Judith sighed as she scrolled through her camera. Up until this point, she had been looking forward to the first day of school, but now her stomach was tied in knots.
As an eight grader, she had the option to pick her own electives, and was the most excited about her Intro to Film Photography class. She had even gotten a head start on the first quarter project out of enthusiasm.
But now that the first day of school had arrived, her anxiety was getting the better of her. None of the shots seemed good enough, and the longer she stared at the sequences she had cut together the less they made sense to her.
She set the camera down on the kitchen island and covered her face with her hands, sighing again in annoyance.
Michonne glanced up from her task of styling Maya's baby hairs over towards her older daughter sitting across from her. "Everything okay, Bug?"
Judith dropped her hands and looked plainly at her mother. "If being utterly mediocre is okay, then I'm just peachy."
Michonne snorted. "You're hardly mediocre. Overly critical, perhaps."
"Maybe I should have waited for the class before I started the project," Judith lamented, "this just looks like something from a Taratino acid trip."
"What's acid?" Maya asked, turning to look up at Michonne.
Michonne shook her head at Judith's colorful word choice. "Your sister can explain."
"It's a drug that scrambles your brain up, and you should never try it," Judith muttered as she leaned to rest her chin on her hand.
Maya seemed uninterested beyond that and returned her attention to the iPad on her lap, while her mother finished her hair.
"While I'm sure it's not as bad as all that, I don't disagree with you," Michonne told Judith, "the purpose of the class is to learn applicable techniques, right?"
"Yeah, I know," Judith muttered dejectedly, "I just thought my vision would come together better than this.
"You're taking the class to learn how to do just that," Michonne reminded her, with a light laugh. "Even the greats had to humble themselves with a lesson or two."
Judith huffed. "I guess you're right."
"Of course I am," Michonne said, winking at her, "remember, Bug, you're your own-"
"Worst critic," Judith finished knowingly with a nod.
"Exactly. So, lighten up," Michonne said with a smirk.
Judith returned her expression as the sounds of familiar cowboy boots started marching down the kitchen steps.
"Ten minutes before I head out," Rick called as he descended into the kitchen, "butts in seats or you're using your feet!"
Maya giggled while Michonne and Judith snorted at the remark.
"How long did it take you to come up with that one?" Judith teased.
Rick smirked, tugging on her French braid as he passed her. "I had it ready," he returned easily as he caught a whiff of the blueberry muffins fresh from the oven and wandered over to grab one for himself.
"Do you like my hair, Daddy?" Maya asked as he turned to face his girls.
Rick nodded appreciatively at the intricate braiding style Michonne had somehow weaved into the child's head. "Its beautiful sweetheart, prettiest kindergartner I know," he returned much to Maya's delight.
"Let's see how long we can keep it that way," Michonne murmured as she fussed with the bun securing the bulk of Maya's copious mane.
Rick took a bite of his muffin, inwardly smirking because he knew from experience no matter what she did hold it all in place now, Maya's untamable hair would do what it wanted in the end.
"Okay, Munchkin," Michonne exhaled, stepping back to admire her work, "you're all set."
"Thank you, Mommy!" Maya returned as Michonne helped her down from the barstool.
"Do me a favor, and go round up the boys," Rick said to her, knowing his baby girl would be eager to take on the task.
As expected, Maya's grin was almost devious. She quickly made for the steps, calling loudly as she went, "Daddy said it's time to go!"
"Atta girl," Rick said, sliding into the stool she vacated. "What about you, Bug? All ready for your first day of school?" he asked, spinning on his stool to face Judith.
"As ready as I'll ever be," she returned, shoving her camera inside her bookbag.
Rick frowned at her tone. "First day jitters?" he asked before taking a bite of his muffin.
"Mom already gave me the pep talk, you're off the hook," Judith assured him.
"Aw, but I like giving the pep talk," he complained.
"We know you do," Judith said, reaching over to pat his hand placatingly.
He rolled his eyes at her then turned to Michonne who's attention was now on her open laptop next to him.
"We're still on for today?" he asked, nudging her side lightly.
Michonne glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You know you don't have to do this every time," she told him.
Rick grinned, wrapping his free arm around her waist. "It's tradition," he said, "would've done it sooner, if you had said something."
The corner of her mouth lifted in a small smile. "We've been busy."
"Not for that," he told her honestly.
Michonne reached up to stroke his cheek affectionately before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Okay."
Rick hugged her closer, and whispered in her ear. "It's a date."
"You guys are so cute it's disgusting," Judith expressed dryly.
Michonne made a face at her, while Rick laughed and took a bite of his muffin.
"Dad, can I drive today?" Carl asked, entering the kitchen. Andre was close behind with Maya laughingly bouncing on his back.
"We'll see," Rick replied over a mouthful.
Michonne closed her laptop and turned to face her children. "There's muffins on the stove, and where is RJ?"
"Still upstairs," Andre replied just as Judith swiped the muffin he had just grabbed for himself. "Hey!"
"I'll get him," Judith volunteered, taking a bite of the pastry before he could grab it back and disappeared up the kitchen steps.
When she made it to RJ's bedroom, she found him standing with his back to her, in front of the window.
"Come on, RJ, we're gonna be late," she urged, stepping further inside the room. "What are you looking at?"
RJ's bedroom was next door to Judith's, and their vantage of the backyard was much of the same.
From where they stood, they could see Sam emerging from his house with his book bag on his back. He was heading towards the woods again.
"What do you think he's doing out there?" RJ asked, glancing up at her.
Judith shrugged. "Do we care?"
"I guess not," he eventually allowed.
Judith spun him around by his shoulder. "Come on, no sense in him making us late," she said, steering him towards the door.
As RJ wandered ahead of her, Judith found herself glancing over her shoulder towards the window. Truth be told, she was also a little curious to know what the kid was doing out there.
"You go ahead, I'll be down in a minute," she told her brother, pausing by her bedroom door.
RJ nodded and descended the hallway steps.
Judith backtracked into her bedroom, and spotted her old camera sitting on her desk. After checking the battery to make sure it had a full charge, she positioned the camera in her bedroom window seal, and set it to record.
She didn't know if she would catch the little creep doing anything worthwhile on film, but it was worth a shot.
"Let's go, Judes!" her father called from the foyer.
"Coming!" Judith hollered back.
She looked back out the window just in time to see Sam disappear into the brush. "What are you up to?" she murmured to herself, unsure she really wanted to know the answer.
"Mrs. King, it's good to see you. Will you be joining us for brunch?"
Carol smiled politely at the maitre d. "Just Carol, is fine, and yes. A table for one, please."
She followed the gentleman further inside the lavish country club.
The Albatross was a popular meeting spot for Atlanta's elite, it was also a place where Philip and Lily Blake were known to frequent. Carol did not often visit the place herself, but she and Ezekiel had a standing membership.
After doing some light research on social media, she discovered that Lily had plans to meet her mother and sister here for brunch today.
It was the perfect opportunity to chat with her, without raising the suspicions of her husband.
As Carol was escorted to her own table, she spotted Lily sitting out of the open terrace.
"It's such a nice day," Carol began, catching the attention of the young man in front of her, "I think I'd like to eat outside."
"Of course, right this way."
She was led to a table within earshot of her target, and settled with a friendly smile. "I'll just have water for now."
"Of course," the gentleman said, and left her with a menu.
Carol pushed her sunglasses back up on her head and looked around.
The late morning crowd consisted mostly of housewives, likely exchanging the monotony of their daily routines for the bottomless mimosa brunch special.
A waiter approached her table a few short moments later, and placed a glass of iced water in front of her.
Carol smiled her thanks, and when the waiter left her alone she stood with her drink and wandered over towards Lily Blake's table.
"Why, Lily Chambler, as I live and breathe, it is you," Carol greeted the trio in a bright tone.
Lily looked up in surprise. "Hello," she returned politely, "do I know you?"
"Oh it's been years," Carol returned, waving her hand dismissively, "but, I saw you sitting over here, and I would have been remiss if I didn't come over and say hi."
"Well, pull up a chair, darling, I'm Charlotte," her mother introduced with a warm smile, "and this is my other daughter, Tara."
"Nice to meet you," Tara said absently, not bothering to look up as she scrolled through her phone.
"Likewise," Carol returned, and she pulled a chair from a vacant table.
"It's Lily Blake now," Lily informed her, flashing her princess cut diamond ring.
"That's right," Charlotte giddily replied, patting Lily's hand proudly. "You are looking at the next future First Lady of Georgia."
Carol raised her eyebrows, feigning surprise. "Well, well."
Meanwhile, Tara rolled her eyes. "The campaign just started for Christ's sake."
Lily cut her eyes at her sister, but promptly redirected her attention to Carol. "I'm sorry," she apologized, squinting her mint green eyes, "I don't quite remember where I know you from."
"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to, we met years ago down at the APD," Carol replied, watching as Lily's expression slowly shifted from curious to incensed. "After staying by his side through all that, I guess it shouldn't be a surprise that you decided to marry him," she added.
Charlotte and Tara both looked at Lily in confusion.
"What's she talking about, dear?" Charlotte asked.
"Mama, Tara, excuse us for a minute, please," Lily grounded out, as she stood to her feet.
Tara and Charlotte followed Carol with their eyes as Lily led her towards the opposite end of the terrace where there were less eyes and ears around them.
Once they reached the edge, Lily abruptly turned around. "What exactly do you think you're doing? I could sue you for harassment," she whispered harshly.
Carol arched an eyebrow. "Hardly. I'm a member of this establishment, same as you. I was just popping over to say hello."
Lily frowned. "I have nothing to say to you," she said defiantly.
"Oh good, so you do remember me, then?" Carol simpered.
Lily folded her arms over her chest, as she squared her shoulders. "I do now. You're the cop who tried to pin Philip for what happened to the housekeeper all those years ago."
"Listen, I know you don't like me very much, but Philip has come up as a person of interest in another investigation. You could help clear his name," Carol told her, hoping to appeal towards the woman's sentimental side.
Lily glanced over in the direction of her mother and sister as she shifted on her feet, and for a moment, Carol was sure she had her. Then, Lily shook her head, looking back at her. "You're only trying to dig up dirt to hurt the campaign. I won't let you," she said with certainty.
"Lily," Carol started.
"You don't know me, and you don't know Philip," Lily interrupted her, "stay away from us, or I'll file a report with your superior officer, then I'll talk to management, and we'll see how long your membership here lasts."
Carol watched her storm off, and knew she had overplayed her hand. Apparently, the woman was more invested in Philip Blake's political future than Carol had given her credit for. She didn't even get the chance to inquire about the alleged affair between Philip and Andrea.
Going through the courts to obtain a subpoena would attract more attention to the case, but she was running out of options.
Exhaling in frustration, Carol started down the terrace steps. The craving for a cigarette hit her hard, just then. She had made a promise to Ezekiel that she would cut back, but the longer this case drag on, the harder it was to fight the urge.
She reached in her pocket for her emergency pack, and then sighed when she realized she didn't have a lighter.
"Here you go."
She turned to see Lily's sister, Tara, approach with one of her own.
"Thanks," Carol muttered, holding her cigarette to the flame.
"So, I take it you aren't good friends with my sister," Tara began casually.
Carol took a drag, then exhaled slowly. "What was your first guess?"
Tara shrugged. "It's been a while since I saw someone get under her stepford housewife routine."
Carol exhaled through her nose. "You saw that, huh?"
"You were asking her about Philip, weren't you?"
"I was," she replied, considering Tara for a moment. Unlike her mother, the young woman before her seemed less impressed with her sister's standing in life.
"She gets antsy whenever he comes up," Tara scoffed, "dinner conversations are pre-planned talking points, now."
"And, what about you?" Carol asked her, tilting her head. "I get the feeling there isn't any love loss between you and your brother-in-law."
"That's because there isn't," Tara said flatly, "I've told my sister years ago, she could do better. But you can see how far my opinion goes around here."
Carol flicked the ashes from her cigarette. "You don't say."
"I know you're not a reporter," Tara informed her, "so, I'm assuming you're a cop."
Carol nodded. "Detective Peletier."
"What's he done, now?" Tara asked her flat out.
"I don't know," she admitted, "maybe nothing. I was hoping your sister would be willing to help me out."
Tara's face twisted into a grimace. "I could have told you the chances of that happening were slim."
Carol flicked away the remains of the cigarette, and stepped on the cherry to snuff it out. "That's too bad. She could've helped clear some things up."
"I doubt it," Tara said, shrugging her shoulders, "she doesn't really get involved in his politics."
"It's not his politics I'm interested in," Carol told her, watching her reaction carefully.
Tara knitted her eyebrows together as she read between the lines. She glanced over her shoulder, back towards the terrace where her mother and sister were. She had excused herself from the table shortly after Lily and Carol, to go to the restroom when she caught the tail-end of her sister's exchange with the not-so-unfamiliar stranger.
While her absence from their table may have gone unnoticed now, that wouldn't be the case for much longer.
"What are you interested in?" she asked, turning back to Carol.
"I think you know," Carol replied.
Tara took a deep breath, nodding to herself before making a concession. "Not here."
Carol nodded in agreement. "Come down to the station when you're done here," she advised, handing over one of her business cards from her wallet. "We can talk in private."
Tara accepted the card, staring down at it with a cloud of emotions swirling behind her hidden gaze. "Did he hurt someone?" she asked.
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
Tara slipped the business card in the back pocket of her jeans. "I should go," she said, and slowly turned to leave. Then she paused, turning back to Carol. "My sister doesn't want to see Philip for what he is," she said, as if to explain.
"Maybe you can help with that," Carol told her.
Tara nodded slightly, and started to leave again.
As Carol watched her leave, her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. "Peletier," she answered right away.
"Where are you?"
"Following up on a lead," she replied as she began to navigate her way back through the country club.
The woman on the other line made a sound of indignation. "Without your partner, not that I'm surprised."
"Don't take it personally, Espinosa," she said, "it was with an old acquaintance."
Carol could practically see Rosita seething quietly, and if she were honest with herself, she hasn't been the most inclusive partner. But she was used to working alone, and some habits were hard to break.
"I could use your help on an interview later," Carol said to appease her, "I'm on my way back to the station, I'll fill you in when I get there."
She didn't give Rosita a chance to respond, disconnecting the call as soon as she reached the parking lot.
As she settled into her car, she gave a passing glance to the country club, and made a mental note to tell Ezekiel he should probably find another place to golf.
"Shit," Jesse winced as she carefully applied her concealer.
In light of day, her reflection in the mirror did little to hide the angry purple swelling around her right eye or the dark circles underneath her left.
She was exhausted beyond belief, yet she was unable to sleep. And as much as she yearned for the little blue pill to take her away to a dreamless slumber, she held back.
If her last encounter with Pete had taught her anything, it was that she couldn't afford to be unaware any longer.
He liked to throw in her face how useless and pathetic she was, and maybe to some extent he was right. But, he had used that to his advantage for too long...
Last Saturday, 7:31 PM
"Pete, you need to tell me what's going on. Now."
Pete didn't respond, instead he brushed past her, and wordlessly entered the house.
Jesse slammed the door closed, and marched behind him. His silence only fueled her frustration as they entered the kitchen.
"Oh no, you don't get to do this," she seethed, firmly planting her hands on the kitchen island. "Who was that guy?
Pete leaned back against their refrigerator, folding his arms over his chest as he considered her. "I'm sorry, since when do I explain myself to you?" he posited in return.
Jesse's nose flared in indignation. "Since there are men in suits showing up at our house!"
Pete laughed. "Our house," he muttered sardonically. "You mean this roof over your head that I pay for? Give me a break, Jesse!"
"Don't give me that, our boys live here," she shot back angrily, "if you're involved in something I need to know."
"Do you?" he challenged, pushing off the refrigerator to approach her.
To her credit, Jesse did not flinch. Instead, she squared her shoulders and maintained eye contact. "Yes."
Pete chuckled at her sudden show of confidence. "You really are something, do you know that? You mope around here like a zombie, barely taking care of yourself, let alone the boys you claim to care so much about," he sneered, leaning into her personal space, "I don't know where your mind is half the time. And, you know what? I don't really care. I told you before, Jesse, you have one job. You should really focus on that instead of worrying about what I'm doing."
"What are you doing in the basement, Pete?"
There was a subtle change to the look in his eye when Jesse asked the question, confirming her growing suspicion.
She dropped her eyes, inhaling deeply. "So, you're doing it again."
Pete frowned at her choice of words, then rolled his eyes as he pulled up. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said dismissively.
Jesse narrowed her gaze on him. "You think I didn't know about your 'patients'?" she asked with air quotes. "I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure the medical board doesn't look too kindly on surgeries being conducted in a basement," she whispered harshly.
In that moment, something in his glower changed. The look in his eyes became vacant, almost as if a part of him had checked out.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Jesse," he repeated quietly, "so, I suggest you quit while you're ahead."
"That's why you locked the basement, isn't it?" she pressed, ignoring his warning. "I saw the bloodstains on your clothes, and all the hours you spent down there," she drew in a shuddering breath as she recollected the breadcrumbs he had been leaving, "I know you used to do this before, and I know it got you into trouble."
Pete craned his neck to crack it, feeling his agitation grow. Apparently, Jesse had been paying more attention than he had given her credit for. But, the half-truth she had put together so far was too much for his liking.
"You should stop talking now," he cautioned her.
"If you would just talk to me," she pleaded, running her fingers through her hair in exasperation. "We're supposed to be partners."
"Partners?" Pete scoffed loudly, "is that really what you think this is?"
"We're supposed to be," she sniffled, swiping her nose.
The words hung in the air between them like dead weight, because they knew they were the furthest thing from. Having just left from an engagement where they were surrounded by seemingly happy couples, it was harder to ignore the glaring shortcomings within their own marriage.
"Even if you don't act like it, I am your wife," Jesse eventually murmured, breaking the silence that felt between them, "so if you're doing something, you have to tell me because it affects me, too-"
The back of Pete's hand effectively cut-off her plea. She was stunned into silence as the impact caused her face to connect the edge of the counter before she slumped to the ground.
"This isn't a partnership," Pete told her coldly, watching as she whimpered and cowered into herself, covering her face protectively. He dropped down in front of her, roughly yanking her hands away from her face until she was forced to look at him. There was a cut above her eye, bleeding down the side of her face, mixing with tears of fear and anger. "You don't get to question me, and I don't have to tell you a goddamn thing," he whispered.
Jesse could only whimper. Her head was throbbing, and her vision was blurred. But the physical pain paled in comparison to the cold chill of fear running down her spine as she stared into the eyes of the man she married.
Pete shook his head, as if he were disappointed. "One day, you'll learn."
Then, he pushed himself back to his feet.
The last thing Jesse remembered before Sam had found on the kitchen floor, was the sight of Pete going down into the basement.
Pete had barely spoken two words to her since then, which wasn't unusual. But, something had changed. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she was somehow a victim and an accomplice of his crimes, whatever they may be.
She knew when she confronted him that it was unlikely he would own up to anything, but she was unprepared for his violent reaction. Although, even those were occurring too often for his alcohol consumption to be solely to blame.
Pete didn't used to be so easily aggravated. She was accustomed to his dismissiveness, but when it came to his rage, she had no defense.
She returned her concealer to her makeup bag, and sighed at her reflection.
Eventually she turned away, collecting the laundry basket from the corner before leaving the bathroom altogether.
The house was quiet with the boys back in school, and the empty halls left her only to ruminate on her situation.
Household chores preoccupied her while her mind flipped through the pages of her life, desperately trying to find the moment she had lost herself in a loveless, abusive marriage.
So, she didn't see the bookbag left out in the middle of Sam's bedroom floor when she went inside to collect his laundry.
She cursed, dropping the empty basket and turned to look back at the hazard. When she had tripped over the bag, it tipped over and spilled out its contents.
A scalpel, two forceps, and a pair of clamps, and that was just what she could see. She frowned at the surgical instruments her eight year old son should not have had access to.
"What the hell?"
"All right, everyone. One, two, three, eyes on me," Ms. Olivia called her class of rambunctious third-graders to attention.
The cluster of eight year old's were understandably riled up thanks to their mid-morning snack, but they slowly settled down to give her their attention.
"Very good," she commended with a smile as she walked to the blackboard at the head of the brightly lit room. "We'll have thirty minutes of recess. Who wants to volunteer to select our activity?"
Nearly all of their tiny hands shot up, and she picked a student at random. "How about you, Sam?"
Sam sat in the back of the class, and had remained quiet in his seat up until this point. Unlike his peers, he did not volunteer himself and frowned at the prospect of being called out.
"Come on," Ms. Olivia encouraged as his classmates turned to him as well.
Sam wanted to shrink into himself, uncomfortable with the sudden attention.
"I can do it, if he doesn't want to!" another student volunteered, growing impatient.
"Next time, Bram," Ms. Olivia told him, "Sam's going to pick for us today."
"Wish he would hurry up, then," Bram muttered, sulking down in his chair.
Sam felt his palms grow sweaty as he pushed himself to his feet. He slowly walked down the aisle, in between the rows of desks, carefully avoiding eye contact with his other classmates.
Ms. Olivia placed a hand on his shoulder as he neared, and steered him towards a colorful checkered patterned chart etched into the chalkboard. Each block represented a different activity for the class to do.
"You can pick your favorite or one at random," Ms. Olivia instructed.
Sam swallowed hard as he looked over his options. Nearly every one was a group activity that would force him to interact with his classmates. He turned to his teacher, panicked.
"By the time he makes a choice, recess will be over!" someone complained.
Ms. Olivia turned back to the class. "Settle down, we'll have plenty of time," she said, then turned back to Sam. "Do you see anything you would like to do?" she asked, hoping to gently spur him into a decision.
Sam dropped his gaze and shook his head.
"Oh." Ms. Olivia wrinkled her brows, looking back at the board. She tried to make sure she had some options all the kids would like, but apparently not. "Are you sure?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't care, I don't want to pick."
"Can I pick, now?" Bram interjected in exasperation as he raised his hand again. He was quickly followed by other students just as eager for the task Sam seemed uninterested in doing.
Ms. Olivia sighed, but ultimately gave in. "Okay, maybe next time," she said to Sam, allowing him to go back to his seat, while she picked on Bram Ford in his place.
Sam sank back down in his chair in relief as Bram sauntered up to the board with confidence. He pointed to the bright orange block he had been eyeing, and turned back to face the class with a smug smile.
"Kickball," he announced.
His classmates, with the exception of one, were pleased with his selection and vocalized it loudly.
Then, Ms. Olivia corralled her class out into the courtyard that led to the school's field for the game to ensue.
Sam hung towards the back of the line while his classmates chatted together familiarly with one another in front of him.
Even though it was a new school year, most of them had been in classes together since the second grade, maybe even before then, and had already formed friendships with each other.
Sam recognized his neighbor, RJ. He was closer to the front with Bram and a couple of other boys. But after their last interaction, Sam didn't think he would be welcomed into their group. And he was too shy to introduce himself to anyone else, so he decided to keep his own company. He was used to it anyway.
Once they were outside, Ms. Olivia turned to them. "Since Bram picked the activity, he'll be one of our two team captains, and his team will kick first. We'll need another captain, any volunteers?"
Once again, everyone seemed eager to participate except for Sam.
Ms. Olivia called on a girl named Yema, and she and Bram stepped out of the line. Then, their teacher instructed them to select their teams while she went in search of the kickballs.
With each selection, Sam grew more and more anxious, knowing he was likely to be picked last if at all by either of his classmates.
It started with their closest friends, of course. Then, one by one each student was called over to their designated side until Sam was the only one who remained.
It was Yema's turn to pick, and it was obvious she was not excited about it. She exhaled her annoyance and waved Sam over to their team. "Come on already," she called.
Sam slowly made his way to their side, feeling his cheek burn as everyone watched him cross the field.
Yema designated everyone on her team to base, and then turned to Sam. "You can cover the outfield, okay?" she asked him.
Sam just looked at her. He had never played kickball before and wasn't sure exactly what he would need to do, but he wasn't sure how to tell her that.
Yema knitted her brows together. "Okay?" she asked again.
Sam jerked his head in a nod, and Yema turned back to the rest of her team.
Ms. Olivia returned, dragging a netted bag of red inflatable balls behind her. "Okay, line up!"
The kids scrambled to their respective sides. Bram's team lined up behind the homeplate of the playing field, with Bram up first to kick.
Yema took up residence on the pitcher's mound, and the rest of her team covered the remaining bases. Except for Sam. He hovered on the sidelines, unsure of where to go.
"What are you doing?" Yema asked, growing more and more frustrated with being stuck with the new kid on her team.
"Oh boy," Ms. Olivia murmured under her breath as she made her way over to Sam. She placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded towards the field. "You gotta go over there with your team, Sam," she encouraged him gently.
Sam huffed and slowly ventured towards the outskirts of the field.
Once he was in place, Ms. Olivia tossed Yema a ball and the game began.
Yema rolled the ball like a bowling ball towards the home plate.
Bram eagerly bounced in place, waiting until the ball was just close enough. Then, he ran towards it, kicking the ball up and out of reach of anyone protecting the bases. As it arched down into its descent, the only thing standing between the ball and the ground was Sam.
"Watch out!" someone shouted.
Sam tensed and his face winced for an impact that had yet to occur. When the ball unsurprisingly connected with his face, he fell down onto the ground with a grunt.
The field was quiet, and he knew everyone's eyes were on him. Embarrassment came before pain, but the pain shortly followed.
"Why didn't he block?" someone asked as Ms. Olivia hustled across the field.
Sam covered his face as the burning sensation of tears mingled with the stinging on his face from where the ball hit him.
"Oh, sweetie, are you okay?" Ms. Olivia softly asked, leaning over to check on him. She carefully pried his hands away from his face to assess the damage.
His forehead had an angry red mark from where the ball had impacted, but otherwise he seemed okay.
"I...I want to go home," he exhaled shakily.
"How about we go have a seat in the shade," Ms. Olivia offered instead, helping him to his feet. "You all keep playing, just try not to kick anyone else in the face," she instructed the rest of her class as she led Sam by the hand off the field.
For the remainder of the recess, Sam remained seated by his teacher's side while everyone else played out the rest of the game.
When Ms. Olivia finally signaled that it was time to return inside, Sam did not wait for his classmates. He hurried back to their classroom, reclaiming in his seat in the back of the room, and counted down the minutes until he would be able to go home.
"There's my handsome husband."
Glenn looked up from the patient chart he was showing to Jesus to see his wife making her way towards them at the nurses' station.
"Hey," he said, smiling as she neared them, "what are you doing here?"
Maggie shrugged, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Rick showed up at the office to treat Michonne to lunch, so I thought why not swing by here and see if I can sneak you away."
"If he doesn't want to go, I will," Jesus chimed, swiping the chart from Glenn's hands.
Maggie smirked and looked expectantly at her husband. "Well?"
"Yeah, okay," Glenn chuckled, then looked around, "give me five minutes to go change."
Maggie watched him go with a smile and then turned back to her friend. "We'll bring you back a to-go bag," she teased.
Jesus made a face at her as he rounded the station, and she laughed as she leaned over the counter. "Is it busy today?" she asked him, looking around the wing.
"It's a hospital, darling, it's always busy," Jesus quipped, settling down leisurely behind his workstation.
Maggie shook her head at him. "Obviously."
Jesus shrugged, crossing his arms behind his neck as he reclined back in his chair. "So, what are you bringing me back to eat?"
"I don't know yet," she returned, resting her chin in her palm, "any suggestions?"
Jesus started to reply but clamped his mouth shut and sat up in his seat as Pete Anderson approached them. Maggie arched a confused eyebrow, until she looked over her shoulder.
"Hello," she greeted, for the sake of being polite.
"Good afternoon," Pete returned, placing a chart on the counter, then he looked at Jesus. "The patient in 223 needs to be prepped for surgery."
"Okay," Jesus said.
Pete arched an expectant eyebrow. "Now, would be great," he insisted, after the other man made no move to get up from his seat.
Maggie frowned at his tone and shifted her gaze to Jesus.
Jesus snatched up the chart as he stood. "Didn't realize you were in such a hurry," he muttered.
"Hey, I'll see you later, okay?" Maggie said to him, patting his shoulder as he passed.
Jesus turned on his heel as he passed Pete, mimicking a gun to his head as he went.
Maggie smiled sympathetically for him.
"Our nurses have work to do, this isn't a place to loiter," Pete said, drawing Maggie's attention back on him.
Maggie turned with a raised eyebrow. "I'm waiting for my husband," she told him, daring him with her eyes to chastise her like he would a nurse on his staff.
Thankfully, Glenn reappeared dressed in plain clothes before he could try.
"Ready to go?" he asked as he neared them.
"Yes," Maggie replied in relief.
Glenn nodded, and looked at Pete. "We're going out for lunch, I'll be back soon."
Pete, uninterested in knowing their itinerary, only nodded.
"So, what are you in the mood for?" Glenn asked as he and Maggie started for the exit.
"I was actually thinking about crashing in on Rick and Michonne, but I guess I'll let them have their fun," Maggie replied lightly.
Glenn chuckled as he used his badge to open the double doors before them. "Where'd they go anyway?"
"To the marketplace, he's treating her to her favorite," Maggie replied.
"That woman has an insatiable sweet tooth," Glenn muttered as they disappeared into the hospital lobby.
Pete looked up upon overhearing that bit of information, but was no longer able to eavesdrop once they left the wing.
"Patient in 223 is ready for surgery," Jesus announced, returning to the station.
Pete ignored him as he searched on his phone. "What's the marketplace?" he absently asked.
Jesus looked at him as if he grew a second head. "What?"
"Never mind," Pete sighed, turning to leave.
"Where are you going? The surgery wing's that way," Jesus called after him, pointing in the opposite direction.
"Push it back an hour," Pete informed him without turning, "I'm going out for lunch."
Jesus gawked at him in disbelief as he strolled away.
Rick passed Michonne her requested double scoop of dark chocolate ice cream while accepting his own salted caramel order from the cashier.
"Thank you," he said, handing over a twenty dollar bill for their orders.
Michonne tasted her ice cream and sighed in content.
Rick laughed at her expression as he accepted his change. Then, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders. "I thought only I could put that look on your face," he murmured into her ear as they began walking at a leisure pace through the pavilion.
"You and chocolate," she returned, unapologetically.
Rick rolled eyes, exhaling a laugh. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"I'm kidding," she teased, reaching up to pat his cheek, "mostly."
"And you wanted me to forget," he reminded her smugly.
Michonne shook her head. "No, but like I said, we've been busy. All the running around we've been doing to get the kids ready for school, and honestly I forgot."
Rick led her to a park bench, and settled down together.
"Be that as it may," he said, resting his arm on the back of the bench as she leaned into his side, "we're never too busy for this, it's tradition."
Michonne looked up at him, smiling at his insistence.
It was a tradition he initiated back when they first got together.
While out on a date, she had told him that she had won her case in court earlier that day. Rick had been comically appalled to learn that she didn't typically celebrate her court victories in any special way, and decided, right then and there, to change that. So after they left their five-star restaurant, he took her for celebratory ice cream at a nearby parlor.
For nearly ten years, whenever she won a case, the tradition held up.
"I'm surprised you had time to get away. I know the King project is picking up." she said, reaching for his ice cream to taste.
"I had time. Daryl's over at the construction site, I'll meet him there after I take you back to work," he told her, passing his cone over.
"Oh, yours is good, too," she replied, widening her eyes after she tried it.
Rick arched an eyebrow as she proceeded to take turns with both of their cones. "All right, hand it over."
Michonne pretended to hand his ice cream back, only to snatch her hand away at the last second. Rick made a face and she laughed, handing it over in honesty this time.
"Greedy," he muttered, but they both knew she would likely be finishing off both cones before they were done. The woman was a bottomless pit when it came to sweet treats.
"What time do you have to get back?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Whenever I want."
"Perks of being the boss," she laughed.
"Speaking of," he started, scratching his brow with his free hand, "Ezekiel wants me to come up to New York with him to meet his investors."
Michonne sat up a little at the news. "That's good, isn't it?"
Rick nodded. "It'll be good business for sure, if all goes well."
"It will," Michonne replied confidently.
Rick smirked at her. Michonne always believed him, and he drew strength from that. She had been there from the very start, when his business was little more than an idea. If it wasn't for her constantly encouraging even when he couldn't muster the strength to do it for himself, who knows where he would be.
"So when's the trip?" she asked, pulling him out of his reverie.
Rick exhaled. "That's the thing, it's coming up in a couple of weeks."
"You're making Daryl go, too, right?" she asked, reaching for his cone again now that she was done with hers.
"I'm not even sure if I'm going," he told her with a sigh, handing over the remnants of his ice cream without much thought.
Michonne raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you kidding? Why wouldn't you go?"
"School's just starting back up, and the kids schedule would be a nightmare for you to deal with alone," he explained, gesturing with his hand.
"You'd only be gone for what? A couple of days? We have a village around us, more than willing to help out," she said to him, "besides, I know how important this would be for the company, so you should go. Daryl, too."
Rick huffed a laugh, knowing she was right. "You sure?"
She nodded. "I kinda wish we could all go. It'd be nice to see Mama and Daddy."
"Yeah, I was gonna stop by and see them, but they won't be as excited to see me without the whole crew," he mused.
"They'll be thrilled to see you," Michonne countered, laughing lightly, "although, you're probably right."
Rick laughed, too, shaking his head.
Michonne's cell phone buzzed in her purse, and she leaned over to retrieve it.
"Time to go?" he guessed, as she scrolled through the device.
"We can't all make up our schedules," she sighed, turning to him apologetically, "I need to get back for a depo."
Rick pushed himself to his feet, and extended his hand to pull her with him.
Even though she was due back for a meeting, she was in no rush for her time with her husband to come to an end. So, she purposely slowed down as they walked hand-n-hand back towards the parking lot.
"Thought you had a meeting," Rick teased, noting their snail pace.
"I have time," she said, repeating back his earlier words.
Rick pressed a kiss to her forehead, as she leaned into his side.
They eventually made it back to his truck, and as Rick helped Michonne inside the passenger's seat, he got the strange feeling as if someone was watching him.
He turned to look over his shoulder, but saw nothing out of the ordinary in the busy pavilion.
"What's wrong?" Michonne asked as she settled into her seat.
Rick shook his head and he turned back to her. "It's nothing," he assured her, then made sure she was inside before closing her door.
As he made his way around to the driver's side, he thought he caught a glimpse of someone watching him from his driver's side mirror, but when he turned again, the figure was gone.
Rick frowned to himself, thinking he may have been in the sun for too long.
Michonne eyed him curiously as he settled into his seat. "You sure you're okay?" she asked, following his gaze back to the direction they had just come from.
"Yeah," he eventually said, starting up his engine. "Must've been seeing things."
"That's not exactly reassuring seeing as how you're about to start driving," she said warily.
Rick snorted. "You wanna drive?"
"You still seeing things?" she returned, mimicking his infliction.
"My wife, the smart ass," he muttered, as he backed them out of their parking space.
"What was that?"
"Nothing dear."
Michonne snorted, punching his shoulder lightly. Rick laughed as he caught her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss. "I'm kidding, mostly."
As they drove off, a lone figure wordlessly watched them go from his place in the shadows.
Tara looked around the interrogation room nervously, unsure if she had made the right decision in coming.
Before she could think too long about it, the room's door in the room opened and Carol walked inside with a case file under her arm followed by another detective in plain clothes.
"Thank you for coming in Ms. Chambler," Carol began, taking a seat across from her while her partner posted up on the wall behind her. "This is Detective Rosita Espinosa, she's been working on this case with me."
"Nice to meet you," Tara replied automatically.
Rosita didn't respond, and Tara shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"There's no need to be nervous," Carol assured her with a soft smile, "you're not in any trouble."
"Guess you can't help feeling that way in a room like this," Tara replied, hiding her apprehension with a laugh.
"Should have no reason to be nervous, if you've got nothing to hide," Rosita scoffed from her place on the wall.
"What my partner is trying to say," Carol interjected, looking pointedly at Rosita, "is that we're investigating a kidnapping-"
"Andrea," Tara cut in with a nod, "I've seen it on the news."
"Did you know her?" Rosita asked, cocking her head to the side.
Tara shook her head. "I knew of her."
"How?" Carol pressed gently.
Tara sighed, looking down at her hands. "She and Philip had a thing a few years back."
"An affair?" Carol asked to clarify.
Tara jerked her head in a nod. "I don't know how long it went on, but Lily almost divorced him over it."
Carol exchanged a glance with Rosita, then she looked back at Tara. "Philip confirmed the affair. He said your sister wanted to reconcile their marriage after it ended."
Tara rolled her eyes in exasperation. "He would say that."
"You have a different story?" Rosita prompted, folding her arms over her chest as she rounded the table.
"When Lily found out about Andrea, she had a huge fight with Philip over it," Tara recalled running her fingers through her hair, "she moved out of the house, and everything."
"Well, she obviously moved back in eventually," Carol prompted.
Tara inhaled and nodded. "Only after Philip told her it was over between them."
"And she just believed him?" Rosita pressed, unconvinced.
"Lily has always wanted the picture perfect family," Tara explained, "even if it is just an illusion."
Carol sighed at that. "Sometimes, that's all it takes," she muttered.
Rosita huffed in annoyance. "Was that the last time you heard mention of Andrea?"
Tara opened her mouth to respond then paused as she thought about it. "Actually, no."
"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Carol urged her when she didn't say anything further.
Tara blinked at her. "I had forgotten about it, but I remember overhearing Philip in his office talking about her with someone when I was helping Lily move her things back into the house."
Carol and Rosita perked up at information.
"Did you catch who he was talking to?" Rosita asked, planting both her hands on the table.
Tara looked up at her helplessly. "I didn't. I'm sorry."
"Could have been Mamet," Rosita suggested, looking back at Carol.
"It wasn't Milton," Tara told her, "this guy had to have been a doctor or something. They were talking about lab results, and I remember thinking it had to be a HIPAA violation."
Carol raised an eyebrow. "They were discussing Andrea's lab results?"
"I think," she said, furrowing her brows, "I overheard her name which was I was eavesdropping in the first place, but I didn't catch much beyond that."
"What about the doctor, did you get a look at him?" Rosita asked.
Tara shook her head again, dejected. "No, I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Carol told her, "you've been very helpful."
"Is that it?" Tara asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.
"For now, but we may call on you again," Rosita told her, opening the interrogation room door for her to leave.
"I'll help in any way I can," Tara promised before exiting the room.
Rosita closed the door behind her and leaned against it as she looked at her partner. "So, what do you think?"
"We need a list of all of Philip Blake's known associates with a medical background going back the last ten years," Carol told her.
Rosita nodded, pushing off the door. "I'll get right on it."
Once she left the room as well, Carol leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh.
She opened her manila folder, and Andrea's photo was staring back at her. This case was becoming more complicated with every lead she pursued, and she had a feeling it would only become more so as time went on.
Leaving her only to wonder.
"What did they do to you?"
A/N: Hey y'all, apologies for the delay. Writer's block is a real thing even with a fleshed out outline, apparently. Also, I promise, this story will start to pick up soon, so enjoy the nice side of the rainbow while we have it.
I'm really, really going to try and get the next chapter up sooner rather than later so we can get to the good stuff.
In the meantime, to all my reviewers, I appreciate you from the very bottom of heart. Thank you!