AN: Here we are, another chapter.
I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"It's definitely this road," Alice said, sliding into the truck on the passenger's side and plopping a large bag of boiled peanuts on the seat between Daryl and herself. "We only go a few more miles down. Then we'll it. But he said it wouldn't be marked very well. The sign's hard to see, but it's there. Bent Willow Lane. Sounds pretty damn picturesque doesn't it?" Alice mused. She rolled down her window and, plucking one of the peanuts out of the large bag and, after opening the shell with her teeth, she flicked the soggy peanut shell out the window and into the small parking lot.
"The fuck is with the peanuts, Al?" Daryl asked.
Alice laugh and shoved her hand into the bag of peanuts again. She ate another in the same fashion as she'd eaten the first.
"Asshole said he wouldn't give me directions of I didn't buy something," Alice said. "Jokes on him. He makes these in the store so I knew they had to be pretty good. I was going to buy some anyway. I pretended like he really got me over a barrel, though. He's like two hundred years old. They're good peanuts, though, if you want some."
Daryl refused Alice's offer of the peanuts with a grumbled thanks. He'd probably eat half the damn bag on the way back to Liberty, but he didn't want to eat them right now. Besides, he might want to give her hell about buying a bag that big of peanuts before he admitted to her that it was a good purchase.
Daryl could easily understand how it was that, in a place like this, the person selling the peanuts wasn't going to give away any directions if he wasn't getting anything in return. They were pretty far away from anything that could be described as the city. They were surrounded by a small town, but this area was one of those outcroppings that had probably once been pastures or farmland. A lot of agricultural land—and especially small family farms-had gone belly up and that land had been turned into suburbs and neighborhoods that tried to pretend they belonged to their surrounding towns but were still pretty much isolated until they grew enough to run into something a little less rural.
It seemed about right that the asshole they'd come there to see had chosen a place like this to live. It would put him smack dab in the middle of some kind of subdivision where he could look like he was just part of the budding community, but it also kind of put him out in the middle of nowhere. The area probably gave him some privacy. Privacy that he used, no doubt, to torture his wife. Daryl continued along the road that he had predicted was the right one, even though he never had been that great at reading a map, now that it had been confirmed to be correct by their new peanut-producing friend.
Just as they'd been warned, the roads weren't well-marked because most of the street signs had gotten lost in a tangle of kudzu and overgrown trees. Daryl could tell it was one of those areas where the county came through, once in a while, just to cut the trees right along the edge of the road because they were a liability for the power company. They didn't care what the roadsides looked like otherwise. Daryl saw the sign almost at the very moment that he would have missed the road, but he was able to snatch the wheel and get the truck to turn. He just barely made it on the road and Alice hooted before she laughed at the abrupt turn that they made—a turn that sent her somewhat barreling into both Daryl and her peanuts. They might have come on their bikes, but their bikes drew more attention. What they needed was something that wouldn't draw any attention. They needed something that would never get them recognized.
Axel had just the thing. This truck didn't belong to anybody anymore, but they kept it running for situations just like this one. If any police officer wanted to run a scan on the tag they were driving on, they'd find out that the tag was long expired and the truck had once been registered under the name of a man called William Walsh who had died about ten years ago in a house fire—long after he'd rid himself of the bucket of bolts that Daryl was now driving. The sticker on the truck was a fake. Of course, more than one brother had counterfeited things in their life, so it hadn't been hard to come by. Cash or a registration sticker—it was all the same to someone in the business of counterfeiting. Daryl was driving carefully enough that no cop would have any reason to run a scan on their tag, though, and for the time being they were too far out of the city limits to really get the attention of too many officers. There would be no reason for anyone to know that this particular truck hadn't carried insurance since probably Daryl and Axel were both in diapers.
Alice and Daryl weren't trying to draw too much attention to themselves. They didn't want to be memorable and they didn't want to be traceable. It just so happened that the Judges were typically pretty good at blending in when they had the desire to do just that. They'd shed their cuts before they'd even gone in to piss somewhere tonight. This wouldn't blow back on any of them. Experience had taught them how to avoid things like blowback.
The Judges were well-known and easily recognizable, but only when they wanted to be. To anyone who saw them tonight, Daryl and Alice just looked like a couple of people out riding around in an old clunker that was hardly memorable.
"Keep your eyes peeled," Daryl said. "Lookin' for 724 on the house. That was 724."
Daryl let the truck crawl along the street. For what had seemed like country roads before, the area unfolded into a packed little neighborhood with houses close enough to each other that people could have talked to each other out of their windows if they been so inclined. It was dark, and the streetlamps were sparse, but they were there. In addition, most every house had a light on the porch that was lit up as though everyone wanted to make it clear that they welcomed company at any hour.
Daryl had no sure way of knowing that there would be no light on at 724, but he had a gut feeling that the person who lived there probably wouldn't be the kind that wanted to seem too welcoming of company.
As they eased slowly down the street, Alice leaned over Daryl so that she could see the house numbers better. Not all of them were visible, but they were able to see enough on the mailboxes to figure out if they were going in the right direction. They were also able to predict which one would be 724 as they approached it.
Just as Daryl thought, 724 was the only house around that didn't have a light burning on the porch. This asshole wasn't welcoming visitors. It didn't matter to Daryl, though, because this wasn't a courtesy call.
Daryl park the truck on the street. He pulled right up against the curb. He killed the engine and the lights. He wouldn't be there long and he didn't want to attract the attention of the neighbors. Even though they would have a better chance of finding a needle in a haystack than they would have of finding that old truck again, Daryl still didn't want to take any chances.
As instructed, Alice was staying in the truck. She wouldn't come out unless she was needed. Daryl hoped she wouldn't be needed. He had a feeling that he could handle this himself. After all, he was only going to have a conversation with the man.
Daryl rang the doorbell, and then he quickly knocked three times on the door. He waited a moment and was just about to knock again when the door open a crack. He was mostly talking to an eyeball that peered at him through the crack.
"Who the hell are you?" The man snarled. It was all Daryl could do not to laugh. He could tell the guy was given to intimidation, but Daryl wasn't easily intimidated.
"Just somebody who wants to talk to you," Daryl said.
"I ain't interested in none of that religious shit," the man said. "Ain't goin' to your church and I don't need your pamphlets."
Daryl did laugh now.
"Well it's your lucky day," Daryl said, "because I ain't here with no religious shit. And I'm not sellin' nothin', and I don't got no damn cookies, either. I just want to talk to you."
"I don't know you," the man responded, "so I don't really think I have anything to say to you."
"I thought you might say that," Daryl said. "Are you Ed Peletier?"
"Who the hell are you?" Ed snarled in return.
"Am I supposed to take that as a yes?" Daryl asked. "I really prefer direct answers."
"It's none of your damn business who the hell I am if you don't tell me who the hell you are," Ed responded.
"I'm just a friendly neighbor," Daryl said. "With an important message for you."
"What the hell kind of message could you have for me?"
"I know your wife. Your ex-wife. An' your lil' girl, too. Know the kinda person you are. Know how you treated them. I know you didn't deserve what the hell you had an' you ain't knowed what the hell to do with it."
"Were you the asshole that was fuckin' my wife?" Ed asked.
"Far as I know," Daryl said. "Weren't nobody fuckin' your wife. I'd venture to say that you was included in that. Or—at least you weren't doin' a damn good job of it."
"You fuckin' listen here!" Ed snarled. He pulled the door all the way open then. He sized himself up against Daryl. Daryl smirked at him. Maybe the man outweighed him, but Daryl wasn't afraid of his size. It took a hell of a lot more than a couple of pounds to intimidate Daryl. Daryl only hoped that Ed Peletier had the sense to be as intimidated by Daryl as he should be.
Daryl had hit a sore spot on purpose. No man liked their manhood questioned—least of all a man like Ed Peletier. Men that weren't too secure in themselves couldn't handle anyone bringing their manhood into question.
Men who thought it was fine and good to beat their wives were never very secure in their manhood. Daryl considered that common knowledge.
"I don't got to listen to a single damned thing," Daryl said, maintaining his calm. He knew men like Ed. Not letting them get him riled up would intimidate them more than any angry threats that he could spit at them. "You're the one who's going to listen. And I want you to listen real good—'cause I'm tellin' you this for your benefit. Stay the hell away from her. She don't want a damn thing to do with you. Not no more. You didn't know how to take care of what'cha had an' you don't deserve it. You don't deserve to have her as no wife an' you don't deserve to have no kid. So you just keep your distance."
"I don't think it's for you to say," Ed declared.
Daryl hummed and shrugged his shoulders in response.
"Maybe it ain't," Daryl said. "Call it makin' a judgement call. I made it. I'm statin' it right here and right now. Plain and clear so you can hear it. Stay the fuck away from her. From both of 'em. Because if you don't? You'll see me again. And it won't be a friendly call for a little chat the next time you see me—whether it's at your door, or your workplace, or whatever damn hole in the wall you slither into. Because when I come back—if you make me come back—there ain't gonna be no damn where that you can hide from me. I'll be able to find you no matter where the hell you go."
Daryl delivered the words to the man in almost even and cool tone. He leaned into him so that he could hear him, but his voice wouldn't travel. There would be no neighbors that were disturbed by Daryl's visit.
It was very likely that his tone was one of the biggest reasons that Ed's expression looked the way that it did. He thought he was good at hiding fear, but he wasn't. Daryl could tell that he was damn near pissing his pants.
"Are you threatening me?" Ed asked.
"No," Daryl said. "I'm not threatening you. I'm makin' you a promise. The kind of promise you can count on. I'm good on my word and good at keepin' my promises."
"What the hell are you?" Ed asked. "Some kind of henchman?"
Daryl laughed to himself.
"No," he said. "No—nothin' like that. In fact, we always got insurance that the people that we spend time with absolutely don't die. Dyin' is sometimes the easy part. So, like I said, we got insurance against that. We're not into murder. No—no, man. What I'm talkin' about? It's a whole lot worse than just killin' your sorry ass. What I'm talkin' about is the slow dismantling of your entire fuckin' life. By the time I'm done, you're gonna agree with me that just lettin' you die woulda been the easy way out all around." Daryl smiled at Ed. He was getting to him. He could tell. Ed didn't know who he was. He had no way to identify Daryl. He was terrified. The funniest part, perhaps, was that he'd have reason to be even more terrified if he had a way of actually knowing who Daryl was and who the "we" behind him was.
But Daryl had left the cut in the truck.
They didn't want to be traced. You never wore a cut on this particular kind of business trip.
"In fact," Daryl added, keeping Ed's attention and building his discomfort, "we've even been known to stop a few suicides. Figured they weren't really ready to go yet. That's just another judgment call, of course, but we've all made a few of those."
"I'll call the fucking police," Ed said.
Daryl laughed.
"You couldn't really call 'em until after the fact because you don't got a leg to stand on. And if you don't fuck with her—then don't nobody fuck with you. So what would you tell 'em any damn way? You beat your wife? You was so damn horrible to her that she finally left you, took your kid, an' got a restrainin' order against you. That'cha decided to walk through that shit an' do somethin' to her so somebody come after your ass for it? You think we can't make this shit look like it's self-defense? Do you think we can't make it so it looks like you're the damn crazy ass that's tryin' to pin some shit on her? Don't you think the cops are gonna look out for this woman before they look out for your sorry ass? You think I'm dumb enough that I ain't coverin' my own damn tracks?"
Ed stared at him, hard as Daryl offered him a string of questions that Ed had to know were rhetorical. Even if he'd wanted to, Ed couldn't respond because he knew the truth of everything that Daryl had said. He had nothing to fear if he left Carol and Sophia alone. He could rest easy at night.
If he didn't, though, he would pay for whatever he did or tried to do. And the cops wouldn't help him because the Judges would make sure that there was no way that he looked innocent or even credible.
Ed was fucked, and Daryl felt like he knew it.
Daryl chuckled.
"You ain't callin' the cops. Not tonight and not ever. You wouldn't dare. Because you know they got a folder as thick as a good ass steak that's just on your indiscretions against that very wife I'm tellin' you to leave alone. So you gonna do what I'm tellin' you to do. You gonna leave Carol alone. Go to court and do what'cha gotta do. Then, if you got the sense God give you, you're gonna disappear. You should prob'ly sell this house 'cause she's gonna get some of that in the divorce. Then you oughta find you a new place to live. I'd probably find me a new place somewhere where nobody knew who the hell I was or what I'd done. I would certainly move out of this town. If I were you, I'd probably move out of Georgia. Might even think about gettin' out the fuckin' Southeast. I hear Canada is a real nice place. One thing I'd do for certain, though, if I was you, was what the hell I told you. Stay so damn far away from her that I can't even think that maybe you was responsible for anything that happened to her. You catch my drift? Because if anything does happen to her – anything at all? I'ma hold you personally responsible."
Ed stared at him, his mouth partially open, for a moment. He closed it and opened it again like he might speak. Then he closed it again. He didn't know what to say because he was still trying to decide if the whole thing was real. He was probably wondering if Daryl was some kind of figment of his imagination.
Daryl had seen it before. He nodded his head.
"I know what you're thinking," he said. "You're trying to decide if I'm serious. Let me help you out. I'm serious. You just do what I'm telling you to do, and you don't never see me again. Believe me that's how the hell I want it. I want it so that if we should ever bump into each other again, it's on friendly terms. Ain't that how you want it?"
"I don't want shit to do with you," Ed said, finding his voice.
"Then stay the hell away from her," Daryl said with a shrug. "That's all the hell you got to do. But you have a good night. Sleep well. Have some sweet dreams. And make sure the last damn time you see her, it's court ordered. In a court room. Under judge and jury. Because if it ain't, you might be gettin' real familiar with the local ICU."
Daryl didn't give Ed the opportunity to come out of his stupor and respond. He didn't give him the opportunity to do something stupid, which he knew he would when he finally thawed out. A man like Ed didn't like to be threatened. His masculinity was far too delicate for that. The only reason he wasn't starting anything was because he was still too surprised that Daryl was even there and speaking to him. He possibly didn't even believe that the conversation was real.
But it was real, and it would take it a while for everything to sink in. Daryl would be gone by then. In fact, he be so gone, that Ed might even question whether or not the whole conversation had taken place, and he might even question his sanity, but one thing he was probably likely to do was to heed Daryl's words because he was afraid that what he had heard was true.
Daryl didn't bid Ed a final farewell or anything of the like. He simply turned and walked down the driveway. He got into the truck, closed the door, and lit a cigarette. Ed stood there, still holding the door open. Finally Ed closed the door, apparently realizing that Daryl wasn't going to drive off until he had done so. Then Daryl cranked the truck and drove off. He was down at the end of the road, ready to turn back onto one of the main roads, when he shoved his hand into the peanut bag and pulled out a peanut. He rolled down his window so that he could both flick cigarette ashes and throw peanut shells out of it.
It was a nice night, anyway, and Daryl had always liked riding with the windows down when he was confined to the interior of a vehicle.
Alice picked up munching on the peanuts again—something she'd given up while the truck had been parked. She reached over and took Daryl's cigarette pack out of his pocket without asking permission. She knew he wouldn't say anything. She helped herself to one of the cigarettes and used Daryl's lighter to light it.
"So you're not going to say how it went?" She finally asked. She'd sat on the question as long as she was willing to do so.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"I think it went pretty well," he said.
"You think he got the message?" Alice asked.
"Oh—he got the message," Daryl said. "Hand-delivered. Signed and sealed. Good as any subpoena."
"You think he's going to listen?" Alice asked.
"If he's got a brain in his head," Daryl said.
"Then that's questionable," Alice said.
Daryl chuckled.
"It is," he said. "You're right. But we'll hope for the best. We'll all hope that Ed is smarter than his appearance gives him the credit of bein'. Good damn peanuts, Al. I'm glad you got 'em."
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AN: So real life and work mean that I have very little time to write. I'm squeezing it in here and there. I apologize for it taking so long. It also means that I'm not doing a very good job of responding to too many reviews. I hope you'll forgive me for that. I have to make the choice between spending a couple of minutes responding or spending a couple of minutes getting one paragraph closer to having something to offer you. If someone is reviewing, I know someone is reading, so I assume that you'd really rather have a little more of the story. I just want you to know that I appreciate every word you guys leave me. I read your reviews many times, especially when I need a little inspiration or just a pick-me-up from a less than stellar day. I hope you've enjoyed the chapter and I'll try to get you the next one as soon as possible!