Permission to Approach The Bench
The sun was quickly sinking behind the horizon as the sheriff's car pulled away from the farm. They drove for at least five miles in complete silence. Rick had the radio on at a low volume, playing the local country station, and his police scanner crackled to life every now and then. But everyone inside the car was quiet. Even Merle.
Beth kept waiting for someone to speak, hoping it would be Daryl but expecting it to be Rick. However, neither of them said a word. She could sense the tension, and she knew it was solely because of her presence. She could feel the defensive tightening of Daryl's muscles from where she sat. And it made her stomach twist painfully.
How would she ever be able to make up for invading his privacy?
She finally threw caution to the wind and broke the silence. "So which bar are we going to? Was it hard to get her to agree ta meetin' us?"
Rick shrugged, briefly meeting Beth's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Nah, not too hard. I guess she's got some bar close to her office that she likes. Said she'd meet us there. All I really said was that I had some questions about Merle. She didn't seem too happy ta be talkin' about him again, but I… persuaded her."
"So ya blackmailed her," Merle remarked, chuckling. "Now that's what I call real police work."
Beth frowned. "You didn't blackmail her, did you?"
Daryl snorted from the passenger seat, but Rick waved off the question.
"'Course not," he drawled. "I didn't have to. Her job's already on the line, and it ain't got nothin' to do with me or Merle. She's just tryin' ta tie up loose ends."
That sounded oddly vague, but Beth didn't press the issue. She was already thinking up questions for this mysterious blonde judge.
She was also thinking of the possibilities that could come from this meeting. Would she need to use her Gift to see into the judge's head? Or did Rick genuinely believe they'd get all the answers they needed by word-of-mouth?
"Um—d'you think I'll need to use my… Gift?" Beth asked tentatively. "Like, to see into her head or whatever?"
Rick shrugged. "Not sure yet. I'd like ta think she'd be completely honest with us, but… I'ono. Let's play it by ear. Yer good at readin' people, Beth. Use yer best judgment. I'll handle the interrogation."
Daryl grunted, but the sheriff didn't seem to take notice. Beth's face turned red and she looked down at her lap, guilt bubbling up within her stomach. Merle was laughing crudely, of course.
"Alright," she mumbled. "I'll try."
Daryl spoke up from the passenger seat, though his head was turned towards Rick and Beth couldn't see his face past his hair. "What's 'er name?"
"Oh, right—I never told ya, huh?" Rick glanced over. "Andrea Harrison."
"She prefers Judge Harrison when she's gettin' railed," Merle chimed in, grinning wickedly at Beth. "I think the power play really turns 'er on." He laughed.
Beth gave him a look of repulsion before rolling her eyes and turning away to stare out the window.
Judge Andrea Harrison… What did she know?
And what was inside her head?
Beth hoped she wouldn't have to find out.
Twenty minutes into the drive to Atlanta, Rick and Daryl were talking quietly about Rick's kids and how work had been going for Daryl, while Beth sat silently in the backseat and watched the scenery pass outside the window. Merle lit up a cigarette and it took at least a full minute for Rick to notice the smell. When he did, he rolled down the back window without a word, and Merle made a comment about how he was impressed with the sheriff's display of common sense.
Small graces, Beth thought. Maybe this whole ordeal would give Merle a new respect for Sheriff Grimes. She wasn't expecting a miracle, but she could imagine a slight change of heart for the dead Dixon.
A moment later, Rick glanced back to look at Beth. She turned and met his gaze when she felt his eyes on her.
"Merle's here, right?" He asked.
She nodded, jerking her head towards the seat beside her.
Rick turned back to the windshield, but spoke aloud and directed it toward the seemingly empty spot behind his seat, "Hey, how 'bout you back off Shane a little? Could ya do that for me, Merle? 'Cause I gotta listen ta all his whining, and I'm runnin' outta excuses for the crazy ghost shit that's been goin' on in his office lately."
Merle barked out a laugh. "In yer dreams. I'mma go about as easy on that bastard as he ever went on me!"
Beth translated for him, "I don't think that's gonna happen, Rick. Merle's holdin' a pretty big grudge against Walsh."
Rick just shook his head, chuckling softly to himself. "Well, can't say I didn't try."
Beth had watched the weather report on the news that morning. She'd seen the radar map and how the big green blotch had stretched across Atlanta and Senoia and several other towns. She'd watched the meteorologist predict how it would move, and where it would get the most severe. Atlanta had experienced the same heavy rain as Senoia the night before. But the storm was moving north rather quickly, and it seemed to have settled over the city for a little longer. So as they drove down the highway and got closer to city limits, the rain became heavier and the sky grew darker with both clouds and nightfall.
Rick turned the windshield wipers up as they entered Atlanta, and kept them going at full-speed while they drove through the city. He navigated his way down long urban streets, past tall buildings and deserted parks and concrete sculptures. Beth was already wishing she'd brought a raincoat.
They drove through an area that appeared to be packed with all types of law offices and private practices. As they drove past a huge gray building labeled Fulton County Courthouse, Rick pointed it out and mentioned that Judge Harrison worked there. Which meant they were close.
At 8:28 pm, the sheriff's car slowed and pulled into a curbside parking spot in front of a building that sat on the corner. Beth gazed out the windshield and saw that it was a bar, similar to the one where she'd first met Daryl back in Senoia. It was small, and all the windows were tinted and filled with various advertisements and hand-written signs. The big square sign above the front door was lit up with neon lights: Milton's Tavern. And just like most other businesses, there were Halloween decorations scattered about: a couple jack-o-lanterns sitting on window sills, a few decals of witches on broomsticks and black cats stuck to the glass. There were only a handful of vehicles parked outside. A large white man was sitting atop a stool beside the front door, beneath the awning, and he was scrolling through his phone, barely offering a glance at the sheriff's car that was parking in front of his workplace.
Rick shifted into Park and turned off the ignition, pulling the keys. He let out a sigh and glanced around, first at Daryl and then at Beth.
"Well, y'all ready?"
Beth and Daryl nodded in unison.
"I was killed ready," Merle said. He cackled at his own poor joke.
"Alright," Rick said, unbuckling his seatbelt and glancing around one more time. "Just let me take the lead—got it? Let's try an' read the room. Don't go makin' her feel awkward or forced or on-the-spot. Let's keep it casual. Friendly. I'mma buy her a couple drinks, maybe we'll have some, too. Just ta put her at ease. No worries, though—I'll get the tab." Then he winked and chuckled before turning to open his door.
If Beth wasn't already tense and anxious about this meeting, she definitely was now. Rick was taking it really seriously. And for some reason, she hadn't put much thought into whether Judge Harrison would decline to tell them what they needed to know. Beth had almost assumed that they'd get all the answers they wanted once they talked with Andrea. But this judge lady was just another person, wasn't she? She could lie. She could leave things out. Beth had to keep her guard up, and use everything she knew about reading people. Even though she didn't have nearly the confidence in herself that Rick seemed to have.
Beth was all nerves when she put up her hood and stepped out of the car. She rushed after Rick and Daryl, eager to get out of the rain and under the awning.
But just as they approached, Merle stopped and said, "Actually, blondie, on second thought—think I'll stay out here."
Beth paused, standing halfway under the awning and halfway in the rain. She looked over at Merle from under her hood and spoke quietly, "What? Yer wimping out right now?"
Merle frowned and grew defensive. "Hey, I ain't wimpin' out! I just don't wanna see that broad again. And it's fuckin' torture watchin' y'all get drunk when I can't. The fuck kinda help you think I'm gonna be in there anyhow? She can't fuckin' hear me."
Well, he had a decent point.
Beth rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just don't pop up an' scare the crap outta me when you inevitably change yer mind. If yer gonna stay outta this, then actually stay outta this."
He waved her off and leaned back against the outside of the building that housed the bar. "Maybe I will, maybe I won't. You ain't the boss of me. I go wherever I damn well please nowadays."
She sighed with exasperation and hurried forward to join Rick and Daryl, leaving Merle standing in the rain, though he remained completely dry.
They were stopped at the door by the large white man. He was wearing a black T-shirt with bold white letters printed on it that read: Drink + Drank = Drunk; and right below that was the same font from the sign over the door: Milton's Tavern. He asked for ID, pointedly eyeballing Beth while Rick and Daryl stood by, waiting. She quickly reached into her purse and extracted her driver's license. Once it passed inspection, they were allowed inside.
The inside of the bar, just like the outside, was similar to the bar back in Senoia. It was lowbrow and casual, almost a dive bar, with dim lighting and a smoky atmosphere that smelled like stale cigarettes and a mixture of different liquors. A touchscreen jukebox in the corner of the room was playing a pop song from the early 2000s. There was a small group of people off in the corner, crowded around the pool table and chit-chatting while they played. A few other people were scattered around here and there, some couples occupying the tables that lined the walls, and some singles sitting alone at the actual bar in the center of the establishment. Everyone was dressed a little differently, some casual and some in suits or dresses.
It wasn't hard to figure out which patron was Judge Andrea Harrison. Beth spotted her almost immediately: sitting alone at a table in the far corner of the room, dressed in a pinstriped black pants suit with perfectly-curled, shoulder-length blonde hair, and a creamy-skinned face that was beginning to show signs of middle age.
Rick and Andrea spotted one another simultaneously. He lifted a hand to point and muttered, "There she is." She lifted her head and looked right at him. Then she raised a hand and beckoned him over. Beth and Daryl followed silently, trailing behind the sheriff like a couple of baby ducklings.
Andrea stood from the table as the trio approached. Closer up, Beth saw that the older blonde had striking blue-green eyes, high cheekbones, and a regal face that demanded authority. She shook Rick's hand formally, offering a smile—though it looked tense and a little forced.
"Sheriff Grimes," she greeted.
"Judge Harrison," Rick returned.
"Please—call me Andrea when I'm not wearing the robe."
"Well then, I'd prefer if you call me Rick."
She gestured to his outfit. "You're still in uniform and everything."
He chuckled. "Didn't have time ta stop at home an' change."
She kept up her plastic smile and flicked her eyes over to observe Beth and Daryl. Her eyebrows rose.
Rick took the cue and gestured to his cohorts. "Sorry, this is Daryl and Beth. They're good friends of mine."
Andrea offered her hand to Beth, then Daryl, maintaining her polite smile and tone of voice. "Nice to meet you, I'm Andrea Harrison."
"You, too," Beth said meekly, grasping the judge's hand for no longer than a split-second.
"Nice ta meet ya, I'm Daryl Dixon," Daryl introduced himself, grasping Andrea's hand for just a tiny bit longer.
Her smile disappeared as soon as the name hit her ears. She pulled her hand back and blinked. "Dixon, huh?"
Daryl nodded.
She cleared her throat and looked at Rick. "Not to be rude, but—what's with the inquisitorial team, Rick? I was under the impression that we were meeting up for a couple drinks, filling in a couple blanks. You didn't say you'd be bringing his brother."
Rick shifted uncomfortably, but maintained eye contact. "Well now, it's not like that. There's a lotta blanks to be filled in, and—"
"You're already knee-deep in this investigation, aren't you?" Andrea quirked a brow and gave the sheriff a knowing look. "Off the books and completely against policy, I'm guessing. You've already got leads to follow… don't you, Sheriff Grimes?"
He tensed. His silence was all the answer she needed.
"Hmm," she hummed, lowering herself back into her seat. "I guess this should be interesting, then." She paused and looked up at the trio, then she gestured to the empty seats around the table. "Well, have a seat. Let's get it over with already."
Rick sat down first, taking the chair directly across the table from Andrea. Beth sat down to the left of Rick, and Daryl pulled up a chair from another table to sit at the end, with Rick on his left and Andrea on his right. The judge already had a bottle of beer in front of her, and she lifted a hand to wave down a waitress before taking a sip.
Then she set her intense gaze on Rick from across the table and said, "So, if you're here with your cavalry, asking about Merle, that means you bullshitted some paperwork. Correct?"
Rick shrugged. The expression on his face was calm, cool, and collected. All business. He'd gone into professional mode. "Think it's fair ta say you already know I bullshitted some paperwork ta keep you outta the weeds. Merle might not have been at your house that night, but y'all were together when you shouldn't've been. All I did was move some things around to close the case."
Andrea smirked, impressed. "It's certainly fair. I'll admit, I knew you'd filled in some blanks on your own… but that doesn't explain why you're still following up. You got the alibi you needed. And just to clarify—he was never at my house." She paused when the waitress walked up.
"Ah," Rick interjected before Andrea could place an order. "A round of Budweiser fer the table. An' two tequila shots, please."
The waitress nodded and hurried off towards the bar. Andrea leaned back in her seat, gazing over at the sheriff with intrigue. She barely offered Beth or Daryl a glance. It was like they were no more than audience members for the time being.
"I mean," she started, lowering her voice. "We both know he killed his dad. That goes without question. What do you think you're gonna get out of an investigation?"
Rick shook his head. "That's not what I'm investigating. I came here 'cause I'm lookin' into Merle's death."
Andrea tensed, her eyes flicking over to Daryl for a split-second. She leaned forward and spoke to Rick, "I was told he hung himself. Pretty cut-and-dry… Why're you looking into it?"
"Because it's not so cut-and-dry as I originally thought," Rick drawled. "Some new information has come to light, and it's made me believe I may have overlooked some vital details. Daryl here agrees."
He gestured to Daryl, who simply nodded in affirmation.
Andrea narrowed her eyes and looked over at Beth. Then to Daryl, before settling on Rick. "And who's she? A reporter?"
"No, ma'am," Beth interjected, her voice high and nervous. "I didn't even go to college. I'm just here with Daryl—moral support."
Andrea smirked and raised her eyebrows. "Is that so?"
"It is," Rick confirmed. "Listen Andrea, I got no desire to sling mud. I'm not here to blackmail you or threaten you or nothin' like that. All'a this is completely off the record. I just have some questions. I'm only lookin' for answers. Another lead I might be able ta follow."
"Yeah, sure," Andrea muttered, rolling her eyes. She picked up her beer and threw back a swig. Then she said, "I'm sure it's got nothing to do with how vulnerable you know I am right now."
Rick scoffed. "I'm not tryin' to use none of that against you. I just know—"
She interrupted him, directing her words towards Beth and Daryl, "If you guys weren't aware, my career is already on the line because I was busted with four times the legal amount of Adderall in my system while I was on the bench. I've got a little problem; my extracurricular activities have been getting me into trouble lately." Her tone was laced with sarcasm and resentment. "But the honorable Sheriff Grimes here agreed to keep yet another one of my dirty little secrets if I went along with his ad-lib legal report." She took another long swallow of beer, eyes locked on Rick.
The sheriff stiffened up and tried to laugh it off. "C'mon now, no hard feelings. We're both just doin' our jobs to the best of our abilities."
Andrea rolled her eyes. "Right… And what are you capable of, Rick?" She stared him down. "Covering for a murderer?"
Without missing a beat, Rick quipped back, "Under certain circumstances. I reckon it's kinda like how yer capable of sleeping with a murderer."
Andrea pursed her lips. Her nostrils flared and she downed a swig of beer, setting the bottle down a little harder than necessary.
Daryl interjected, "Only person Merle ever killed was our old man, and the asshole had it comin'. Trust me."
She raised her eyebrows at Daryl, a bit surprised.
Rick agreed. "The things Merle did while he was alive are a non-issue. We ain't here fer none'a that."
The waitress returned, carrying a tray full of drinks. She set them down accordingly, and Rick motioned for her to set the shots of tequila between him and Andrea. Then she was gone again.
Rick picked up his shot and raised it towards Andrea—a peace offering. She hesitated at first. But then she sighed and grabbed the other shot glass. They clinked them together before putting them to their lips and downing the shots.
Beth was so nervous that she was actually quite grateful for the beer that had been set before her. She took a small sip, cringing at the taste, but hoping a little bit of liquid courage might ease her nerves. Daryl had already downed a quarter of his bottle in one long drink.
Andrea and Rick chased their shots with beer, and when Andrea sat back, she looked noticeably more relaxed. Though the worry lines were prominent in her forehead, and her shoulders were slumping like exhaustion was finally catching up to her after a long day. Or a long year.
Daryl spoke first, a little more assertive than he probably should have been. "'F ya don't mind me askin', what the hell were you even doin' hookin' up with my brother in the first place? I know he had his own kinda charm, but yer a respected public official. It don't make sense."
She heaved a loud sigh and looked from Daryl to Rick, barely glancing at Beth. "Look… I've made a lot of bad decisions in the last eighteen months. And Merle was one of them."
"Why, though?" Daryl pressed. "What reason you got ta be makin' so many bad decisions?"
Rick shot him a look that said, Don't push it. Daryl shut his mouth.
Andrea narrowed her eyes and argued, "Quite frankly, that's none of your business. It has nothing to do with the case at hand."
"I apologize," Rick said. "He didn't mean it like that. We're just lookin' fer answers anywhere we can find 'em."
She relaxed a bit, then she sighed again and spoke directly to the sheriff. "Obviously, I had no idea about anything to do with his dad until you first called me. We didn't talk—we got drunk together, I thought he might offer me some kinda bribe or something to give him a lighter sentence. I didn't plan on entertaining it, but then he kept ordering drinks, and he had some really good Speed, and the next thing I knew…" She shook her head, glancing away in shame and taking a long sip of beer. "It was just a drug charge. Sure, he had a long record, and I probably should've cracked down on his case to make myself look better. But he didn't seem that awful of a guy once I got to know him. An asshole, sure. But harmless. I figured it wouldn't do anyone any good to throw him in prison. I mean, God forbid he gets behind bars and starts linking up with some of those guys who aren't harmless. Let's not kid ourselves—Merle would've been the newest addition to the Aryan Nation within a month of being in prison."
Rick nodded along, offering an expression of understanding as he nursed his beer. "I get it. And yer right. I'm not here ta pass judgment or accuse you of anything. In the long run, it don't matter, 'cause he's dead now."
"Then why are you here?" She asked sharply. "If he's dead and it doesn't matter, what could you possibly need from me? I didn't even talk to the guy after we hooked up. He never showed up for his court date, and before I could even sign a bench warrant, they were telling me he'd been found hanging from his bedroom ceiling. So what does that have to do with me?"
"Well," Rick started.
She cut in to add, "And if you're gonna ask if he showed any suicidal tendencies during our time together, the answer has always been and will always be no. He was the cockiest son of a bitch I've ever met. I'm pretty sure he thought himself invincible."
Daryl grunted and Rick smirked.
"Yeah," the sheriff said. "You're right about that. And that's the thing—we don't think he killed himself."
Andrea's face fell and her eyes darted from Rick to Daryl to Beth and back again, full of questions. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "What? Why would you think that? What reason could you possibly have to make such a claim?"
Before Rick could respond, Daryl cut in and said, "Well he didn't leave no note. Don'tcha think that's a little weird?"
She shrugged, barely meeting Daryl's eyes. "Honestly? No. He never struck me as the writer type."
Rick snorted.
She looked at him sternly and said, "You didn't mention any of this on the phone, Rick. I thought this was gonna be about his dad."
"Nah," Daryl clarified. "We know he killed our dad. Don't care. But yer one'a the only people who had anythin' to do with Merle 'fore he was murdered."
"One'a the only people who's still alive," Rick added.
Andrea's face paled. "Still alive? What d'you mean?"
Rick cleared his throat. "He had a dealer that he was hangin' out with. But the dealer turned up dead not long after Merle's alleged suicide. It was murder, and they don't have any leads."
"Jesus," she breathed out. She took a swig of beer and massaged her temple with her forefingers. "So… you're already on the killer's trail. Right? You must have some kind of lead if you resorted to interrogating me."
"We got a name," Daryl replied before Rick had the chance. "And a face. But that's 'bout it. The guy hasn't left any other traces behind."
"And he kills people that he knows law enforcement won't care about," Rick said. "Criminals and addicts, like Merle and his dealer. In Merle's case, he made it look like a suicide, so even Daryl wouldn't second-guess it. Nobody even suspects him."
"Except us," Beth joined in, finding the strength to speak up after a few more sips of beer. "We're the only ones who know the truth, the only ones who can do anythin' to stop this guy."
"Stop him?" Andrea asked, giving Beth a quizzical look. "Sounds like he's some pissed-off loan shark or something. Why even bother?" She caught Daryl's eye and quickly clarified, "Not that Merle's life didn't matter, I just mean—what makes you think he's gonna go killing anyone else? Or that all this effort is even worth it if you know you aren't gonna get a conviction in the long-run? If you don't have substantial evidence, if you keep going off the books like you are right now, there's not a single court in the nation that'll hear you out. You could be risking your badge over this, Rick. And for what?"
Without hesitation, Daryl said, "For me. Because this murderer's comin' after me next. An' I ain't got no interest in bein' killed over some fake stash of money that my brother already blew through years ago."
"What?" Andrea asked, confused. "Fake stash of money? What're you talking about?"
Rick took a swig of beer, licking his lips, and explained quietly, "The whole ordeal with Merle killin' his dad—well, there's a lot more to it than what's on the surface an' what's in the records: The late Will Dixon set a fire back in the 80s that killed his wife and nearly killed Daryl. It gave him a fat insurance payout. But he wasn't workin' alone; there was this other guy who worked fer the insurance company, helped 'im pay for the plan, and they were in on a deal to split the payout fifty-fifty. Needless to say, Will bein' Will took all the money and went off the grid. And the other guy had no idea where ta find 'im until news of Will's death got out a few months back. Thing is… the money's all gone. Merle got hold of it an' spent every last dime. So when his dad's scorned business partner came callin' fer a thirty-year debt…"
He didn't need to explain further. Andrea was visibly putting the pieces together and drawing her own conclusions.
She reeled, blinking in disbelief. "You can't be serious."
"Serious as a heart attack," the sheriff muttered.
The judge shook her head and mumbled under her breath, "Fucking hell." Then she turned to her purse sitting in the empty seat beside her and reached in, pulling out a pack of smokes and a book of matches, and lit one up. She took a long drag and slid the ashtray closer atop the table, ashing her cigarette before she met Rick's eyes again.
"Okay, so let's say Merle was murdered by someone who's coming after his brother next," she said. "What kind of evidence do you have? How have you learned this much, or gotten this far? What makes you so confident that it's whoever you think it is?"
Rick wavered, contemplating the question for a moment. Daryl and Beth looked away awkwardly, and Beth took a sip of beer to distract herself.
Finally, the sheriff explained, "It's… complicated."
Andrea's eyes widened. "You found some forensic evidence? Ran it through a lab without a warrant?" She presumed, appearing very confident in herself. "Is that what you're telling me right now, Sheriff Grimes? Has the do-gooder, small town sheriff gone rogue?"
Well, Beth thought. That's a more believable explanation than the truth.
Rick must've been thinking the same thing, because he quickly lied, "Yeah. That's what I'm tellin' you. If that means I've gone rogue, then so be it. But Daryl is a good friend, and I'd go to the ends of the earth to protect my friends. And even though I never much cared for Merle, he was still a human being, and he deserves justice."
Andrea's expression softened and she glanced at Daryl uncertainly, like she was still trying to get a read on him. She probably was, Beth reckoned. He was pretty difficult to read, after all.
"I respect that," Judge Harrison conceded. "If there's anything I can say, it's that I honestly respect you, Grimes. You've got integrity. I know that everything you do is done with good intentions. But…" She took a long drag off her smoke and frowned, exhaling through her teeth. "I'm not sure I can help you. Not because I don't want to—I simply don't have any more information for you. I spent one night with Merle, I made some very regrettable choices, and the next morning, I woke up in a shitty little cabin out in the middle of Bumfuck, Egypt and drove myself home with a hangover from hell. I never saw or spoke to Merle Dixon again after that."
Rick nodded, maintaining an impressive level of patience and understanding. He took a sip of beer and sat back in his chair. "Okay. Well… did y'all talk about anything in particular? I mean, did he mention anything that came off a little… odd? Whether it was jokingly or not. Anythin' like that?"
Beth wasn't sure where he was going with this or what kind of answers he thought he might get. But she reminded herself to let him take the lead. This was part of his job, so she just had to have faith that he knew exactly what he was doing. Daryl was sitting tensely, and she could tell he was growing more and more unsure by the moment, just like she was.
Andrea shook her head. "No. We barely spoke, in all honesty. It didn't take long to realize that he was a lot more likeable when he wasn't talking."
Daryl snorted and Rick stifled a small laugh.
"Yeah, alright," the sheriff said. "I don't doubt that fer a second… Guess that leaves me with one last question. It's a long-shot, but I'd be wastin' both our times if I didn't ask."
At that, he set down his beer and reached into his back pocket. He extracted a folded-up photo, which he unfolded and set down on the table, face up. He slid it across and waited for Andrea to look down at it.
"Have you ever seen this man before?" He asked. "His name is Philip Blake, but he might be callin' himself Brian."
Andrea's eyebrows knit together as she gazed down at the photo in the less-than-ideal bar lighting. She stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray and picked up the picture with both hands, holding it up to get a closer look.
Then her face went pale, paler than Beth had seen it thus far.
Like she'd just seen a ghost.
She slowly lowered the photo and stared at Rick. "This is your suspect?"
"More than a suspect," Daryl said. "We know he killed Merle. Without a doubt. Don't ask how, but once we get hold of 'im, we can prove it real easy."
Andrea let go of the photo and it dropped onto the table. She abruptly stood up. Her face was no longer pale, but a sickly green color. "I'll be right back." Then she rushed off towards the door labeled Restrooms.
Beth, Rick, and Daryl watched Judge Harrison disappear behind the door in a rush. After a few seconds, they turned to one another and exchanged quizzical looks.
Then Daryl shrugged and took a sip of his beer, leaning back in his seat ever-so-casually. Without glancing back at her, he muttered to Beth, "Best get that Gift ready. Looks like we're gonna need it."
to be continued…
