Carol pulled over on the side of an empty stretch of road. Dense forest lined the asphalt on either side, making it impossible to see beyond the barrier of trees.
It was still dark in the early morning hours, but the blockade of emergency lights illuminated her path forward.
She spotted officers speaking to a man dressed in camouflage and a hunting vest nearby, but her focus was on the crime scene ahead.
As she approached the parameter, she could make out her partner just beyond the trees. So she flashed her badge to the uniform guarding the line, and he lifted the yellow tape to allow her through.
"What have we got?" she inquired once she was within earshot.
Rosita turned with her arms folded over her chest, her expression was grim. "It's what we don't have that's the problem."
Carol arched a questioning eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Follow me," Rosita urged her, turning to lead the way, "and watch your step. John Deere over there was setting hunting traps when he stumbled onto the crime scene."
"The season hasn't even started yet," Carol sighed.
"Uniforms got most of them, but you never know."
As they approached the scene, Rosita's cryptic words gained meaning. Two large flood lights had been erected over the area, highlighting a makeshift grave below. It was a shallow pit, barely large enough to fit an animal, let alone a human sized adult.
But the pit contained neither, instead were only the partial remains of a woman's torso.
In her near twenty years on the force, Carol had witnessed a lot. A woman of her size and stature often had put up with just as much, but nothing could have prepared her for this.
"What do we know?" she murmured, unable to take her eyes away as the crime scene unit unearthed the remains.
"Dismembered female, caucasian. We won't be able to get more than that until we get her back to the lab," Rosita explained.
"Dispatch relayed a connection to our case," Carol said, shifting her gaze to her partner.
Rosita nodded solemnly. "The only ID on this victim matches a tag on ours."
Carol inhaled slowly, knowing Rosita probably already made the identification, but she also knew it was something she needed to see for herself.
The Holden family provided as much detail as they could to identify Andrea, everything from birthmarks to childhood scars were documented. She only had one tattoo that the family knew of, a small butterfly on the right side of her navel.
The remains displayed before them now also had a small butterfly tattooed on the right side of the navel.
Carol dropped her gaze, exhaling her frustration. If this poor soul really was Andrea, then they were too late to save her. And what's worse, her kidnapper turned killer was still out there somewhere.
"Siddiq, what do we know so far?" she asked the lead crime scene investigator on the site.
Siddiq looked up from the pit to address the detectives. "There's surgical stitching along the chest cavity and abdomen, the bruising indicates that it occurred pre-mortem, but not long before," he said, pointing to the stitches.
"Signatures of the good doctor," Rosita muttered.
Carol was thinking something of the same. "Did we have any luck with the hospital surveillance?" she asked, turning to her partner.
"I've got uniforms reviewing a month's worth of footage back at the station," Rosita said, then exhaled. "It's going to take time."
"Something we don't have enough of," Carol said, nodding back to Siddiq. "Do we know what the surgery was for?"
"Not until I get her back to the lab," he sighed.
"What about the time of death?" she asked him.
He furrowed his brows as he considered all he had to work with. "Considering the RM has pretty much settled in and judging by the coloring of the bruises around the stitching, I'd put TOD around twelve to fourteen hours ago."
"Damn it," Rosita cursed under her breath.
Carol was just as frustrated, feeling the cold condescension of failure seep into her bones as she stared down at the remains.
Siddiq slowly rose to his feet and pointed towards the ID tags on the ground. "The good news is we were able to identify footprints around the scene. And I'm pretty sure our victim didn't walk here herself."
Carol's gaze was severe as nodded to him. "Get everything you can from those prints."
"Yes ma'am."
Carol gave the remains one more parting look, her determination fueled by her anger at the woman's injustice. While it was too late to save her, maybe there was still time to prevent this from happening to someone else.
But, the clock was ticking.
Sunlight filtered through the windows, bathing the bedroom in a hazy light. Rick watched the slow illumination through hooded eyelids.
He had trouble sleeping the night before and woke up well before the sunrise, unable to push the interaction from the previous night from his mind. Something about the incident with Pete, as brief as it was, nagged at him.
The man was prick, that much was obvious, but there was more to it than that. He was dismissive of his family and loose with his alcohol. Characteristics Rick was intimately familiar with from his experiences with his own father.
Being around Pete stirred up old memories from his childhood he hadn't had to think in a long time.
He also knew his anxiety stemmed from his upcoming trip. Having rarely traveled far without his family, leaving them behind, especially now, bothered him more than he cared to admit.
"Your thoughts are loud."
Rick glanced down at Michonne, her face pressed against his chest with her eyes still closed. "I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair.
Michonne exhaled, stretching a little as she craned her neck up to look at him. "What's on your mind?"
Rick sighed. "I keep thinking about what happened last night," he admitted, rubbing his temples with his free hand.
"With Pete?" she asked, resting her cheek back against his chest.
He nodded slowly, running his fingers through her hair. "It was obvious he was drunk off his ass, belligerent...reminded me of my old man."
Michonne looked up at him, surprised by the admission.
Rick didn't bring up his father very much, and she knew enough to know why. She also knew Rick worked very hard to be the complete opposite of the man that raised him.
"I don't want you or the kids anywhere near him," he continued, looking at her earnestly, "especially while I'm gone."
Michonne knew by the look in his eyes how serious he was. She brought her hand up to his hairline, smoothing his curls back. "We'll be fine," she assured him.
He caught her wrist in his hand. "Michonne."
"He's our neighbor. I'm not sure how we can avoid him entirely," she told him, attempting to be logical, "and, if he's as bad as you think then I'm really worried about Jesse and those boys, so I'm still going to reach out to her."
Rick sat up with a sigh, having figured as much. He rested his back against their headboard and looked down at her. "I know you wanna help, but you and our kids are my priority."
Michonne sat up as well, leveling him with a plain look. "I'm just going to invite her to come out for drinks with Maggie and the other girls. No reason for Pete to be involved in a ladies night, is there?"
Rick considered it for a long moment, then begrudgingly agreed. "I guess not."
She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered to him.
Rick sighed, nodding against her.
Michonne leaned over to see his face. "Is that all that's bothering you?" she asked, searching his eyes.
Rick squinted his eyes under her scrutiny. "Yeah," he assured her, and slowly disentangled from her.
Michonne narrowed her eyes, unsure if she believed him.
"I'm fine," he assured her, then shifted to push the comforters off his legs before swinging them over the side of the bed. "I'm going to get ready for my run."
Michonne watched him stalk towards their closet, sensing there was something else he wasn't telling her. Before she could think too much about it, there was a tiny knock at their bedroom door.
"Come in," she knowingly called over.
The door cracked open and Maya poked her tiny head through the opening. "Morning Mommy!"
"Good morning, Munchkin," she greeted in return as Maya bounded towards her.
Maya leaped onto the bed, giggling loudly as she fell into the pillows and blankets. Michonne snorted at her nosedive and playfully bobbed the top of her head with a pillow.
"What's all this commotion?" Rick asked, pulling a t-shirt over his head as he emerged from the closet.
Maya popped her head up from the blankets. "Morning Daddy," she said with a wide smile, then she noticed the suitcase situated just outside the closet door. "Are we going on vacation?" she asked, excitedly looking back and forth between her parents.
Rick and Michonne exchanged a puzzled look until Michonne followed her daughter's gaze and made a face of chagrin. "Not quite."
Maya pointed to the suitcase, confused. "Then, what's that for?"
Michonne pressed her lips together, shifting her gaze back to Rick.
"It's for a business trip, sweetheart," Rick told her, approaching the bed. "I'll be going alone, but it's only for a few days."
Maya frowned. "But, I wanna go with you," she whimpered.
"I know," he said, scooping her up into his arms, "but, I'll be back before you know I'm gone."
As Maya clung to him as if he were leaving right this minute, he turned to Michonne for help.
Michonne chuckled lightly. "All right, Maya, let Daddy come up for air."
"No!" Maya protested, hugging Rick's neck tighter.
"What if I promised to bring you something back?" Rick offered, grunting under his daughter's tight grasp.
Maya immediately pulled back. "Like what?"
Rick chuckled at how easily she could be swayed. "I'll find something good, don't worry."
Maya tapped a finger to her chin, causing her laugh as she contemplated. "Okay," she said slowly, "something really good."
Rick nodded. "You have my word."
Maya turned back to Michonne. "Get out of bed, Mommy, we gotta get dressed!" she urged her as Rick set her down.
"Yes ma'am," Michonne murmured, pushing herself to her feet.
"That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Rick admitted before she could pass him.
Michonne snorted. "It's cute that you think that's the end of it," she said over her shoulder as she followed after their daughter.
Rick shook his head, knowing she was probably right, as he headed out of the room.
"Ron! Sam! Breakfast is ready!" Jesse called up the stairs as she leaned over the bannister.
She turned to see Pete still passed out on the living room sofa behind her, and rolled her eyes as she made her way back into the kitchen.
A few moments later, Ron ambled down the steps, shrugging on his backpack as he went. He spared his father only a passing glance before heading inside the kitchen.
"What are you doing?" he asked, warily eying his mother as she fussed around the stove.
Jesse turned with a smile and raised her spatula. "Making breakfast, obviously."
Ron arched an eyebrow. He knew his mother's culinary skills weren't the best, which was why they tended to stock up on quick fix meals instead of relying on her cooking.
"Thanks, but I'll pass," he muttered, glancing at what he assumed was some kind of omelet sizzling in the pan.
"Don't be silly, it's almost done," Jesse told him, attempting to flip the concoction over.
Ron reached inside the pantry and pulled out a granola bar. "Dad went on a binger again," he said in a low voice, turning back to his mother. "He almost got into it with Mr. Grimes."
Jesse shot her eyes up to him in horror. "What?"
"I got him inside the house before it could go too far, but..."
Jesse inhaled deeply, shifting her gaze back down. "I'm sorry you had to do that."
Ron frowned. "I thought this place was supposed to be different."
"It is," Jesse hurried to say, "it will be."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, furrowing his brows together.
"Don't worry about it," she said, scooping her eggs into a serving dish. "Where's your brother?"
Ron eyed her suspiciously before answering. "Upstairs. He said he wasn't feeling well."
Jesse set aside the pan, then brushed her hands off against her jeans. "I'll go get him."
When she arrived at Sam's bedroom door, she was unsurprised to find it closed.
"C'mon buddy, you're gonna be late," she said, knocking at the door.
It didn't take long for Sam to appear in the doorway, looking up at her with pitiful eyes. "I don't feel very well," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "Can I stay home today?"
Jesse pushed the door open wider, and reached forward to touch his forehead. "You don't feel warm. What's wrong?" she asked, suspecting she already knew the answer.
"I have a headache," he told her.
Jesse reached down to run her fingers through his hair. "Come downstairs and get something to eat, and I promise you'll feel better. But, you're not staying home from school today, Sam. Now hurry up and get dressed."
Sam frowned at her as she turned to head back downstairs, then begrudgingly turned back in his room to change his clothes.
A few minutes he was dressed slowly making his way downstairs. He noticed his father snoring loudly on the soda as he passed by, and sighed heavily as he continued into the kitchen.
"Is Dad staying home today?" he asked.
Jesse didn't respond as she prepared their plates.
Sam flared nose at being ignored. Then he noticed Ron at the island counter, scrolling through his phone and slowly made his way to sit next to him. "Where were you last night?" he asked him.
Ron glanced in his direction. "At a friend's house."
"Which friend is that?" Jesse asked, presenting them both with a plate.
"Just across the street," Ron muttered, frowning down at his plate.
"Maybe next time you can take your brother," Jesse suggested, nodding her head in Sam's direction. "The Grimes and the Fords have boys around his age."
Ron looked over at Sam, watching him push the food around his plate with disinterest. Unlike his mother, he knew better than to force his little brother into social interactions.
"Maybe," he eventually said, if only to satisfy her.
"Well, come on, eat up," Jesse urged them, resting her hands on her hips.
Ron pushed back from the counter. "Thanks, but we're gonna be late if we don't leave soon," he said, picking up his backpack from the floor. "C'mon Sam."
"But...are you sure?" Jesse trailed, watching as Sam started after his brother.
"Yeah," Ron said over his shoulder as he reached the front door, "thanks anyway."
"Bye, Mom," Sam added, meandering after his brother.
Jesse huffed down at their abandoned plates, before following them out. She caught up to them just in time to see Ron pass Sam a granola bar. Despite herself, she smiled. "Make good choices!" she called, waving after them.
Sam waved back half-heartedly, and then they both disappeared around the corner.
Jesse lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, her thoughts centered on her boys and the effects her life decisions had on them. It seemed Sam suffered more outwardly than Ron, but she was glad that no matter what happened in the end, they would have each other.
From his place on the sofa, Pete let out a low moan as he covered his eyes from the sunlight streaming through the doorway onto his face.
Jesse shifted her eyes in his direction, barely keeping the disdain in check. She looked back at the door, and slammed it shut with a little more force than necessary.
"God damnit!" Pete cursed from the noise as he struggled to get his bearings.
The corner of Jesse's mouth lifted a little and she wordlessly made her way back into the kitchen.
She glumly looked down at the plate she had made for herself, and picked up her fork only to drop it a moment later, unable to find her appetite.
Without Ron or Sam around, it was harder to go through the motions.
Instead she collected the untouched plates and discarded their contents in the trash, then proceeded to clean the rest of the kitchen. Her mind wandered in the monotony of the task, drifting back to the stranger on her doorstep from the day before, and his proposition he laid before her.
Yesterday
Jesse stared at the man before her, and against her better judgement she backed away, opening the door further for him to step inside.
Milton crossed the threshold and subtly appraised the interior of her home with his eyes. "Nice place you have here," he said politely.
Jesse looked around at the scattered boxes in her living room, and made her way over to clear a path. "Sorry, we're just getting settled in," she apologized. "Can I get you anything? Coffee or water?"
"Water would be great. Thank you."
Jesse cleared a space on the sofa and gestured for him to have a seat. "I'll be right back."
Milton watched her scurry away, then looked around the sparsely decorated home. He saw something out of the corner of his eye in the nearby staircase, and turned to see a child observing him.
He waved, but the kid took off.
"Here you go," Jesse said, returning a moment later with a glass of iced water in hand.
"Your son?" he asked, nodding his head upward as he accepted the glass.
Jesse followed his gaze and nodded. "My youngest, Sam. He's shy."
Milton nodded, taking a seat as Jesse did the same on the other end of the sofa. "I was a shy kid too, he'll grow out of it eventually."
"So, how do you know Pete?" Jesse asked, wanting to get right down to why he was there in the first place.
Milton huffed a small laugh before sipping his water. "We used to work together," he said.
Jesse raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You're a doctor?"
"No," he replied with a light chuckle.
When he didn't say anything further, she frowned. "Where did you work?"
"Privately employed," he returned cryptically, "Pete was a medical concierge of sorts for my employer."
"Oh," Jesse murmured, surprised to learn that since Pete had never mentioned working privately before.
Milton considered her carefully, noting the fading bruise on under her eye visible despite the concealer she used to hide it. "You know, I've known Pete for a very long time," he began, shifting in his seat to face her. "He's good with his hands, but not the most delicate."
Jesse frowned at his word choice. She unconsciously started to reach a hand up to her face but thought better of it, and knitted her fingers together in her lap instead.
Milton offered her a friendly smile. "Let me start off by saying, I'm here to help you, Mrs. Anderson. Well, more accurately, I believe we can help each other."
Jesse eyed him warily. "In what way?"
"How much do you know about your husband's professional life?" he asked.
Jesse blinked in confusion. "Not very much. Pete likes to keep his home and work life separate," she said, unsure where this question was going.
Milton titled his head, eyeing her cautiously before asking his next question. "So, I assume you weren't aware that he was forced to stop practicing medicine for a number of years until recently?"
Jesse's eyebrows disappeared behind the fringes of her hair at his revelation. She began to slowly shake her head in rebuttal. "No, that's not...that's right."
"I assure you it is," Milton confirmed, nodding his head. "He botched what was supposed to be a simple procedure, the result of which could have been very detrimental to my employer. As a consequence of his malpractice, Pete was unable to practice anywhere, privately or otherwise."
"W-when was this?" Jesse asked, not able to believe what she was hearing.
"A little over eight years ago."
Jesse froze in place. The timeline matched up with a particularly hard point for their family. It was the first time Pete had become violent with her. Enough to induce her pregnancy with Sam four weeks early, putting both their lives in jeopardy.
"Mrs. Anderson?"
Jesse looked back at Milton with distress written all over her face. "I don't understand. Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Pete continues to be a liability," Milton told her frankly, "he's gotten himself into something that could be damning for my employer and for you and your family if it were to get out."
"What do you think he's done?" she asked, her voice trembling as she was unsure if she really wanted to know the answer.
"Your husband is a dangerous man, and for a very long time he's kept the unspeakable he's done hidden from you. And until recently, he's become reckless."
Jesse's eyes automatically wandered over to the locked basement door. Milton followed her gaze, then looked back at her curiously.
"What do you think he's done?" she asked again, this time her voice was more detached than before.
Milton cleared his throat lightly. "Have you heard about the missing person's case in the news?"
Jesse frowned, snapping her eyes back in his direction. "You think he's the one who took that woman?"
"He's done it before, but she got away," he said, surprising her even more. "For whatever reason he's tempting fate again."
His answer hung heavy in the air between them. Milton remained silent, allowing Jesse the time to digest his words.
"Who is your employer?" she asked, after a moment.
Milton waved a dismissive hand. "That's not important."
Jesse narrowed her eyes at him. "You show up on my doorstep with accusations about my husband, the least you can do is tell me who sent you."
"What's important is that they're willing to help you, if you're willing to help them."
Jesse knitted her brows together. "Help how?"
"No one can get closer to Pete than you," Milton told her, "once he's taken care of, my employer will provide financial compensation. Enough so you and your boys won't have to worry about a thing."
"You want me to kill him?" Jesse whispered in shock.
"What I want has little to no consequence here," Milton replied easily. "This is about you and your children, and what's best for them."
Jesse bit down nervously on her lower lip as she considered his words.
Milton reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. "Every day, the police are getting closer and closer to uncovering the truth. And once they do, my offer expires."
He placed his business card on the coffee table beside the glass, when Jesse didn't move, he cleared his throat. "I'll see myself out."
Present Day
Jesse reached inside her back pocket and pulled out the business card Milton had left behind, containing only his name and phone number.
When she heard Pete's heavy footfalls making their ways towards the kitchen, she hurriedly pushed the card back in her pocket.
"The boys gone already?" he asked over a loud yawn, scratching his hair as he entered the kitchen.
Jesse glanced over her shoulder at him. "They left a little while ago."
"Remind me to tell them not to slam the god damn the next time," he muttered, turning on his heel to go upstairs.
Jesse listened to his retreating footsteps with bated breath as she drummed her fingers anxiously against the countertop.
She hasn't been alone with Pete since her conversation with Milton. The ramifications of which were only starting to make their appearances known.
It was impossible not to believe Milton's story, not when his logic explained what was previously inexplicable. Which meant confronting the possibility that she had been sharing a roof with a criminal all this time.
And if that were true, then how could she justify her complicity?
Milton's business burned in her pocket. He was the only lifeline she had out of the web of lies Pete had trapped her in. The only problem was, she couldn't shake the feeling that she would break free from one trap only to be ensared in another.
"I'm gonna fail," Noah lamented, leaning back against a closed locker.
Carl snorted beside him. "The semester just started," he said, shoving his textbooks inside his own locker to exchange them for his gym bag.
Noah groaned in response. "I got Porter for AP Chemistry. I can barely understand the man on a regular day. Now that we're throwing the periodic table into the mix, it's a wrap."
"Is Porter notoriously hard or something?" Ron asked from the other side of him.
Carl chuckled as Noah shook his head. "The man is just odd."
Ron raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Noah sighed loudly, gesturing with his hand to make his case. "I asked him a question about the homework, and it turned into a nearly twenty minute conversation about sorghum!"
Ron raised an eyebrow. "You had homework on sorghum?"
"No!" Noah proclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. "The homework was on the phases of matter, and I still didn't get my question answered."
Carl patted his back reassuringly. "You can always ask Google."
"I'm screwed," Noah muttered, lightly banging his head back against the locker while Carl and Ron laughed at his dismay.
"It won't be that bad, man," Carl said as he closed his locker, "you got four whole quarters to get through."
"This is junior year, not a football game," Noah muttered, rolling his eyes.
Carl shrugged, and closed his locker to lean against it. "The analogy still stands."
Noah shook his head with a light laugh. "I need a stress-break. Think Daryl will let us take out the ATVs this weekend?"
Ron perked up at the option. "ATVs?"
"Can't this week," Carl told them, shaking his head, "my dad's going out of town so I promised my mom I would stick around."
"Yeah right," Noah scoffed, "you sure you aren't just blowing us off to hang out with your girlfriend again?"
Carl huffed a little laugh. "How many times do I have to tell you, Enid isn't my girlfriend?"
"And how many times do I have to tell you, my eyes work better than your lies," Noah told him flatly.
Carl glanced sideways at his friend. "Ron hung out with us last night. You could've come over, too."
"How did you like being a third wheel?" Noah asked in jest, rolling his eyes over in Ron's direction.
"Ignore him," Carl said before he could answer.
Unsure of what to say, Ron took his advice and stayed out of it. If he were being honest, he hoped there was nothing going on between the two anyway.
"Okay, since you want to live in denial," Noah began, leveling Carl with a plain look, "say, hypothetically, Ron were interested in Enid. You'd be cool with him asking her out?"
Ron jerked his head, taken off guard at being mentioned in this scenario, then shifted his gaze to Carl, also wanting to know the answer to that question.
Carl just shook his head with a chuckle as he pushed off the lockers. "You know, all this interest in my alleged love-life won't help you pass AP Chemistry."
Noah laughed, too, as he and Ron fell in step beside him. "Whatever man. When she gets an actual boyfriend, don't come crying to me."
Carl glanced at him sideways. "I thought that's what friends are for?"
"Then, as your friend, I'm telling you to quit dragging your feet and just ask her out already." Noah insisted, then he turned to Ron on the other side of him for back up. "You agree with me, don't you?"
Ron blanched slightly. "If he isn't interested-"
"Oh, he's definitely interested," Noah interjected.
"I'm gonna be late for class," Carl told them as he broke off from their group. "See you guys later."
"You can't run away from the truth, man!" Noah called after him.
"I'm not running from the truth, just getting away from you!" Carl hollered back, disappearing around the corner.
Michonne: I'm thinking of inviting Jesse out to the wine bar with us.
Sasha: Why?
Ellen: Be nice, Sasha.
Michonne: I think she could use a good girls night.
Sasha: As long as she leaves Lurch at home, I'm cool.
Michonne: LOL! Not Lurch
Maggie: That's sweet of you, Chonne. Definitely invite her.
Ellen: I agree, I liked Jesse.
Michonne: Me, too. It'll be fun!
Sasha: At least this way she can order her own drink. I still cannot get over that shit.
Maggie: Yeah...hopefully she can let her hair down this time.
Michonne: That's the plan! Okay, I'll text her and let her know.
Ellen: Just add her to the GC
Sasha: Woah. Baby steps, El.
Maggie: LMAO!
Michonne: I don't think she's ready for this chat.
Maggie: I don't think she's ready for Sasha.
Ellen: She'll learn just like the rest of us.
Sasha: Y'all make me sound high maintenance!
Maggie: Who's gonna tell her?
Sasha: Fuck, y'all.
Michonne: Love you more! Ttyl
Michonne shook her head with a grin as she set her cell phone aside to turn back to her computer.
She was unsurprised to see Maggie strolling inside her office door a moment later.
"Hey you," she said, turning in her chair to greet her friend and colleague.
"So, you and Jesse must be getting along," Maggie returned, settling into one of the reception chairs across from Michonne's desk.
"I haven't seen her much," Michonne admitted, "but, I know she's a stay-at-home mom so I thought it would be nice for her to come out with us."
Maggie scoffed, reclining back in her seat. "Dealing with her husband every day is enough of a reason, if you ask me."
"Speaking of...he had words with Rick last night," Michonne revealed with a sigh.
Maggie widened her eyes in surprise. "He didn't!"
Michonne nodded her head. "Rick wouldn't tell me everything and I didn't hear what was said, but I saw."
Maggie furrowed her brows in concern. "He probably didn't want you to worry," she said, but she could tell by the look on Michonne's face made clear he had the opposite effect.
"I've been thinking about Jesse and those boys. Rick doesn't want me to get more involved than I need to be, but if she really needs help then I want to help her."
Maggie considered her friend for a moment, then smiled a little. "You always were the thoughtful one," she said, then laughed when Michonne rolled her eyes. "But Rick makes a good point, there's no need to welcome someone else's problems into your home."
"Well, I have no intention of doing that," Michonne told her honestly.
"Good. Just tread carefully, Chonne," Maggie advised as she stood to her feet. "I better go get some work done, I have court this afternoon."
"Good luck," Michonne called after her before reaching for her cell phone again.
As Maggie pulled her office door closed behind her, Michonne scrolled down to Jesse's contact. They had exchanged information the day of the cookout, but it was her first time dialing the number.
"Hello?"
"Hi Jesse, it's Michonne. How are you?"
"Michonne? Hi! This is unexpected."
"I've been meaning to call you," she said, relieved to hear that Jesse at least sounded like she was okay, "the girls are getting together to go to a wine bar tomorrow night, and we were hoping you'd join us."
"Really? That's so nice, I'd love to!"
"Great, I'll text you the details or if you want you could just ride with me."
"Sounds good! Thanks, Michonne."
"Talk to you later, Jesse."
Michonne ended the conversation feeling a little better knowing Jesse at least sounded okay. While she still had her suspicions about what actually goes on behind her neighbor's closed doors, she would need more than her own assumptions to prove otherwise.
She hoped that if Jesse really was in trouble, getting her out of the house for a few hours may be the first step to getting her out of a bad situation for good.
Rick pulled up to his home after running some last minute errands to prepare for his trip. After he was finished, he decided to spend the rest of the day working from home.
As he stepped out of his truck, he noticed Pete walking out of his home across the street.
The interaction from the night before still lingered in the back of his mind. Not one to avoid confrontation, Rick decided to make his way over.
"How you doing, Pete?" he asked as he neared.
Pete looked up as he made his way down his driveway. "Hey, Rick."
"Do you have a minute?" Rick asked, pausing at the foot of their driveway.
Pete exhaled a little laugh as he opened his truck door. "Not today, I'm afraid I'm running late."
"This won't take long," Rick assured him.
Pete sighed, and passed his truck to meet him at the end of the driveway. "All right. What can I do for you?"
Rick squinted his eyes. "I wanted to talk to you about last night."
Pete frowned. "What about last night?"
"Do you always drive when you're that intoxicated?" Rick asked, tilted his head to the side.
Pete chuckled. "What are you narc?"
"It was obvious you had too much to drink, and my son was on the road last night. Someone could have been hurt," he said, fighting to keep his attitude in check over Pete's dismissiveness.
"Yet no one was," Pete said, growing impatient with the conversation.
Rick clenched his jaw in agitation. "Are you serious right now?"
"Look, I'm sorry about your kid. But, if no one was hurt, I really don't know why you're here," Pete said, turning to head back up his driveway.
"Are we gonna have a problem, Pete?"
Pete turned on his heels to stalk back towards an unflinching Rick. "I don't know. Are we?"
Both men assessed each other with only a few feet between them. The tension, however, was palpable.
"Pete? What's going on?" Jesse asked, opening the front door to see the glare exchange.
"Nothing," Pete called back to her, without looking away. "Rick was just leaving."
Rick eyed him a moment longer, then exhaled a laugh under his breath. "Hi Jesse," he said, offering her a friendly wave.
"Hey Rick," Jesse returned, easing out of the house with a confused look on her face.
Rick nodded, then turned back to Pete. "I'd try and hold my liquor a little better, if I were you," he said, just low enough for him to hear.
"Or what?" Pete challenged him, stepping closer.
Rick eyed up slowly, then smirked as he turned on his heels. "We'll find out."
As he walked away, he could hear Pete get into his car and slam his door. The frustrated sound was enough to satisfy Rick for the moment, and he continued back towards his own home.
"Rick, wait up!"
He turned to see Jesse rushing across the street towards him just as her husband pulled off. He stopped and waited for her at the edge of his driveway.
"I'm sorry about Pete," she apologized breathlessly as she caught up to him, "Ron told me what happened last night. I'm mortified."
"You're more apologetic than he was, that's for sure," he said, causing her to duck her head as she blushed, "but, don't worry about it. How are you?"
She looked up at him, surprised he would ask. "Well, besides being utterly embarrassed, I'm okay I guess."
Rick nodded. "That's good to hear."
Jesse exhaled, blowing her bangs out of her face. "I don't know what Pete said, but I'm sure he was out of line."
That was understatement in Rick's opinion.
"Look, I know it's none of my business, but, is everything okay with Pete?" he asked.
Jesse's shoulders dropped slightly as the question momentarily broke through her façade. "Yeah," she said softly, "he's just stressed with the move and everything."
Rick tilted his head, not buying the excuse but unwilling to press much beyond that.
"I talked to Michonne today," Jesse told him, brightening up at the change in topic. "She was kind enough to invite me out with her tomorrow night."
Rick nodded, happy to let the subject drop. "She told me she would," he said, "I'm sure you guys will have a good time."
Jesse laughed a little. "I haven't been out in ages, the boys keep me busy, you know? I haven't no idea how you guys manage with your crew."
Rick chuckled. "We have a pretty good system worked out."
"Yeah, you guys make a good team," she said with a small smile.
Rick could hear the sadness in her tone, and he felt bad knowing she couldn't say the same.
Jesse shook her head, and forced a brighter smile. "I should get out of your hair, I'm sure you're busy. I just had to come over here and say something after what happened between you and Pete."
"Don't worry about it," Rick assured her.
She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll see you around, Rick."
Rick nodded and she turned to leave, but then turned around again before crossing the street. "Michonne's really lucky to have you, Rick." she said in parting.
Rick shrugged, shaking his head. "I'm the lucky one."
She smiled and turned away with a single tear escaping from her eye. As she crossed the threshold inside her home, she made way upstairs.
Even though the house was empty, she closed and locked her bedroom door for good measure. Then, she pulled out her cell phone and Milton Mamet's business card.
Coach Douglas blew the whistle, signaling that it was time for the practice scrimmage to commence between the varsity and junior varsity teams.
Andre was more than ready. He knew from watching Carl that the coach used these practices to assess the strengths and weaknesses of his players.
While the varsity team tended to have a skillset advantage over their younger peers, Andre knew this was his opportunity to stand out.
He was literally bouncing from the excitement.
"Don't be cocky," Carl warned, eyeing him warily.
"Yeah, yeah," Andre scoffed as he shoved his helmet over his head. "Watch and learn from me, for once." He tossed up a two finger salute as he jogged onto the field to line up with the rest of the JV offensive line.
From behind him, Carl could hear someone snickering. He turned to see Enid smirking at him as she rested her elbows over the fence dividing the field from the bleachers.
"What's so funny?" he asked, breaking away from the sidelined players to approach her.
Enid shook her head, still grinning. "You were like that once," she recalled.
Carl ducked his head in a blush. "Shut up."
"It's true," she teased, "back when you were a scrappy underclassman."
"You come out here to cheer me on or make jokes?" he asked, laughing under his breath.
Enid sighed and looked over her shoulder. "Neither, actually," she said, returning her gaze to him. "I'm supposed to be meeting my study partner here."
Carl arched an indignant eyebrow. "I thought I was your study partner?"
"For the classes we have together, you are," she assured him, "but, you elected not to take French."
"Because there were much better electives to choose from," he maintained evenly. "So, who's my replacement?"
"Running late, that's for sure," Enid muttered, causing him to grin.
Coach Douglas blew the whistle again before addressing the sideline. "Huddle up," he called over, "we're switching out after this next drive.".
Carl turned back to Enid. "Gotta go, but come over later."
She shook her head with an apologetic smile. "I have to study for this French quiz. Rain check?"
He nodded, jogging backwards. "Call me when you're done with your 'study partner'," he said using air quotes.
"'I will'," Enid returned in the same fashion.
He grinned and turned around to join his team.
Just as he arrived at the huddle, he caught sight of Ron exiting from the school and rushing down towards the bleachers. As he hurried over to Enid's side, Carl realized that this was his replacement.
"Grimes! Are you paying attention?" the coach snapped, jarring Carl out of his own thoughts.
He mentally kicked himself for being called out, and jerked his head in a nod. "Yes, sir!"
The coach eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "Good, because this year's JV ain't half bad. So focus, unless you want to get embarrassed out there."
Carl nodded again, and the coach continued explaining his rundown of their next drive. But as he spoke, Carl couldn't help but notice Enid and Ron as they started to leave.
He wasn't sure why the sight bothered him. But as he tried to put it off in the back of his mind, he couldn't help remembering Noah's earlier words.
"When she gets an actual boyfriend, don't come crying to me."
It wasn't something that bothered him before, after all they were just friends. Maybe even best friends.
So then, why did watching her leave with someone else, however innocent, make him feel this way?
"Oh, something smells good in here," Michonne complimented as she entered the kitchen.
"Hi Mommy," RJ greeted, looking up from his task of sprinkling shredded cheese on top of a casserole dish of macaroni noodles while Maya assisted from her step stool next to him.
"We're helping Daddy make dinner," Maya informed her proudly.
Michonne smiled at them, as she set her purse and briefcase aside on an empty stool. "I can see," she said, leaning between the pair to kiss them both on the cheek. "And, where is Daddy?"
"Right here," Rick announced, entering the kitchen through the patio glass, carrying a tray of grilled ribs in his hands. "Thought I'd make my specialty tonight."
Michonne grinned at him as she turned around. "I'm not gonna complain about that."
He set the main course on the island counter, and wiped his hands off on a dishcloth before reaching for her. "Did you have a good day?" he asked, encircling her in his arms.
"Mmhmm," she hummed, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly.
"We're finished!" RJ cried out, interrupting their moment.
Rick squeezed Michonne's sides, then released her to check on their work. "That is a lot of cheese," he observed with a light chuckle.
RJ turned to him. "Too much?"
"No!" Maya protested. "It's just right! Right, Mommy?"
Michonne leaned over to see for herself, and nodded in agreement. "I'm with the Munchkin on this one."
"You heard the ladies," Rick said as he patted RJ's shoulder. Then, he reached over to pick up the dish, and carried it over to place inside the oven to bake.
"Can we go outside?" RJ asked, looking to his mother as she helped Maya down from her stool.
Michonne looked at Rick, who nodded in return and both children promptly headed for the backyard through the patio door.
Michonne watched them go, then rolled her eyes in Rick's direction. "A lot of extra hands in my kitchen lately," she mused, resting her chin in her palm.
Rick huffed a laugh. "They offered to help, and it's one less thing for you to do," he reminded her as he ventured into the pantry.
"Which I appreciate," she returned with a smile.
"It also gave me an excuse to use the grill again," he sheepishly admitted, reemerging with a bottle of red wine.
She snorted, getting up to retrieve two wine glasses from the cabinet. "As if you need a reason."
He grinned as he uncorked the bottle, then proceeded to pour them each a glass.
"I talked to Jesse today," Michonne mentioned, "she's going to come out with the girls tomorrow night."
"I heard," he replied, sliding a glass in front of her. When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged. "I talked to her after my attempt with Pete."
"You talked to Pete?" she asked, surprised.
"Attempted," he clarified, "I wanted to see what he had to say for himself."
Michonne knitted her brows together in concern. She knew her husband wasn't the most tolerant man nor was he one to shy away from confrontation. Although he rarely acted without being provoked, it worried her that the feud with the neighbor didn't seem to be deescalating.
"I didn't go over there to start trouble," he said, reading her expression. "I actually wanted to try and smooth things over."
"And, how did that work out?" she asked. Rick's eye roll was her response and she exhaled a dry laugh. "There goes the neighborhood," she muttered into her glass, only half joking.
"I'll play nice as long as he does."
Michonne exhaled, as she stood with her glass. "That's all I ask," she said, rounding the counter to his side. "Thank you for trying," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair.
He grunted in response as he leaned into her touch. "A lot of good it did."
She laughed softly. "Well, if nothing else, he learned Rick Grimes isn't someone to play with."
Rick snorted, grinning smugly. "Damn straight."
Milton entered the Blake campaign headquarters expecting to see the usual chaos underway. Even though it was after normal business hours, with the election just a few short weeks away he expected the place to be bustling with activity. So, he was incredibly confused to find it was almost entirely empty.
There was a dim light emanating from the head office, and he slowly made his way towards it.
"Oh good, you're here," he breathed, relieved to find Philip still there. "Anderson's wife called to tell me she's in," he explained, walking further into the space, "I provided her with the instructions we discussed, and she assured me it will all be handled this weekend."
It was good news, or so Milton thought.
They had been waiting on pins and needles for Jesse Anderson to come around on their offer, and now she finally agreed. He had hoped the news would land with a much more positive effect than it seemed to.
Philip remained unmoved, standing with his back to Milton, and both hands planted firmly on either side of his desk. He was tense, almost as if the very air around him crackled with his anger.
It gave Milton pause. "Sir? Did you hear what I said?"
"Jesse Anderson agreed to our terms," Philip relayed in an eerily calm voice.
Milton frowned. "You don't seem relieved to hear that, sir."
"Relieved?" Philip scoffed. "Is that what I'm supposed to be?"
Milton slowly edged closer, realizing Philip's attention was focused almost entirely on an opened package in the middle of his desk. "Is everything okay, sir?"
His eyes wandered from Philip's vacant expression down to the box in front of him, he regretted the decision to look almost instantly.
"Oh my god," he sputtered, quickly averting his gaze. But it was too late, the brief glance was enough to unsettle his stomach and he rushed to cover his mouth to contain his gagging.
Inside the package were two severed hands, interlaced together. Delicately placed in the center of the woven fingers was the unmistakable visage of a female's uterus. The blood was still fresh, and seeped through the white cloth encasing the pieces inside the box.
If it weren't so gruesome, it could almost be considered art.
Philip shifted his murderous eyes to Milton's terrified ones.
"Tell me again how the situation has been handled?"
A/N: We're getting there, slowly but surely. I appreciate your patience, I love your reviews! Thanks for sticking with me! xo