A/N: Well, I've written a long one for you, on account of the last half of this chapter wasn't even planned. Enjoy!

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Chapter 82: What Remains

"When your days have been numbered
with the lost sands of time
And your journey finds solace
at the end of the line,
Remember the happiness
and think of the tears
For our futures are colored
by remains of our years."
~the author


When Enos disappeared without saying goodby, Daisy feared it was the last time she would ever see him. Uncle Jesse was unconcerned, telling her he'd gone to see if Rosco needed any help, but he didn't - couldn't - understand her worry. Her family didn't know him anymore, not like she did. That something, that darkness that she'd not seen since they'd escaped Dirk and Boo, had looked back at her from his eyes as he left their room earlier. Belief that someone he loved was in danger was Enos' kryptonite.

"You know I'd never let anyone hurt you," he'd told her. "I'd die before I let them."

It was a promise she feared he'd gone to make good on.

By 1:00pm, the Hazzardnet began to buzz with reports of State Police cruisers speeding down Highway 20 and turning up Morgan Road. She tried to reach Enos on the CB then, using the emergency channel which the Dukes and Rosco had used to coordinate their espionage that morning.

Rosco alone answered, and only to tell her that he hadn't seen the 'dipstick'.

Bo and Luke walked through the door ten minutes later, having been replaced by Cletus. She pounced on them before they could set foot in the kitchen, but they were clueless as well, having seen nothing from their vantage point on north Morgan Road. They weren't even aware of the excitement taking place just south of them. They were heading back out when Uncle Jesse stopped them, quick to squelch their haste to go snooping around. They'd know soon enough without getting themselves in trouble, he told them, which they were prone to doing when push came to shove, and these were state cops, not just Cletus and Rosco.

While the boys were getting an earful from their uncle on staying home, Daisy switched over to the Hazzardnet channel and asked if anyone had seen Enos or Hazzard #2. All she succeeded in doing was starting a rumor that Enos was missing. By 3:00pm, that rumor, mixed with the one of a dead body being found by the state police at the airport, had expanded into a fully, fleshed-out yarn of how Enos had cornered Darcy that morning and killed him for threatening to annihilate every woman in Hazzard County.

Most gossipers seemed to see Darcy's murder as an act of selfless heroism on Enos' part, and after all, Darcy had been the one responsible for putting their beloved deputy behind bars in the first place. Eyewitness accounts were swapped by disgusted residents of Mr. Kincaid strutting around town and telling off color jokes about police officers and prisons. Speculation turned to whether Enos was in custody or shot dead by the state police, and how exactly he'd killed him.

Things just went downhill from there.

As crazy as the story sounded, the Dukes found little evidence to the contrary. After all, Enos and his shotgun were both missing.


Agent Wilburn disconnected the call between himself and Director Abbott, and weighed his options for the remaining daylight. This morning, he had been looking forward to a long weekend of watching television and playing with his grand kids - now he had too many tasks for the time allotted.

"Murphy's Law strikes again," he thought.

Since Darcy had flown something- presumably women- across state lines, the FBI was now picking up the case in coordination with the GBI and the Missouri Department of Public Safety. Finding a player in Atlanta's trafficking ring up in backwoods Georgia had been a surprise to everyone; with federal power behind them lent them the resources they needed to better track his movements. There was only one problem. To everyone except himself, Stewart, and the people of Hazzard, Kincaid's murder looked like a mob hit.

Hell, maybe it was, in which case the lead on Lazarro, even though it was over two years old, was time sensitive. If he left the airfield now, he'd have time to pull out all their files on Lazarro and Malik back in Conyers before the van from the GSP arrived with the evidence. He glanced at his watch, feeling his age, and realized he needed to call his wife and tell her not to save his supper.

The Dukes still needed to be questioned, as well, if only to cover the bases - cross the 'T's' and dot the 'I's' and all that good stuff, but as per the Georgia State Police, Hazzard was someone else's problem now.

He picked up the CB and thumbed the 'talk' button. "Hazzard one, report." He waited, vowing to give the sheriff a good ten count before he got annoyed. He got to eight before the silence was interrupted by a static buzz.

"Uh, this is Rosco P. Col-...uh, I mean Hazzard One, 10-4, over."

Wilburn grinned and shook his head, but schooled his tone of voice. "Sheriff, please report to the airfield office. Is Hazzard two still here?"

"Who? Do you mean the dipstick or the idiot? The dipstick's gone. Kew! Kew! Over."

How this guy would manage to handle anything serious, Wilburn wasn't sure. Maybe it was all an act. "Just get in here. Now."

"That's a big 10-4," he replied. "Hazzard One, over and out."

Wilburn left the car and headed back to the office, wishing he'd kept Strate around instead of letting him run off. Enos needed to hear what was going to happen as much as the sheriff did - maybe more since he wasn't confident Rosco would be able to relay everything correctly. He made a mental note to find the deputy if he wasn't at the Duke farm.

Ten minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door and he looked up from the file he was reading to see the sheriff standing in the doorway. The man's previous false bravado was gone, replaced by worried fatigue.

"Come on in, sheriff, and pull the door shut behind you."


Outside her bedroom window, the sun had begun its slow descent into evening. The wind buffeted the house, rattling the glass in its casement and rippling the hay in the field like waves across a stormy ocean. It made fresh tears spring to her already puffy and bloodshot eyes. Her emotions had run the gamut from fear to anger to woe, all churning into a cold stew and settling in the pit of her stomach. She'd managed to give herself a splitting headache by worrying, but neither Bo nor Luke's pleading nor Uncle Jesse's soft words of comfort could stir her from her self-imposed isolation.

Her back hurt from sitting for hours in the rickety, wooden chair, and her muscles were wound tighter than the springs on the General Lee. She stood up and rubbed her shoulders, but no sooner had she turned towards her bed then the soft crunch of tires on gravel, far up on the main road, made her hesitate. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she stood stock still and listened.

The vehicle slowed, then turned down the lane. It would be the black Plymouth Fury of the GBI, Wilburn or Stewart, she thought - come to give her bad news in the crisply, starched way that people who might care but didn't really know you came to deliver it. I'm sorry, ma'am... She wouldn't be able to face losing Enos again! Not now, not after everything they'd been through together.

Hesitantly, she pressed her cheek against the cool glass and looked to her left, up the lane. The churning dust and hues of the evening sun turned the white car orange and red as it sped across the hardpack. Her breath caught in her chest; it was not the GBI. She prayed that it wasn't Rosco.

She ran from the window, sending the chair flying across the room, and barked her shin on her bedpost before throwing the door open to race through the kitchen and out the front door. Luke, Bo, and Uncle Jesse, alarmed by her hasty exit, followed her out onto the porch.

By the time the engine cut off, and Enos had climbed out of the car, Daisy was already there to throw her arms around him. He lifted her up and held her close, burying his face in her hair as the wind tore at them.

"I know where you went and why you went there," she whispered against his cheek. It was a guess, but it was an educated one. His only response was to hug her even tighter, and she knew that she'd been right.

She stepped back and took his face in her hands, biting down on her lip to keep herself from crying, made harder by the tears in his own eyes. "Everyone's saying Darcy's dead," she told him. "Tell me you didn't do it, Enos."

Beneath her hands, she felt his chest rise and fall in a sigh before he shook his head. "It wasn't me, Daisy."

She let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. "When you didn't come back, I didn't know what else to think."

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't-" He glanced over her shoulder and frowned. "Uncle Jesse and the boys are waiting up on the porch. I promise, Daisy, I'll tell you what I know, but not with everybody around."

"They were worried, too, listening to all that Hazzardnet gossip. Say something to them."

He waved cheerily. "Hey Bo! Hey Luke!" he called. "Sorry I got y'all worried! I plum forgot to turn my radio on!"

The happiness of his tone sounded feigned, and she hoped the boys wouldn't pick up on it. He turned his gaze back down to her then, so serious that she questioned whether she had even heard him correctly or if she had simply imagined it.

"What do they think happened?" he asked her. "Wilburn said the Hazzardnet was was putting two and two together about Darcy being dead, but all I only know is what I saw and what them GBI fellas told me. "

"Yeah, well, they put two and two together and made five, apparently," she groused. "Everyone in town thinks it was you who killed him. The jury's still out on how you did it and whether or not you're dead or just back in custody."

"The GBI knows it couldn't have been me," he said, "so as bad as that sounds, it's safer for whoever really did it." He nodded towards the house. "They're coming down, we'll talk about it later." Louder, he said, "Say Daisy, we got anything to eat? I ain't had nothing since yesterday afternoon. I'm as hungry as Mr. Hogg on a diet."

"Enos! You sure are a sight for sore eyes," Luke said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We didn't know what to think when you never showed back up!"

Bo was beaming like he'd won the lottery. "We knew them rumors couldn't be true! Shoot, I said all along that didn't sound like nothing Enos would do. Didn't I, Uncle Jesse?"

"Well now, I expect it just goes to show we shouldn't have been listenin' to gossip in the first place," Jesse said. "Come on, let's get back inside before we blow away." He grimaced at the sky. "Could use some rain, but it don't look like we're gonna get it."

"Sure thing, Uncle Jesse. Good to have you back, Enos."

"Thanks Bo," he said, as Uncle Jesse herded them back into the house. "I'm mighty glad to be here."


They gathered around Enos at the table, rehashing the facts he had deemed necessary for them to know, namely everything that Wilburn had told him. The fact of him taking his gun along was easily explained, since everyone but Daisy thought he'd gone to help Rosco watch for Darcy. After what had happened to him yesterday (could it have only been yesterday?!), none of them blamed him for wanting some firepower.

He explained the crime scene briefly, though he left out the number of rounds that had been emptied into the man. Overkill. That was the term he'd come to think of those four rounds of buckshot. Someone had hated Darcy dang near as much, or more, than he had.

Everyone but Uncle Jesse had an idea of who the killer might have been - none of them even close to whom Enos was leaning towards, but he certainly wasn't going to share his ideas with them. Trouble was usually riding pillion behind the Dukes, and the less of that going around the better.

Bo thought the shooter might have been the father or brother of one of the missing girls, while Luke had a hunch it was Jim Morgan who had been a part owner in the airfield until Darcy bought him out three years earlier. The airfield sat on Morgan's Meadows, land handed down from generation to generation in Jim's family. Luke remembered something fishy about the deed and some bad blood between the two men.

Bo and Luke were still arguing over suspects when Daisy finally spoke up.

"I don't know," she mused. "I think we might be barking up the wrong tree altogether. For all we know, it could've been some stranger...or...or maybe one of them GBI fellas."

Bo laughed. "You think it was ol' Agent Wilburn?" he snorted. "Why in the world would he do such a thing?"

"I didn't say it was him, Bo," she snapped. "I just meant it might've been someone we wouldn't normally think about."

Luke rose from the table and flipped back the gingham curtains at the kitchen window. "Hey, y'all, Daisy's fixing to be able to ask him herself. Wilburn just drove up with Rosco behind him."

"Now boys," cautioned Jesse, as everyone got up from the table, "let's just let him talk without spouting a bunch of gossip and hearsay at him."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir, Uncle Jesse."

Daisy met Enos' eyes, but he shrugged his shoulders. It was probably just standard procedure. The Dukes were the most heavily involved in the whole situation, and it would look odd for the GBI to not ask them any questions.

There was a sound of two slamming car doors and then shoes on gravel as Wilburn and Rosco walked up to the house. Enos brushed his sweaty palms against his jeans as his heart beat faster, wondering if he would ever get over that feeling of needing to run. The seconds began to stretch out, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of screaming tires and blinds smacking against the door of the police station.

Soft fingers threaded through his as Daisy took his hand, loosening the grip of the vision. He squeezed her hand in silent thanks as Uncle Jesse invited the men into the kitchen.

Coffee was passed around and they took their chairs again, with Luke dragging the piano bench up to sit on.

"Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Duke," said Wilburn. "I'm much obliged. It's been a long day already, and mine's not even close to over, yet." He studied the faces around him before continuing, "Enos has probably filled you in on some of what happened, but if not, I'll go over it in a little bit. First though, I need to ask where each of you were between the hours of 4:00pm and midnight last night."

"Uh well," began Jesse, "we was all here together. Rosco, too." He gestured to the sheriff, who hadn't so much as uttered a peep from the time he'd come in.

"Sheriff Coltrane mentioned that," he said, "but I had to ask. Doctor Appleby stated that everyone was here at home until he left around 6:00pm, is that correct?"

"Sure is," answered Luke. "So, y'all think the murder happened last night sometime? Had to have been someone who knew Darcy's habits then, given that the airport ain't up and running, yet. How would they have known to find him there?"

Rosco looked up at him. "Now, Luke, you know everyone in Hazzard knows Darcy sleeps in the airfield office instead of going home. He lets his house out to his momma."

"True enough."

Robert Wilburn rubbed at the tension in his face. "I'll be straight with you Dukes," he said. "The state's more worried about Darcy's side job than they are with who knocked him off at this point."

"Side job?" Bo asked.

"Darcy was workin' for some big shot criminal down in Atlanta," explained Rosco. "Flyin' stuff up over the state line."

"And it's given us a good lead on Niki Lazarro's organization."

Luke frowned. "Niki Lazarro...I read something about him in the Atlanta paper. Wasn't he accused of running some sort of trafficking operation?"

Wilburn nodded. "That'd be the one. The GBI's been after him for years, but associates we find tend to end up dead. With the new information we found in Darcy's files, the State Police are focusing their resources to helping the FBI chase his paper trail up to Missouri and wherever else it leads. That means the GBI no longer have jurisdiction here in Hazzard for the murder investigation. The GSP are handing that part of it back over to the county."

Enos shook his head. "Which means, what exactly?"

"It means, for better or worse, the investigation into the murder of Darcy Kincaid is in yours and Sheriff Coltrane's hands," said Wilburn. He shot Enos a peculiar look. "Though, I don't expect that you'll find much to go on, deputy. The GBI's under the impression it might have been a hit job from Lazarro's associates."

"A mob hit? Possum on a gumbush!" Enos forced himself not to look towards Rosco, lest he give himself away.

Wilburn cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "The FBI asked for an officer to act as a liaison between Hazzard County, the Georgia State Patrol, and the GBI to help coordinate the investigation into the missing girls, which is what they're more interested in than the murder itself. I gave them your name, Enos."

"My name!? But, sir...I don't know anything about...well about doing any of that!"

"You did a good job researching Patricia Miller and Addie Sutton, and you're adept at blending in and finding your way around the backwoods of the Appalachians. You understand the culture, and people will tell you things they won't tell me."

"I..."

"And I'm retiring at the end of the year," Rosco added.

"Retiring?!" gasped Enos. "Sheriff, you can't-"

"I'm tired," he confessed. "This last year...it took a lot out of me, Enos. Seeing someone like you get railroaded makes a man rethink his priorities." He looked over where Bo and Luke sat, looking just as stunned as Enos. "All them good times when me and Boss used to cook up schemes against you Dukes, you boys knew that was just for fun. There warn't any hard feelings about it in the end, not really. But, them days are gone, boys, and I just don't have the heart to start it up again, not after what happened to Enos. Y'all gotta grow up, and I've gotta let you get to it." He dropped his eyes as his fingers worried at the brim of his hat. "Besides, it just ain't the same without my little fat buddy. Cletus called me on the way here and said Lulu took him up to Tri-County hospital earlier. He-" his voice cracked, and he rubbed at his eyes. "He ain't wanted to eat in three days."

"Oh Rosco..." Daisy leaned over and gave him a hug.

"I'm awful sorry to hear about J.D.," said Jesse, solemnly. "Tell Lulu I'll be over to visit him tomorrow."

Rosco nodded. "I know she'll be grateful for that, Jesse." He looked back up at Enos, who looked lost. "I was gonna retire years ago, you dipstick, except that the county voted down my pension. You know that."

"Knowing and believing ain't the same, sheriff," he whispered. "This is a lot to take in...from both of you. I need some time to think."

"I understand that, deputy," said Wilburn. "Fortunately, it's been two years since those women went missing and any evidence that's there now, will probably still be there in a couple of weeks. There are other concerns with Darcy, however. We need to know who else might be involved with what he was trafficking, and if any of his associates have ties, even indirectly, to Lazarro's organization. One thing sometimes leads to another."

"I'll be around until after Christmas, Enos," Rosco assured him. He checked his watch. "We'll talk about it more, later. I told Lulu I'd be over at the hospital after I came over here, so I'd better get moving."

Wilburn stood up. "I've got a long night ahead of me, too," he said. "I'll fill you in more, sheriff, when I've gone through the files we found at the airfield. Enos, I'll be in touch."

Enos shook his hand. "I don't want you think I ain't grateful for the opportunity, sir," he said. "but, I can't promise I'm the right man for the job."

"It's you or Cletus," said Rosco, "and Cletus has trouble putting his shoes on the right feet in the morning."

Wilburn grinned. "You'll do fine, deputy. Take some time to sort yourself out, and then call me when you're ready."

"Yes, sir."

The door shutting behind the two men sounded loud and final to Enos, who was still trying to dissect what he'd been volunteered for. And Rosco retiring? Mr. Hogg not wanting to eat? His eyes shifted to the window to check and make sure there weren't pigs with little cherub wings flapping around. Daisy leaned against him, and he put his arm around her shoulders.

"Enos Strate," said Bo, awestruck, "hobnobbing with the FBI, GBI, and all them other letters! You look a little green around the gills."

"I don't rightly know what to think, Bo."

"Sure is a strange turn of luck," said Luke. "You investigating the death of the man who framed you for killing him."


The night was clear and cloudless as Enos stepped out onto the porch and sat down on the top step. Daisy was in the shower, the boys off on dates at the Boar's Nest, and Uncle Jesse was reading the paper. He looked up at the night with its stars stretching away across the horizon, and thought of other skies and other nights so far away from Hazzard.

He missed it - missed the solitude of only himself and Daisy, laying side by side, finding constellations and shooting stars. The days of just being together, talking over nothing and everything and, outside of the FBI locating them, not having much of anything to worry about. Now, he felt as though he'd come back to Hazzard only to be shackled by a collection of burdens just as unyielding as the chains he'd worn in prison.

The door opened and shut softly behind him, and slow footsteps made their way across the porch to the steps. He scooted over to make room for Uncle Jesse to pass, but he sat down beside him on the step instead.

"Hey, Uncle Jesse," he murmured.

"Hey yourself, Enos. You looked like you were doing some mighty deep thinking out here." He handed him a glass. "Brought you some buttermilk."

"Thanks," he said, accepting it gratefully. "That's one thing I missed out there," he waved his hand towards the stars, "no buttermilk."

Jesse studied him carefully from the corner of his eye. "I expect there's some things you miss from out yonder, though, now that you're back in Hazzard."

Enos shrugged. "I think I just miss the privacy most of all," he said. "No offense, Uncle Jesse."

"None taken, Enos," he chuckled. "I suspect Daisy feels the same." They sat in silence for a moment before he continued, "Rosco sure took me by surprise wanting to retire, but he's changed as much as you have this last year. He's started being downright decent to Bo and Luke."

"He only chased them 'cause there was nothing else to do."

"I know that, and they know that," he said. "A couple times things got a little hairy over the years, but mostly when J.D. invited some big wig criminal into town. Rosco blames himself a lot for what happened to you."

"He shouldn't. I've told him that."

"Well...what a man should or shouldn't worry about's sometimes hard to change."

Enos grunted, noncommittally. It reminded him of something Daisy had told him in Fulton, back when there had still been hope of him getting out or being found not guilty. What I want to worry about's my own business, she'd told him. Or something to that effect. What Enos was worried about was much more realistic than some nebulous idea of guilt where there shouldn't be any. He didn't know anyone wiser to ask about it than the man sitting next to him.

"Uncle Jesse, how did Sheriff Harris justify not bringing you or my pa' in when he knew y'all were running moonshine?"

Jesse was silent for a long time, and Enos knew he'd thrown him for a loop, bringing the past up out of the blue. "Is this about Butch Harris or is this about you?"

"Both, I reckon," he admitted. "What if... What if I think I know something, but no one else does. Is is wrong to keep it to myself, if I think it was justified?"

"You're thinking of who killed Darcy," he guessed. "I noticed you didn't speak up when Bo and Luke were talking about it earlier. Do you know who did it?"

Enos ran his hand nervously through his hair. "I don't want to say who, Uncle Jesse, but I've got a good idea."

"Well now," he sighed, "We Ridgerunners might not have been as pure as the driven snow, but Butch knew how things were. We didn't cause no problems or give him a reason to come after us, so he didn't go looking for evidence against us. And, when times were hard, he knew it was the only way we could put food on our tables."

"So...it was justified in his eyes," he reasoned. "Running shine."

"Butch understood the difference between law and justice," he told him. "You and he both came from the hills. You've seen both sides of the fence. It's not many a man who can understand both perspectives, not even this white-haired, old codger. I expect that's why that Wilburn fella wanted you to investigate them missing girls instead of Rosco. You said you thought Darcy's murder was justified?"

Had he said that? He couldn't remember now. "I think it was self-defense."

"It seems to me," said Uncle Jesse, "that there's a big difference between murder and self-defense. If you're strickly looking for a murderer, you might not find one."

Enos turned towards him, feeling like a man in a dark tunnel who has finally seen the light at the end. "Uncle Jesse, you're the smartest man I've ever known," he said, "outside of my pa', of course."

Jesse laughed and patted him on the back. "Otis had us all beat, Enos. I'll be honored to take second."