Blackwood by Gwenda Bond

the guy recognised him instantly. "Your dad's been wondering when you'd turn up. And your mom's pissed. Get in there."
      Great. He headed to the courthouse's revolving door, deciding how best to handle his dad. He was out of practice at being in trouble.
      Despite the sweep of the building's exterior, inside no grand vista waited. The lobby's scuffed marble floor was filled with a crowd of people who weren't usually there. A few tables had been set up, outfitted with phones for a call bank. Phillips' dad had an office on the first floor, up one of the hallways branching off the lobby. He preferred not to work in the jail when he could avoid it.
      Phillips spotted Miranda hovering off to the side of the entrance. He hung back for a second, watching her watch his dad. She must be waiting for his dad to notice her, and all the buzzing activity meant that hadn't happened yet.
      Phillips wasn't sure why his dad had summoned Miranda here, but it bothered him. There was no reason for him to have called her personally.
      His dad stopped to talk to a state trooper and a pasty guy in a black suit. He looked even more tired than he had in the glimpse Phillips got on TV in the airport. Dark circles hung under his eyes like he'd gone weeks instead of less than twenty-four hours without sleep. He responded to something the guy in the suit said, body language dismissive. His dad's mouth fell open mid-sentence as he stared at Miranda.
      Make that past Miranda. Phillips waved.
      Miranda turned her head, frowning when she spotted him. "Thanks for the ride. But you didn't have to come in."
      "I wanted to." He shrugged in his dad's direction. Phillips could tell from El Jefe's scowl as he shot across the lobby that he hadn't even noticed Miranda. Phillips talked fast, "I'm sorry. I don't think any of this is your fault. I'm just worried for you. I did a crap job of explaining before, but you can trust me. I promise."
      "I should…" Miranda hesitated, tilted her head to give him a closer look. Then she stepped between him and his father. Phillips didn't know why she'd decided to delay his moment of reckoning, but he was grateful anyway. She said, "Hey, Chief Rawling. You called me?"
      His dad looked from Miranda to Phillips and back again, finally seeing her. "Yes, I did. You better step into my office." He motioned for her to follow him before he spoke to Phillips, " You wait here." Then he added, "Until I come back."
      Miranda looked puzzled. "Where's my dad? Is he in your office?"
      His dad said, "You'd better come with me." He touched Miranda's arm, extended his other one to indicate which direction for her to go.
      Miranda dealt Phillips another surprise, when she hesitated and said, "If it's OK, can Phillips come with us?"
      His dad's forehead wrinkled in confusion, but he said, "I guess."
      Phillips trailed Miranda across the lobby and along the hallway into his dad's office. The space hadn't changed much. His dad closed the blinds on the tall, narrow windows to the outside, turning the room into a cave. He peered at Phillips from the other side of his desk. "How are you holding up? Any… problems?"
      "Good, actually," Phillips said. "Fine."
      "When we finish here, call your mother. You can drive the car home to her. She'll bring you back here."
      Phillips ignored the part where his dad was allowing him to drive the car, and instead bristled at the command. "What am I supposed to do here?"
      His father lowered his voice. "You know. What you do."
      "There's nothing," Phillips said. "Not since I got back."
      That wasn't what his dad wanted to hear.
      Miranda coughed to interrupt. "Where is he?" she asked, the question small in the high-ceilinged room.
      Phillips didn't fully understand why he wanted to protect Miranda, but he did. It just didn't make sense that his dad would want to see her in person with everything that was happening, not to release her father on a drunk