The arrangement changed after his first month.
Vivian began paying irregular flat amounts and asking him to transport people without appointment records.
When he objected, she said he was an independent contractor and therefore responsible for his own documentation.
Miles had kept a notebook listing every trip because he wanted to calculate the money he was owed.
The notebook included several journeys that ended at urgent care clinics, yet Vivian’s internal schedule described them as recreational outings.
“One woman didn’t want to come back,” he said.
“Which woman?”
“A lady named Ruth.”
He sat down heavily.
Ruth had asked him to stop at a public library so she could find her sister’s address online.
Vivian called his phone before he reached the parking lot.
She said Ruth was confused and might become frightened in public.
Miles returned her to the house because he believed Vivian knew her medical needs.
“Afterward she kept asking why I listened,” he said.
“I didn’t have an answer.”
I asked whether he had seen Ruth recently.
“Not for two weeks.”
A cold pressure settled beneath my ribs.
“Where did she go?”
Miles said Vivian told staff that Ruth’s family had arranged a private transfer.
He had not transported her himself.
He knew no address.
“I should have asked for paperwork,” he said.
“I should have checked.”
I told him I had also missed signs and that guilt would not help us establish what had happened.
He looked at the stack of photographs on my desk.
“She wanted you to build that fence before the next inspection.”
“Which inspection?”
Miles glanced toward the window.
“Somebody from the county was supposed to visit the house last month.”
Vivian had told him that neighbors were making malicious reports about seniors living with family.
She said an opaque fence along my property would protect residents from prying eyes.
Miles had believed her until he saw how carefully she controlled who entered the upstairs rooms.
I asked why he had not walked away sooner.
“I needed the money,” he said.
“My wife is recovering from chemotherapy, and the medical bills don’t stop because a client is dishonest.”
His answer reminded me how Vivian used the vulnerabilities of everyone around her.
The people in the house needed care.
The workers needed wages.
The relatives needed reassurance.
The neighbors needed peace.
She gave each person a different reason to stay quiet.
Miles pulled a folded paper from his jacket.
