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Chapter 76: Never Let the Devil Deal

"The Devil went down to Georgia
He was looking for a soul to steal
He was in a bind
'Cause he was way behind
And he was willing to make a deal."
-Charlie Daniels

Enos burst out of the police station and down the steps, livid that the state of Georgia, with all their resources, couldn't nail down a murderer. And, if they couldn't - what then? He wasn't about to wait around and see if Darcy was still interested in Daisy; psychopaths didn't usually stop at two, especially if they had already picked out a victim. The man was playing them all for a bunch of ding-dang fools, and he could almost see the guy's toothy smirk.

There were ways to get rid of people - that kind of knowledge had flowed freely at Fulton, where whispered suggestions funneled through the creaky old hallways at night, even in SHU. There were places to hide bodies that the police would never look; ways to hide all the evidence or make a death appear an accident or an act of God.

There was an old well up at the abandoned Johnson place where no one had lived for twenty years. The bottom of it was drier than the Mohave...just toss him in and pour some concrete- He stopped abruptly, almost tripping over his feet, shocked at his train of thought.

"I'm not killing Darcy," he told the empty square. If anything happened to Daisy, though... he didn't know how much self control he still had in him these days, but probably not that much.

He turned around and looked back at the courthouse and sheriff's station, now on the other side of the block from him. The Bureau's black Plymouth was still parked out front, and he felt ashamed over his dramatic exit. The problem, as Agent Stewart had noted, was that this case against Darcy was personal to him, and if he wasn't careful, he would make himself into a liability for the GBI. Maintaining professional detachment had been imperative at the LAPD, but since then, Hazzard had seeped back into his bones. He needed to get his head in the game and leave his heart with Daisy, otherwise, he might as well go back to the farm.

Nothing said they couldn't continue searching for evidence against Darcy, even if he was walking around free. To do that, however, Enos suspected he would need the help of higher powers than Rosco; namely God and the GBI, and probably in that order. Resolved to make the best of a bad situation, and not get himself kicked off the case, he took a deep breath and walked back to the station.

Broken glass littered the concrete steps outside the door, and he kicked it out of the way, making a mental note to pay to fix the window. He kept his head down until he was inside the station, thinking dourly that slinking back in after blowing up was worse than a perp walk. They were waiting for him, still seated at the table, now nursing cups of coffee.

Enos climbed the steps, finally meeting their eyes. To his relief, neither agent looked angry, just tired. "I'm sorry, ya'll," he said. "Weren't no cause for me to come down on you two like that. I know you're doing the best you can."

Wilburn smiled sadly and motioned for him to sit. "We've all had cases that have strung us out before, Enos," he said, not unkindly. "Maybe not as personal as this one is to you, but times when we've gotten too close or too involved...Or wanted to take the law into our own hands." He leveled a knowing glance at him.

Enos only nodded, worried his former murderous thoughts were scrawled that clearly across his face.

"And we'll still be searching for those girls, deputy," said Stewart. "There are other places to look, and if we can pinpoint when they disappeared, it will be easier to track where Darcy would have been at that given time. Just because we're playing a waiting game doesn't mean we're giving up."

"It's what we're waiting for that I'm afraid of," Enos reminded them. "And I can't be here a lot, Sheriff, not if Darcy gets out. I need to be able to protect Daisy."

Rosco looked up from his coffee. "I know that, Enos," he said. "I'll keep an eye on her, too. We all will."

Enos put little faith in Cletus watching over anything except his shadow, but he kept his mouth shut. A long moment of silence passed between the four of them, while they wrestled their own demons and drank their coffee, until Enos decided he'd had enough beating around the bush. "So, what's the plan," he asked the agents. "Where do we go from here?"

"Glad you asked," said Wilburn. He stood up and stretched before reaching into the briefcase. He lay a black box the size of a pack of cigarettes down in on the table in front of him. Attached to it ran a long, thin wire with a round, silver button on the end. "Ever worn a wire, Enos?"

His heart beat faster as he picked up the box, turning it over in his hand. "No sir," he admitted. "Not even at the LAPD. Heard a lot of complaints about them not working very well and getting found out, though." And no one had been very keen on them after a VICE informant at Metro was shot to death for wearing one, but he kept that tidbit to himself.

Wilburn sighed and ran his hand though his hair. "They aren't perfect, granted," he said, "but if you're willing to take that chance, I'll show you how to put it on and work it."

"Are ya'll actually thinking Darcy will talk to me?" Enos wasn't so sure. If he was Darcy, he'd lay low and not speak to anyone, especially not the man sent to prison for his supposed death. "I ain't so sure that's gonna happen."

Stewart, who had been putting the folders back in the briefcase, threw him a smirk. "One thing about these types of guys, Strate, is that they like to brag. Their cockiness usually ends up being their undoing because they just can't keep their fool mouths shut. He picked a fight with you before, out at Hickory Ridge. We're hoping he wants a second round. And, to be brutally honest deputy, you've got a reputation around here for being naive and all-forgiving."

Naive and forgiving. Enos thought over the two words which, before last year, had summed him up pretty well. He would probably add gullible to that mix. Now? Well, it was hard to tell if one's own self was naive, he supposed, but he certainly didn't feel very forgiving and he didn't trust people enough anymore to be gullible.

"We'll give him a couple of weeks to settle back in," said Wilburn. "I hear he's already had his plane brought out of storage and someone regraded the airfield runway on Saturday. After he gets comfortable, we'll have you give him a call and see if he bites."

Would it work, Enos wondered, to use himself as bait? Would Darcy's bravado and disdain for him be enough to lure the man to a meeting? He supposed, as he glanced around at their waiting faces, he didn't have much of a choice. "Well," he sighed, "if you fellas think it'll work, I'll give it a try." He handed the listening device back to Wilburn. "I guess ya'll better show me how to use this thing, and then I gotta get back to the farm. Daisy thought I'd be gone a couple of hours, and that was this morning. I'm afraid I've got a lot of apologizing to do."

The ride to the farm was quiet, and the miles of dusty road clicked by without interruption. Enos' watch said 10:45pm by the time they left the station and he hoped Bo, Luke, and Uncle Jesse had already gone to bed. He needed to warn them about Darcy being set free before they heard it somewhere else, but not tonight. Rosco's silence, he knew, was a testament to just how worried and exhausted the man was, and it wasn't until they pulled up beside the mailbox outside the Dukes' house that the sheriff spoke. As he started to open the door, Rosco clamped his hand around his wrist and held him back.

"Enos," he started, his voice hesitant, and he was reminded of that first week in Fulton, when Rosco sat on the other side of the glass and told him that he would have to fight back to protect himself.

"What is it, sheriff?"

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid, Enos," he said. "Like...like...well, you know...taking this into your own hands...or something."

"Don't worry, Rosco, I'm not that far gone, yet."

Rosco didn't seem to hear him. but let go of his arm. "'Cause...cause, you know, Darcy ain't worth ruining your life over, boy."

Enos climbed out of the car before ducking back in. "Go get some sleep, sheriff," he said, and shut the door.

The light from the porch seeped into the quiet kitchen, but otherwise the house was dark, with a lingering scent of ham and beans from supper. Enos flipped the porch light off and let the night swallow him. There was no moon and he felt his way carefully along the table towards the hallway and the guest room. A soft glow shone from beneath its door, and he crept inside as quietly as he could.

Five months after the eternal daylight of Jackson Diagnostic, he still had problems sleeping in the dark, but the only nightlight he had found at the farm had been burned out. Now, the room was lit almost as well as Jack's cabin had been, with four new nightlights plugged into the outlets. He watched Daisy sleeping peacefully, his heart full with the knowledge of how well she understood him. He changed for bed and slipped under the covers beside her, only to find that she'd been playing possum when she rolled over to face him.

"Hey, sugar," she whispered.

"Hey. I thought you were asleep. Sorry it's so late."

She yawned and shook her head. "I wanted to know what was wrong with Rosco," she said. "And don't tell me it was nothing, cause you were gone all day." Her eyes narrowed at him. "And that look on your face tells me it's something big, so spill it."

Scooting closer, he rested his head beneath her chin as she put her arms around him, enclosing him in warmth and love. He missed the days when it had just been the two of them. Could it only have been three weeks ago that they were in Montana? It seemed like it must have been a dream. Then his thoughts turned to the missing girls, lying somewhere out there; cold, and lost, and broken, and the reality that Daisy could be taken away from him - that he could lose all of this in the blink of an eye, overwhelmed his defenses. "I don't even know where to start, hun," he whispered, his voice husky with tears.

Her fingers traveled to his face, feeling the wetness on his cheek, and she pulled back to look at him. "What's wrong, Enos?" Her worried eyes searched his own. "What's happened?"

"I need to talk to you," he told her, "but not here. Not in the house, even if we think everyone's asleep."

He hated to drag her out of bed, and he could already feel how grateful his own body was to lay down, but he needed them to be alone -truly alone, before he told her about Darcy. Maybe it had been the months of traveling together, of relying only upon each other, but she didn't question his reasoning.

"Where should we go?" she asked, sitting up and throwing off the covers.

He climbed out of bed, his muscles protesting being robbed of their rest. "Is the pond okay, or are you too tired?"

"The pond's fine," she said, pulling on her jeans, "but we'll have to take the road with no moon. Do you have a extra flannel shirt?"

"Top drawer."

They dressed as quickly and quietly as they could and, taking a quilt and a flashlight with them, sneaked out the front door into the yard.

"So, what going on?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Let's get there first," he said. "I've got to figure out how to say what I need to tell you."

They walked the two miles without speaking again, surrounded by the night's orchestra of frogs and katydids, and slapping at the mosquitoes and midges who sampled them and buzzed off again. Daisy played the beams of the flashlight here and there, sometimes lighting up the eyes of deer and opossums which hid just inside the woods, or over the dusty road which neither of them needed to see to find their way. It occurred to him that, as many times as he had gone fishing in Hazzard Pond after dark with Bo and Luke through the years, he couldn't remember a time when he'd come here alone at night with her. Tonight would be nice, if not for the knowledge of why they were out here in the first place.

The pond was black and still; the dock invisible. They walked across the worn boards by memory, causing the water to slosh against the pilings, and lay down side by side on the quilt, looking up into the star filled sky.

"Alright, Enos Strate," she said, softly, "I don't think we can get much more alone than this."

He sat up and turned towards her as she did the same. They sat cross-legged in the darkness, like little kids, close enough for their knees to touch, and he fumbled for her hands. "Daisy, what I'm telling you can't go beyond the two of us. In fact, I'm not sure I should be telling you at all, but I can't lie to you, and I don't want to have to hide it from you."

"That sounds like a pretty good start."

He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "I have to tell you, 'cause I'm afraid I might start getting awful flaky over the next couple days...on account of Darcy's going to be walking out of jail a free man."

"What!?"

He winced as her voice echoed back from the other side of the pond. "That's only part of what I've got to say, Daisy, and just let me get it all out before you interrupt me, cause it's hard enough saying this stuff once."

She sighed heavily, and he didn't need to see her face to know there was fire in her eyes. "You'd better talk then, Enos," she snapped, impatiently. "Cause I already have plenty of questions."

He told her about there being nothing except misdemeanor tampering available to charge Darcy with under Georgia law, and then about the girls; Addie Sutton and Patricia Miller, who were missing and presumed dead, but without enough evidence to do anything about it. He told her about the pictures the GBI had found in Las Vegas, both of the girls and of her; how Darcy had been stalking her, the snitch at the Gold Club who had tipped him off, and why it was imperative that she not go anywhere alone after the man was out of jail. And then, he told her about the box in Darcy's car, because he needed her to understand that it was real.

"I have to tell Uncle Jesse and Bo and Luke about Darcy getting out," he said, at last, "because I don't want them hearing it from the news or over the HazzardNet. But they can't know about the rest, Daisy, because it could compromise the GBI's investigation. I can tell you, because technically you're still employed by the county as a deputy."

He could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. "You asked Rosco for your badge back, didn't you." she said. "That's how come you know all this."

"I'm sorry, Daisy, I couldn't let them leave me in the dark where Darcy was concerned."

"I know, sugar. I'm not upset, I just...I don't know that you're right about him being after me."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused as to why she would say such a thing. "He's been following you for years...he has dozens of pictures of you!"

"Yeah, but Enos, think about it. He's had all the time in the world to hurt me, especially after you were in jail and out of the way, but he never did. It doesn't make sense."

"I don't think it's supposed to make sense," he argued. "Probably he got distracted by my trial. He had an awful lot of clippings of me and my escape up on the walls, and articles about the GBI, and train schedules. "

She didn't answer right away, and when she did, he could barely hear her. "Maybe I'm not his target, Enos... Maybe it's you."

He didn't quite know how to answer that. Even though he was sure Darcy had gleaned much amusement from his conviction and sentencing, he wasn't convinced he was that important to the man. Still, it would sit easier on his mind to think he was the one Darcy wanted to hurt, and not Daisy.

The scream of a hawk racing past just above their heads startled them both and broke the thread and tension of their conversation and they got to their feet.

He felt for her in the darkness and pulled her into his arms. "I'm not afraid of Darcy Kincaid," he whispered, before he kissed her.

Wednesday, July 22, 1986

Telling the rest of the Dukes didn't go nearly as smoothly as it had with Daisy. He'd waited until Wednesday morning, after the first rumors of Darcy being released had begun to funnel through the wires, just in case the GBI found more evidence before then. Breakfast forgotten and cold on the table, Uncle Jesse was at his wit's end trying to talk the boys out of meeting up with Darcy somewhere to give him a piece of their minds.

Enos found himself trying to explain, without really explaining, why he, too, thought it was such a bad idea. Neither Bo or Luke understood what his problem was. After all, they were only standing up for him after what Darcy had done. Without knowing the context of the missing girls or the pictures of Daisy, Darcy seemed no more nefarious than some low life, backwoods, scoundrel who had faked his death with his dead brother's body, and Enos could tell Luke was itching for a good fistfight.

"Look!" he shouted over their protests, staring both of them down. "I appreciate that you two would like to go beat the tar out of Darcy, but the GBI ain't done investigating him, yet, and if you go sticking your nose into his business, you're libel to mess up their case. There's things that I can't tell you that you'll just have to take my word on."

Bo shot a quick glance at Luke. "Well, shucks, Enos," he stammered, "You could've just told us that."

"What kind of case?" asked Luke.

Enos shook his head. "You know I can't say," he said. "I probably shouldn't even have told you he was getting out, but you're libel to find out about it soon anyway, so I figured it'd be better to hear it from me."

Luke studied him, suspicion narrowing his eyes. "Just how did you come to know all this, Enos?"

A car honked outside the house, and Enos sighed in relief. Perfect timing Rosco. He had asked the sheriff to pick him up since the GBI would be coming by the station the next day, and he wanted to make sure there was nothing more to be found in the Records Room beforehand. Grabbing his cup of cold coffee, he downed it with a grimace, pretending not to have heard Luke's question.

"Rosco gave him his badge back," said Daisy instead, in answer to her cousin, "to help do research for the GBI." She walked over to Enos and gave him a hug and kissed him. "Love you, sugar." Then, out of sight of her cousins, whispered next to his ear, "Please be careful. I promise I won't go anywhere."

He met her eyes and nodded. "Love you, too, Daisy."

By the time he got to the station, the HazzardNet was already buzzing with gossip of Darcy's return to Hazzard and how he planned to have his flying service back up and running the first of next week. Enos had hooked up an old CB radio he'd found in the Records Room on the lobby desk and was listening to it while filing paperwork. Rosco, tired of hearing it, walked past and flipped it off.

"Quit listenin' to that swill, dipstick," he groused, "it's worse than Momma's soap operas."

"I'm just trying to see how people feel about Darcy being free, sheriff," said Enos, turning it back on. "I'll turn it down."

"You'll turn it off," said Rosco, pulling the power cord out of the front. "I can already tell you what people think about it. They think the GBI's done gone and lost their pea-pickin' minds, and that he oughta be eating lunch with the riff-raff down at Tri-County Penitentiary for how he framed you up. That's what they think." He frowned and looked up at the clock. "I'm gonna go get a corn dog at the Busy Bee," he said, "and you better not turn that thing back on while I'm gone."

"Yes sir, sheriff," he sighed. Truth be told, hearing the gossip was only making him angry anyway. He fumbled in his pocket for a dollar. "Could you get me a buttermilk?"

Rosco snatched the money from his hand and stalked out the door, the window of which had been patched with cardboard. With his absence, the station descended into quiet, and Enos grabbed the stack of new wanted posters from the teletype and headed towards the bulletin board. Halfway there, the phone on the lobby desk began to ring, startling him and causing the stack of posters to fly out of his hands and scatter across the floor.

"Ding dang!" Scowling at the mess, he left them there and ran to the phone, picking it up on the fourth ring. "Hazzard County Sheriff's Department, Enos Strate speaking."

"You're running the show all by yourself, huh?" a man's voice asked. "Never figured you for being so important. Guess it takes all kinds, what with Cletus and Rosco around."

Enos' legs lost their strength and he sank to his knees, leaning his elbows on the desk for support as the man continued to speak.

"I saw Rosco leave, so I thought would call now, since this is just between you and me. Ain't that right, Enos?" He paused, waiting. "You still there, you puritan trash?"

He tried to speak, but failed to manage more than a breathless squeak. He took a deep breath. "Darcy," he whispered.

Darcy laughed. "Cat got your tongue, Enos? Or did they beat that out of you in prison, too?"

He cleared his throat and managed a semblance of normal voice, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to offer you an olive branch," he said. "After all, we've hated each other for years, and it never stopped us from living in the same town together. Thought you might want some answers to what those state goons have been filling your head with...Hell, I'll even give you Daisy's pictures back."

Enos stood up and walked around the desk, quietly pulling out the top drawer where he'd stowed the GBI's listening device. He picked it up and sat it in front of him, trying to stop shaking. "I reckon I've got some questions you can answer," he said, trying to sound magnanimous instead of murderous. "Where do you want to meet?"

A/N: I am bad...so...so...so bad. I know.