Chapter Seven: Betty
Kevin's eyes are wide. "Betty, how in the hell are we going to go behind my dad's back?"
"I don't know!" I snap, desperation threatening to clog my throat. "Okay? All I know is that Jughead is in danger and they are going to kill him if we don't do what they say or your dad finds out."
"But – Betty, we're just kids –"
"Kids who have been to hell and back and caught a murderer and almost died in the process. Kids who are at the hospital because someone tried to shoot our friend's dad. Kids who get kidnapped and blackmailed and hurt – We may technically be kids, Kev, but we've seen and done things most adults haven't."
Kevin looks away, rubbing his forehead. "We are in such deep shit."
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I hastily unlock the screen to reveal the new message.
Jughead is curled on the ground, face pinched with pain and smeared with blood flowing from his nose. He looks disoriented and scared. A tear track is etched into the red that starkly contrasts against his pale skin.
Kevin looks sick to his stomach, reading the text attached to the photo. "You have two hours to deliver my message to F.P. Jones. Fail to follow my orders or tell the authorities, and your boyfriend pays the price."
"We need to get moving," I whisper, eyes fixed on the picture of Jughead.
"What are we going to tell Veronica and Archie?" Kevin asks, turning his panicked eyes on me. "We can't just disappear."
"We'll say that your dad needs me at the station and you're coming with me for support," I respond shakily, shoving my phone into the pocket of my skirt. Kevin nods, silently agreeing as we walk back into the hospital together. My palms are sweaty, my heart still pattering at an unnatural rate.
Our friends have not moved. Archie sits facing the doors that block him from his possibly dying father. His face is blank, mind worlds away. Veronica is hugging his arm tightly, quiet tears rolling down her cheeks. She looks up when we reach them, brow furrowed.
"Is everything okay?" She asks, voice full of concern.
"Sheriff Keller needs me at the station to answer some more questions," I lie smoothly, not having to fake the worry. "Kevin is coming with me. Will you two be okay here?" Archie does not respond, eyes not quite reaching mine even though he has turned my way. I kneel down in front of him, taking his hand. "Archie?"
"My dad was just shot trying to save me and my best friend has been kidnapped," he responds hollowly. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know," I murmur, voice breaking. "I wish I did."
"You go, Betty," Veronica offers gently. "I'll take care of Archie."
"Thanks, V," I nod to her before squeezing Archie's hand and hurrying away with Kevin. My heart feels like lead, but we sprint the whole way to the sheriff's station.
"Thank God they haven't moved him to the prison yet," Kevin pants as we reach the parking lot. "If they had there'd be no way we'd be able to get to him without someone seeing."
"We're not in yet," I remind him, fear still gripping my heart.
The station is practically empty. With a teenager missing and a shooter on the loose, most of the officers are out hunting for the victim and suspect.
"Kevin," I whisper as we stand anxiously in the nearly deserted lobby. "How often do they check the security cameras for the cells?"
"Usually every other day," he answers thoughtfully. "More if they are worried about whoever is in there. But what with everything going on right now I doubt they'll get to it for the next few days."
"That will have to be enough time then."
"Dare I say it…" Kevin sighs, rubbing his temples. "But Betty…I don't know how much longer Jughead has."
"Then let's stop wasting time," I snap, not really angry at Kevin. He voiced what I already know; what I can't let myself believe. We walk up to the front desk, where the woman looks absolutely overwhelmed.
"Hi Sharon," Kevin greets politely. "We'd like to visit F.P. Jones."
"Does it have to be right now?" She asks incredulously. "You two shouldn't even be in here. You should be staying safe at home with your parents."
"Please, Sharon," I interject, desperation threatening to spill over. "F.P. deserves to know what's happening with Jughead. And it should come from me, not the police. Please."
Sharon looks at me sympathetically for a moment before nodding. "Of course, you're right. Take all the time you need."
"Thank you so much," I reply genuinely, relief washing over me.
"I'll walk you back. Most of our officers are out right now, what with – well, you know…" I can tell that Sharon doesn't know what to say, at a loss for words. We follow her through the back hallway, where she swipes a keycard and leads us through a previously locked door. "I'm so sorry for all of this. You're just kids. I can't even imagine…"
"Thanks," I mumble, unsure of how to respond. I'm not really listening anyway. My heart is threating to pound out of my chest, my fingernails digging into my freshly healed palms.
Finally Sharon leads us into a room with a cell built in, where F.P. is lounging on a cot pushed against the wall. "Here you go," Sharon says softly, closing the door behind us.
F.P. looks up, obviously surprised to see us. "Betty," he startles, eyes widening. "And – it's Kevin, right? Sheriff Keller's boy?"
"Yes sir," Kevin responds uncomfortably.
"Well, if you wouldn't mind putting a good word in for me, I'd appreciate it," F.P. quips back, half joking. He stands, approaching the bars and resting his arms against them. "What are you two doing in here? Did Jughead send you?" I can sense the pain in his voice at that last question, and I wonder what words were shared when the two spoke last. Jughead never filled me in…
"No," I reply slowly, coming to stand opposite of him. "Mr. Jones…Jughead is in trouble."
F.P. clearly tenses at that, eyes narrowing immediately as he leans forward. "What kind of trouble are we talking? Is it money, the cops? Is it because of me? Is he hurt?" I remember the few stories Jughead told me of life with his father; drunken shouting matches, never feeling safe or wanted at home, being told to hide in his bedroom until the visitors had left. But the parental concern is etched plainly into every feature of F.P.'s face and every hurried question from his mouth. He may not be the best father, but it's obvious that he truly loves his son.
I take a deep breath before giving all the information, careful not to leave anything out. "We were at the trailer together last night, and some Serpents came and gave Jug your jacket, and after they left he and I got in a fight. Jug left the trailer and suddenly I heard yelling and gunshots –" F.P.'s eyes grow wide, and he starts to take a step back. "He's alive!" I add hurriedly, noting the father's sigh of relief. "But – but whoever it was out there, they – they took him. I called the police and ran out and saw a car driving away."
"But you said he's alive?" F.P. whispers anxiously, looking at the floor. "How do you know?"
"I was at the hospital –" F.P. looks up at that, eyes full of hope and fear. "Mr. Andrews was shot at Pop's while he was there with Archie. They rushed him into surgery."
"What the hell?" F.P. pulls at his hair anxiously, much like Jughead does when he's upset and trying to keep himself under control.
"I - I got a text message from Jughead's kidnappers. I don't know why they contacted me and not someone else or if they shot Mr. Andrews or what they want with Jughead or –"
"Just tell me what they said!" F.P. snaps, gripping the bars until his knuckles turn white. A sob rises in my throat as I dig my phone out, scrolling through with trembling fingers until I find the message. I hold it out to F.P., who instantly snatches it from my hand.
"Here," I offer in a quiet voice, watching as he presses play.
Even though I can't see the screen, the images are burned into my mind. I watch F.P.'s reactions as he stares intently at the recording of his kidnapped son. He's hyper-focused, not wanting to miss a single thing. I do my best to block out the sound of the masked man's voice; it will already haunt me in my nightmares.
F.P. is so still, I wonder if he is actually breathing. But the moment the man in the video rests his gun against Jughead's temple, F.P.'s demeanor changes. His grip tightens around the phone, jaw set and chest rising and falling heavily. He visibly flinches when they pull the trigger, even though I told him Jughead is alive.
The sound of Jughead's sob hits me hard, as much as I try to push the sound away. I look over to Kevin, who has his arms wrapped tightly around himself and eyes glued to the floor.
There is a moment of silence as the video ends. I don't dare speak, shifting my gaze to Mr. Jones, who is looking dully at the screen. A low, heartbreaking sound starts deep in his throat and he makes to slam the phone against the wall before thinking better of it. Instead he shoves the object into my hand, running his palms against his face as if trying to calm himself.
"Th-there's one more thing they sent me," I murmur softly. F.P. looks up to me instantly, his whole body tense. I quickly open the text message, holding the phone out again.
F.P.'s eyes bore into the image, taking in every word and detail. He kicks the cot aggressively, a dangerous look on his face. He shouts as he does it again, and I'm suddenly reminded of the fact that he's a gang leader who helped in the murder of Jason Blossom.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit –" He curses loudly, fists clenching and unclenching as he storms aimlessly across the cell, perhaps looking for another thing to hit.
I jump back, and Kevin is instantly by my side. "Mr. Jones," He interjects, voice impressively level. "What do we do?"
"We need to know what they want," I reply quickly, turning to my friend.
"They want confirmation that I got the message?" F.P. growls from behind the bars, finally stopping to look at us. "That's what we'll give them. Record me, Betty. I have a message for that bastard."
I open the camera on my phone, nodding to F.P. when the red light blinks on.
"You got what you wanted, you ass!" he starts, voice low. "You've got my attention. But I swear if you touch my boy one more time I will rip you apart. You're playing a dangerous game here, and I will get out of here and when I find you you'll wish you had never set foot in Riverdale. No Serpent stands alone, and you're going to have Hell to pay."
I stop recording, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"Mr. Jones, we have to be strategic here –" Kevin starts, worry creeping into his voice.
"This is my son, not some political campaign!" F.P. snaps, effectively shutting Kevin up. "Send the video, Betty."