomorrow morning to start installing the hardware and pick her up.” Bill announced, so I grabbed my laptop and we made our way outside.

“Tim! You’ll drive with me this time.” Bill announced.

“Boss, I’m really sorry!” I told him, fearing for my job, as we finally sat in the car.

“What for?” he sounded genuinely surprised.

“I should’ve come to you and excused myself as soon as I realized they could be Jack’s parents. I knew if their kids came home and told their parents about me, it would mean trouble. I just wasn’t done running the scripts yet, and by the time we finally had the results, they already stood in the living...”

“Kid!” he interrupted me. “Listen, I admit, when I suggested you leave, it was to save the contract. And my reputation. But don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t have blamed you for it even if it hadn’t worked out. All of us know that you have nothing to apologize for when it comes to stopping the guys who harassed you in school! None of us would ever buy that crap about you just running around, beating up other students for no damn reason! In fact, when that girl said you beat up half their football team and I leaned into you, I wanted to know if you beat them up all at once or in succession.” He laughed by the end.

“Then making me Mia’s chauffeur isn’t your way of punishing me?” I asked skeptically.

“Kid, I did you a favor there.” he laughed, but realized he had to elaborate. “Look. Her parents are paying us to keep them all safe. That comes with a certain set of privileges, and a certain degree of authority.”

“Fine.” I answered after mulling it over. “But I’m warning you upfront ... she’s bound to complain, no matter how considerate I behave.”

“All the spoiled little shits do when you restrict their freedom. Now we gotta talk about the job. I should’ve thought about you probably being able to help after what you did in Austin. So ... is there anything else you could do to help? He was almost caught once. I don’t think it’ll stop him from trying again, but he’ll probably wear a mask next time, so the cameras might not be enough. They agreed to have one of us in the house for the next few weeks, but after we fortify the building, it’ll take our guy a moment to get outside as well, and the perp could run. Any ideas on how we can gather extra evidence?”

I thought about that for a moment.

“Well, we know he carried his phone when he came here the last time and, since he won’t learn about my access to the mobile tower, he won’t have any reason to leave it at home the next time he tries. I could set up an IMSI-catcher, but that’s just as legally admissible as the phone logs I pulled from the cell tower ... We could just set up a public WiFi Access Point in the house that doesn’t actually allow access to the internet or their network, and reduce the transmission power so it won’t reach the fence. Most phones are set to automatically join any public WiFi in range to save on their data plans by default, so if he enters the property again, we’d have his phone’s MAC-Address documented in the log files of the router, and our Hotspot’s SSID in his phone’s network history.”

“Do we have everything you’d need for that?”

“Yeah. In my basement.” I referred to my office, since I was the only one working down there. “I could even set it up so it would send me a notification as soon as a new device connects. It would give us a short warning period before he reaches the door.”

“Prepare what you can today, and set it up in their house tomorrow morning before taking the girl to school. If I understood that right, you’d have the family’s and our own phones already connected while we make the installations, so they won’t cause false alarms in the evening.”

For someone who claimed not to understand anything about computers just two years ago, he grasped the concept surprisingly quickly! The rest of the drive was silent, until we reached the company parking lot. After we all got out of the cars, Bill handed me the keys.

“This is now officially your company car. Use it when she needs you to drive her around. Since that could be any time, just leave your Jeep here and drive home with this one. Also, drop by accounting to get a gas charge card before you leave. And now that you have that car...” he leaned in closer to me, so the others wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Buy a safe for your apartment and get that mountain of cash out of the office. While you watch the girl, we’ll use that opportunity to redo ‘Your basement’, as you keep calling it.”

“Nice!” I replied and got on my way, first stopping by accounting as asked to receive my card.

We had talked about the renovation of the server room many times. While it was my office, it was still an ordinary basement featuring unplastered walls, uninsulated pipes, cables openly running along the walls, and I didn’t even have proper power outlets. The only reason for my workspace being down there, was the server being down there as well. And the only reason the server was down there was the cooler temperatures. With any luck, the next time I’d go to the office, I’d have an actual office.

I picked up an old router I was planning to use for the public WiFi, but noticed the case was cracked. I was just looking online for a CAD file I could use with my 3D printer to replace the case with, when I checked my phone and noticed I had missed calls and a text from Danielle while I was at the Miller house.

The text only read “I’m sorry. I tried to talk them out of it”.

Whatever she meant, it sure sounded like I wouldn’t like it.

I got the cash from the safe into my sports bag, transferred my personal stuff from my Jeep into my new company car, and drove home. The car was a dream, though I was mighty uncomfortable driving it through narrow areas. It was a luxury SUV we used to chauffeur rich clients around, so not only did it handle like a go-kart despite being armored, it was also loaded with a shitload of gimmicks to make the driver’s life easier by entertaining the passengers. My big hope was that Mia would be making good use of either the TV or the champagne cooler, and won’t feel the need to talk to me.

As soon as I neared the gate enclosing my apartment complex, I saw a woman holding a briefcase, seemingly waiting for someone at the entrance. When I stopped the car to open the gate, she suddenly approached me.

“Timothy Brown?” she asked in an inquiring tone.

“Are you about to hand me a manilla folder with divorce papers and say ‘You have been served’?” I asked, after nodding to confirm I was who she thought I was.

“Oh, no!” she said, smiling brightly in amusement, placing her briefcase on the ground and extending her hand for a greeting. “My name is Nataly Potts. I’m a social worker with Family and Protective Services. Your grandparents called us because they are concerned about your living conditions.”

I had attempted to shake her hand, but as she said she came from Family and Protective Services, I paused.

“You’re joking!” I said.

“I’m afraid not. I hope you could spare a little time, so we could talk?”

“Uh ... sure. I just have to park the car first.”

I didn’t know what would happen if I just refused her. I had somewhat expected the family to maybe try calling the police, but a social worker!? While the police wouldn’t force me home as long as I was doing Okay, they certainly would act if this woman called them. I finally opened the gate, parked the car, and escorted her to the entrance.

“That is a nice car! Is that yours?” she asked.

“God, no! I drive a nearly twenty years old Jeep Wrangler. This here is an armored Range Rover Velar SVA with 600 horsepowers and a shitload of little gimmicks to entertain the VIPs we drive around in them. That car cost roundabout 280,000 dollars.” I explained. “I have savings, but not that kind of savings. It’s a company car.”

“The company you work for lets you drive around in a $280,000 dollar car?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I got a specialized training course on how to handle them. And our newest client is a classmate of mine, so, from tomorrow onwards, I’ll have the honor to drive her to and from school. Honestly, I’d never pay that much for a car, even if I won the lottery. The entire drive home I was worried I’d scratch the fender, and then have to sell a kidney to pay for the new paint job.”

“Yeah, I think I would as well.” she laughed.

When we reached my apartment and I opened the door, she immediately started scanning the living room. She didn’t even do it slyly or in any way trying to hide it, she actually seemed irritated and kept checking something on a clipboard.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Well ... to be perfectly honest with you ... this does not look at all like what I was told to expect.” she carefully answered.

“What were you told to expect?” I asked, hanging my suit jacket over a chair at my small dining table.

“Your grandparents claimed you were basically squatting here. They mentioned a bed and a desk in an otherwise completely vacant apartment. But not only is this fully furnished, you even have decorations up! Where did all this come from?”

“Ikea, mostly?” I answered honestly, not really understanding what her questions meant.

“You got all this yourself?”

“Of course! Does this look like I just carried discarded stuff from the roadside in here? I got it all from Ikea and Home Depot. A friend helped me transport most of it with his truck and assemble the bigger things, but the rest is all me. I even made some of it myself. Like the shelves in the Walk-Ins, or the nightstands.” I explained proudly, causing her to just nod and accept it for now. Not really knowing what else to do, I thought about how to break the silence. “Can I offer you something to drink, maybe? Water? Coffee?”

“Oh, Coffee would be lovely!” she answered, so I waved at her to follow me into the kitchen, suspecting she’d like a chance to look inside it.

Feeling my suspicions confirmed when I saw her take a quick look into my fridge after I got some milk out of it, I pointed at the coffee maker and asked her to choose a capsule. After she chose one, we went back into the living room where she sat on the sofa and pointed at the cable management.

“That looks cool! Did you do that too?”

“Yeah. That actually started me on the whole decoration and renovation thing. I just wanted the cables to not get in the way, but when I had that done, it was kinda fun!” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “So after that, I got the LED-Strips working, new lights, fitting carpets ... followed the theme, you know. My buddy said it looks sterile, but I like it.”

“Could I look around a bit? You can tell me what you did yourself.” she said with a disarming smile, trying to seem as casual as possible about it. I suspected she needed to look around for syringes and empty whisky bottles, so I didn’t put up a fight. I was just damn glad I had cleaned the whole place the day before, after I had completely finished with the renovation, and silently vowed to keep my apartment tidied up for future unannounced visitors. “Wasn’t buying furniture for the whole apartment expensive?”

“Oh yes, quite expensive. But I’ve been working since I was fifteen and never had a chance to spend much of it. So, I had more than enough to make this look exactly how I wanted.” I explained.

I noticed I was so nervous, I just blabbered and told her whatever came to my mind when she asked a question. I would have to be careful when she asked about money, since I paid for some of this in cash.

“You like the job?” she asked casually.

“Yeah. It pays well, the people are nice, I learn a lot ... I really have nothing to complain about.”

“Pays well?”

“About thirty-seven hundred a month. Before taxes.”

She started scribbling things on her clipboard now.

“And you live alone?”

“Yes.”

“That your girlfriend?” she asked, pointing at the photos above the sofa. “Does she come by sometimes?”

“No.”

“Not your girlfriend or not coming over sometimes?” she grinned. “Don’t worry, you’re old enough to have relationships.”

“She was my girlfriend.” I sighed, looking at the photos of me and Tess. “She died almost three months ago. I take it my grandparents didn’t tell you about that either?”

“No ... I’m really sorry to hear that, Timothy.” she sounded sincere.

“Alright. Wait here.” I said, figuring the casual pretense for her visit was over anyway, before walking into my bedroom and getting copies of some relevant documents. I resumed talking when I held it all out to her. “Here’s a copy of my employment contract. You’ll see I make enough to not have to squat in someone else’s property. I didn’t get a report card that would reflect if or how the move affected my grades yet, but I’m a solid student. I never got A’s, but I’m not stupid either. And finally, here you have a copy of my lease and bank statements of the rent transfers.”

“Oh! Thank you, that makes this a lot easier.” she complimented my thinking ahead.

“Here’s the deal. Over the last year, I spent months in my girlfriend’s apartment, and the family didn’t even notice I was gone. So, after she ... I got this place and lived here for a full week before the grandparents came to visit and asked where I was. Only then did they notice that my room was empty, and started to look for me. I’m just better here than in the house they don’t even want me in.”

“I ... also wasn’t aware of that.” she just said.

“I started working at fifteen to pay for my school textbooks. Not because the parents had money issues, but because they simply refused to pay for them. And once I had money, I had to buy my own food to cook for myself, do my own laundry, organize my own transportation, and all that while paying rent to them. The only thing that changed for me after I moved here on my own, is the amount of rent I have to pay. Talk to my boss, if you have to, I’ll tell him that he can disclose my information. He’ll tell you how he was the one who had to help me get over the bullies my siblings had set on me, after the parents couldn’t even be bothered to call the school about it. I’m not going back to live with the people who didn’t care about me. Same goes for the oh so concerned grandparents that called you. They knew what was going on in that house, but never gave a shit about me until they recently found out that I have money.”

She was eagerly scrabbling on her clipboard again, her brows frowned, and mumbling something that sounded heated under her breath.

“Now,” I continued. “You can see that I’m not squatting like they claimed. There’s actual food in the fridge, no drugs lying around, I earn a steady income that is more than enough to support myself, and I’m six months ahead on rent. I’m good. So, if you have what you need, I gotta prepare something for work tomorrow.”

“Work? Not school?” she asked, after thinking for a few seconds.

“I’m still off sick for another week.” She just looked at me quizzaly. I pulled up my shirt, so she could see the obvious evidence. “I was stabbed in a parking lot a few weeks ago. Same guy came after me again last week, after the police let him go and never told me about it. Going to be a few more weeks before I’m fully recovered. Work’s Okay, since I only sit around there, but my GP knows about the assaults I had at school, and didn’t want to risk anything.”

She looked at me with a thoughtful expression, before finally sitting back down on the sofa.

“I’m not supposed to advertise this, but if that is all true ... have you ever thought about emancipation? If you can support yourself, you could petition the court.”

“Of course I have. But I read online that the petition needs to be verified by a parent. And I don’t expect them to give up access to my bank account.” I answered dismissively, after sitting down myself.

“That’s not entirely correct. The petition needs to be verified, yes, but not necessarily by your guardian. If you can get a lawyer, they could verify it as well.”

I blinked at her in shock. If that was true, it would mean ... that I was stupid. I could’ve started the whole process weeks ago and may be already free by now, if only I hadn’t made assumptions!

“Try it. If you have the savings, talk it over with a lawyer. Well, I think I have what I need. I’ll talk to your parents next.” I tensed up and swallowed hard. This was bad. And I was the one who pointed her that way with my thoughtless ranting. She seemed to misinterpret my reaction when she continued. “Don’t worry, Timothy. Right now, I don’t see any reason to force you home or even out of this place. There is no indication that you wouldn’t be able to care for yourself. And I get the impression you’d just turn into an actual runaway if we tried, making your situation worse instead of improving it. At least now we know where you are, and it is definitely not in some back alley or squatter house.”

Then she got up and left. What she had said last reassured me somewhat, but the main issue was something else. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the WhatsApp chats. I was more or less forced to install it because all the guys at work used it, but it had the added effect that, after the Logan debacle, I was invited into the family chat. Though I suspected they had another one where I wasn’t included, because they never wrote any messages. On the other hand, maybe that was simply because the grandparents were at the house right now, so they could just talk instead of sending messages. I opened the group chat and posted a single image. The DJ Khaled Meme with the caption: “Congratulations, you played yourself.”

I started the 3D printer for the new router casing, and then started looking for someone practicing family law to help me get the emancipation started. I had just gotten off the phone, making an appointment for the next day, when it rang with a call from Aunt Danielle.

“I suspect it didn’t go well?” was the greeting she gave me.

“No. Definitely not. The opposite, actually. What’s this about anyway, Danny?” I had started calling her that just a few days ago, during one of her daily check-ins.

“I ... seriously don’t know. I’d like to say they’re just trying to do the right thing, but I told them this was the wrong way to go about it. We can’t force or pressure you to come home. I told them to remember the reasons why you left in the first place, and coming back has to be what you want, otherwise it won’t mean anything and just get worse than before.”

“Well, the Social Worker just told me she couldn’t find anything that would make her want to force me out. I showed her around, told her why I left, and she agrees that I’m better off here. But, uh...” I started, before pinching my nose and squeezing my eyes shut. Then I gave her the really bad news. “She’ll talk to Claire and Aaron next. You might wanna start coaching them, maybe Ava and Maggie as well, so they won’t accidentally say anything ... ambiguous ... about our relationships.”

The silence on the other end told me that she was just as nervous about it as I was. This was the exact situation we wanted to avoid when the whole Logan-shit started. A social worker interviewing them, and possibly picking up on the incest-orgies.

“Shit! Of course she’ll need to talk with your parents. I should’ve thought about that!” She sounded exhausted.”What did you say about why you left?”

“I told her about the general neglect and that I was working while doing my own shopping, cooking and laundry for years already. I didn’t even think about what I was saying, I just wanted her to know that being self-reliant wasn’t anything new to me, so she had less reason to force me back. I completely blanked on her having to check my story out! I mean, fuck ... if Ava wasn’t eighteen already...”

“Don’t blame yourself for that. Your grandparents called them about a runaway minor! They would have talked to the guardians of that minor either way. We’re lucky she showed up at your place first, so we have some time to prepare.” she assured me. “I’ll call them as soon as we hang up and take care of it tomorrow. Who knows how soon she’ll show up. But, on another note of people showing up, ... one of Bill’s boys came by the houses today to install surveillance systems. We thought you would be the one doing that.”

“Yeah, that was the plan. But I just ... I don’t know ... I just didn’t want to go back.”

“What do you mean?” I could hear she was trying hard to sound casual now.

“You know how much I’ve enjoyed the renovation?” I asked, and heard her confirm it with a chuckle. “When I was done with everything ... well, done for now at least ... I just walked around the apartment for a good hour, enjoying how it all looked. I feel good here! This is all mine! If I didn’t build it myself, I paid for it with the money I earned. And just thinking about leaving that for a house I have no connection to anymore, and the people I have so many bad memories with ... makes me feel like I have a lump in my throat.”

“Still that bad, huh?” she asked in a sad tone.

“I’ve been out of there for a week, Danny. And in that week I felt better than I have since ... since I lived with Tess, actually. Give me some time.”

“Sorry.”

“You know, I met Ava today.”

“What? In school? Aren’t you still sick?”

“No, not in school. The guy who came to your house was supposed to meet a new client today, but since we switched, I was the one meeting that client. Turned out that the client was the mother of one of Ava’s friends. She visited that friend this afternoon, while we were there.”

“Oh?”.

“Remember how she claimed to want me in her life the day I left, but I just asked how long it would last?”

“Yeah. She was actually quite upset that you didn’t believe her.”

“Really? Well, guess who’s back to being ‘Tiny Tim’, just a week after her declaration.”

“No! You’re shitting me!” she sounded genuinely upset now.

“I told you this would happen. I’m not going to get them presents every few days to rent their affection.” There was a moment of silence while I waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, I spoke again. “I just can’t imagine that it’s going to be any different with the rest of them. When I left, they kept saying how concerned they were for me ... and then you’re the only one that tried to at least call me?”

“Well, that is actually a lot more complicated than you think, Tim.”

“How?”

“The way you left, they all understood that you simply can’t trust them anymore. That your image of them is so bad by now, you just can’t blindly believe what they say. They just don’t know how to prove it to you.” Danielle explained. “For now, they decided to at least respect your wishes and somehow slowly regain your trust. Well, at least most of them did. Your grandparents think it’s best to try and resolve it as soon as possible, and by whatever means necessary, because they still see you as just a kid who doesn’t know how the world works. Trust me, it’s pretty hard on Claire and John. They believe what I told them, but Susy and Mike keep pestering them to take action. And Claire really misses you, so she has to make quite the effort to not just show up at your apartment and spy through your windows.”

That was interesting. I actually never thought about what would have to happen for me to trust them again. I kind of just accepted that this would take a long time to fix, if it was possible to fix it at all.

“The social services Lady said I should try getting emancipated.” I finally announced, causing her to sigh. “And, I don’t know ... I’m gonna talk to a lawyer tomorrow, but if it’s really true, and they’re really just looking for ways to fix our relationship ... Maybe it would help either way, though? I wouldn’t feel pressured if I knew I had an Out if it went bad again.”

I didn’t tell her how I also wanted emancipation as a security net. In case the family was caught in their incestrous escapates, I would be independent and wouldn’t have to worry about social services shipping me off somewhere.

“Are you ... can you at least think about coming back for Christmas?” she finally asked, and I had to think about that for a while. I could imagine spending Christmas with her, and maybe even John and Maggie, but the rest of them?

“I don’t know. There are a few guys at work in similar situations that can’t or won’t celebrate with their families, so they’ll celebrate together. I thought I’ll join them this year.”

It was a lie, of course. I hadn’t talked with anyone about Christmas yet, since I had barely talked to anyone from the office in the past month. My actual plans for Christmas Eve were to do what I did last year as well, when Tess was with her Family: Watch ‘Home Alone’, ‘National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation’, and ‘Die Hard’ - In that order - before I’d simply go to bed. I think I sounded convincing, though.

“Think about it, Okay? We’d love to have you over. I know you have no reason to believe me, but they really want to prove themselves to you.” she said in a hopeful voice.

“I will. But now I gotta prepare something for work and make myself some dinner. Talk tomorrow and tell me how it went?”

“Sure. Bye, Tim.”

After we hung up, I went back outside and finally retrieved my sports bag and the stuff for tomorrow from the car. I simply didn’t want to carry all the stolen cash around while that woman was sniffing around my apartment. With some dinner, I got to work while eating.

I reconfigured the discarded router to create the public WiFi and set its transmission power to twenty percent for now. Then I plugged an LTE stick in, so it would have internet access to send the push notifications about new connections, but set it so the connected devices wouldn’t have actual access to the internet. I thought about using this opportunity to gain access to the guy’s phone the same way I had with the people in the sports bar, but ultimately decided against it. This time, we needed evidence that was admissible in court, so I shouldn’t mess around or get carried away...

After everything was set up, I fixed and glued the loose components to the 3D printed box. Since I used transparent filament for the print, the independent parts and circuit-boards were all partly visible, and it really looked like something I completely made myself. I could just place it near their patio door in the morning, plug the power cord in, and connect with my phone to adjust the transmission power. I went to bed, knowing the next day would start early and be long.