Willfully Ignorant Accomplices

Rick returned from inside City Hall with a manila folder full of papers. As he drove towards the police department, Beth glanced through them—pointedly avoiding looking out the window—and found multiple pages detailing the floorplan for all three stories of the Wiltshire Estate, including the extravagant garden that took up nearly an acre of land behind the manor itself.

Baffled, she asked, "Is this a hedge maze behind the house?"

Merle guffawed from the backseat. "A fuckin' hedge maze? Jesus, this is shapin' up to be a full-fledged Scooby Doo mystery."

"Yup," Rick confirmed. "Pretty crazy, huh? It's an historical landmark, so they've kept it in its original condition for the last, oh… hundred, hundred-and-fifty years or so." He chuckled. "Can't imagine how much hell those poor landscapers must go through."

"Holy crap," she whispered, staring at the papers spread out across her lap.

She and Daryl definitely had a lot of planning to do. But she couldn't quite worry about that yet. Rick was already pulling into the parking lot of their second and final stop.

On the outside, the Atlanta Police Department looked like any other administrative building, and Beth was familiar enough with it since she'd driven past it countless times over the years. But admittedly, she'd never had a reason to step foot inside. She was completely out of her depth here. It seemed Merle was less than keen on the idea of stepping into a building full of "stinkin' pigs," and when he didn't follow after her, she didn't give it a second thought. She figured he would show up eventually, if for nothing else, to meet the "nerd" that Rick had been talking on the phone with. And probably at the worst possible time, as he was prone to do.

Thankfully, Rick was confident enough for the both of them. He led her through the large glass doors and past all the hustle and bustle of the reception area, straight to the front desk, where his uniform demanded enough attention and respect to earn a polite smile from the receptionist sitting at her computer, and a cheery, "How can I help you, Sheriff Grimes?"

Beth stood back, meek and quiet, while Rick schmoozed like he was an old friend—and maybe he was. He explained that he'd come to meet with a member of the forensics team, and the receptionist happily grabbed a clipboard and a pair of visitors' badges. She slid it across the desk and turned her attention to Beth.

"And who's this? Your daughter?"

Rick laughed, signing his name on the check-in sheet before passing it over to Beth. "Lord, no. How old d'you think I am, Liz? My daughter's barely outta diapers. This is Beth, she's shadowing me for the day. Wants t'be a member of law enforcement herself. Figured I'd let 'er tag along an' see just how mundane the job can get 'fore she goes signin' herself up for a career in peacekeeping."

He winked at the receptionist—Liz—and Beth didn't miss the way the other woman blushed and giggled. "Oh, of course. How sweet! Well, I'd say she's learnin' from the very best." She still had her eyes locked on Rick, beaming, as Beth scrawled her signature and slid the clipboard back over. "How're things down in King County? Still quiet? I heard y'all have had a couple suspicious deaths lately."

Rick shook his head, his smile faltering. "Well then, it's not exactly quiet, is it? It's true. We can't seem t'get a hold on the drug problem. Takin' too many young lives. That's part'a why I'm here. Lookin' to get some solid advice from the real professionals. Maybe link up an' see if we can put some pieces together."

Liz took the clipboard back and put it away without so much as a glance at the signatures. Beth reckoned she could've signed her name as Ronald McDonald and this receptionist wouldn't have even noticed. But what she was really surprised by was Rick's charm. And how easily he was lying. Maybe he'd just been prepared, but she still couldn't get over how smoothly he talked when it came to schmoozing other members of law enforcement.

A second later, they were being handed laminated visitors' badges to clip onto their shirts. Before Rick walked away, Liz told him, "Maybe you should stop by an' have a word with Sergeant Ford. I'll bet he's got some good advice fer that small town drug problem yer dealin' with."

Rick flashed her a dazzling smile and said, "That's not a half-bad idea. Thanks, Liz."

As they headed for an elevator nearby, they passed another receptionist at the end of the desk who was heatedly slamming down a phone and turning to her coworker to complain, "That goddamn IT guy just left an' Ford wants me to call him back already. Christ, what the hell does he think those people are capable of? I told him—"

But then the elevator dinged and Rick was placing a gentle hand on Beth's back to get her attention and guide her inside, where they squeezed in with a few other employees. Beth remained quiet, keeping her eyes low. Though she couldn't resist the urge to check each person's shirt for identification, whether they be police badges or visitors' laminates.

Now that she'd gotten the idea into her head, she couldn't quite shake it. Because what if it was true? What if The Veil was thinning so much that she was seeing every ghost on this plane? And how bad would it get as Halloween approached? Would there come a point that she was surrounded by dead people? Would she be unable to decipher the living from the deceased? Or—

She was abruptly shaken from her thoughts by the loud ding! overhead.

"This is our stop," Rick muttered, ushering her out the doors with a couple of other people who appeared to be detectives returning from their lunch breaks.

Beth glanced up to see a hallway, and a windowed room before them that appeared to be some kind of bullpen for detectives, with a sign above it that read: Atlanta Homicide Division. Right beside it was another sign.

Floor 5: Homicide
( - - Forensics
Technology - - )

She was about to turn left, recalling what Rick had told Liz at the front desk, but he stepped right, so she quickly followed.

She kept her voice low as they passed by more law enforcement and various personnel, "I thought you told Liz we were seein' somebody in forensics?"

"It's still forensics," he quietly responded, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he followed the signs and they rounded a corner that took them down an even longer hall lined with mostly closed doors. "But I wasn't gonna tell her that we're seein' the technology guy. She's the biggest gossip in the building. Gonna be hard enough t'slip past her with whatever equipment we manage t'borrow."

Beth's eyes widened, but she snapped her mouth tightly shut.

Well, I'll be damned, she thought. Maybe Merle was right. Maybe Rick has a little more "bad cop" in him than any of us thought.

They rounded one more corner before coming to a dead end, and Rick led them to the second-to-last door on the left. He stopped in front of it and turned back to Beth.

"Alright, this is our guy," he explained in a hushed whisper. "I don't think I have t'tell you, but please: don't mention anything about dead guys or ghosts or murderers. We don't need any more unwilling accomplices in on this mess. Jus' let me do all the talkin', and put on the prettiest li'l innocent smile you can. Got it?"

Beth rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. "Got it, Sheriff Grimes," she said, only half-teasing.

He chuckled softly before turning and knocking on the door.

She saw the shiny silver nameplate plastered on the wall beside the door: Eugene Porter. And a second later, the door was opening to reveal a man who looked… well, to put it simply, nothing like she had imagined.

Rick smiled. "Good t'see ya again, Eugene."

"Hello, Rick Grimes," Eugene greeted, his voice deep and cordial, heavy with a southern accent—though it sounded more Texan than Georgian. His eyes fell on Beth and his thick black eyebrows furrowed. "Oh—I was not aware you'd have a guest accompanying you on this visit. Good afternoon, young lady."

Beth blinked in surprise, trying to take him in all at once. He was taller than Rick by only a couple of inches, with a husky frame, a chubby face, and dark brown hair cut into a mullet—an actual mullet. He appeared to be in his late 30s or early 40s, and though his expression was stoic and serious, there was a softness to his brown eyes that made him appear mostly trustworthy. He reached out and shook Rick's hand, then held it out for Beth to do the same.

A bit caught off-guard, Beth took his hand and shook it, offering a polite smile. But before she could speak, Rick introduced her.

"This is Beth—a family friend. She's shadowing me for the day. Thought I'd bring her along t'see what the bigwigs in the city get up to."

Eugene did a little bow of greeting, reaching up as if to tip his hat before remembering he wasn't wearing one and quickly returning his hands to his sides. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintanceship, Miss Beth. I'm Eugene Porter, head of technology for the Homicide Division of Atlanta Police Department. I graduated Valedictorian from Keller High School in Texas, and received my bachelor's degree from The University of Texas at Austin, where I then moved onto—"

"Alright, Eugene, she doesn't need yer whole resumé," Rick interrupted with an amused smile. "You could've stopped after the first sentence there, bud."

Eugene flushed pink and nodded. "Right, of course. My apologies. I have a tendency to ramble in the presence of new acquaintances." He offered Beth a warm smile and added, "Any friend of Rick Grimes is a friend of mine." He stepped aside and motioned for them to enter the room. "Please, step inside my office."

Rick, ever the gentleman, allowed Beth to enter first before following close behind. Eugene shut the door and walked around to roll out two wheely-chairs from where they sat beside his desk, offering seats for his guests. Beth took hers once Rick sat down, but her head was on a swivel, wide eyes gazing around the room in curiosity.

Eugene's office seemed to be just as eccentric as he was. The walls were decorated with framed diagrams of what looked to be computers and radios and other engineering sorts of things, as well as a couple of anime posters. The large desk held three huge computer monitors, all linked together, as well as an array of little gadgets and toys. More anime things, cartoon characters, and so on. A bookshelf off in the corner reached the ceiling, packed full of thick textbooks and notebooks and, yes, a few more action figures and toys. There were a couple of tables, one in the center of the room and one against the wall, which were both cluttered with paperwork and folders and what appeared to be components to various disassembled gadgets. There was even a mini fridge nestled into the far corner of the office, next to a closed closet door. Beth noticed a framed picture sitting atop one corner of the desk: Eugene, all dressed up for a professional photoshoot, with a very pretty brunette grinning beside him, proudly holding up her left hand to show off a sparkly engagement ring.

"May I offer you a beverage?" Eugene asked, eyes flicking from Rick to Beth and back again. He gestured towards his mini fridge in the corner. "Perhaps a cold, refreshing Mountain Dew?"

Rick held up a hand and politely declined, "No, thank you. We shouldn't be here long."

"I also have Diet Mountain Dew," Eugene added, looking to Beth.

She smiled meekly. "I'm okay, thank you."

Rick stifled a chuckle and casually asked, "How's Stephanie doin'?"

Eugene's eyes lit up as he replied, "Very well, thank you for asking. She is in exceptional health, both physical and mental. Though, I must admit, the wedding planning is provin' to be a cluster of mishaps and challenges."

Rick chuckled. "Jus' wait till the honeymoon. It'll all be worth it."

The other man smiled and nodded, blushing just the slightest bit. Then he leaned back against the edge of the cluttered table and said, "Well, I know you didn't come here to inquire about my mundane life. However, you were considerably vague when we corresponded. So how exactly can I be of assistance, Rick?"

Beth felt her own smile faltering as she watched Rick's mouth dip into a serious frown. He gave a curt nod and cleared his throat, folding his hands in his lap.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna have t'continue bein' vague, Eugene," he said. "I, uh… need some help. With an investigation."

Eugene's brows knit together and he seemed to be studying the Sheriff's expression with narrowed eyes. "Is this… highly classified information?"

"In a sense, yes," Rick confirmed.

Eugene nodded as though he understood, but he was glancing at Beth with doubt. "So… why is the young lady here, then?"

Rick paused, hesitating. "Well—"

Beth quickly interjected, "I'm good at keepin' secrets. That's part'a the job, isn't it?" She met Eugene's eyes with intent.

Eugene seemed to consider her words for a moment. Then he hmphed and said, "Indeed, it is." He looked back to Rick. "I am aware that I owe you more than a few favors. However, I'm afraid I cannot agree to any sort of matter that could possibly risk my current occupation. I understand we have a duty to the fair citizens of this city, but—"

"Just because it's highly classified doesn't mean it's illegal," Rick assured. "Trust me. This won't come back on you."

Eugene frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and gazing back thoughtfully. "That's quite the contradictory statement, Sheriff. If you don't have an official case file and at least one judge-issued warrant, I would say it's more or less illegal."

Rick sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and look up at Eugene with a stern, somewhat pleading, expression. "Look… I jus' need some equipment. A couple tracking bugs, a wire, maybe some earpieces for discreet communication. That's it."

Eugene's eyes grew wide. "That's it?" He repeated with a scoff. He shook his head. "No offense, Rick, but that is one hell of a substantial request. Every single piece of technology in my possession is heavily monitored by my superiors. If so much as an earbud goes unaccounted for, there is a tremendous amount of paperwork and an extensive investigation. I'm more than happy to oblige you—but only to a reasonable extent. I am not willing to risk either of our careers for a favor owed."

Beth's heart dropped and she looked to Rick desperately, hoping he had a far more convincing argument planned. However, judging by the look on his face, he'd thought it really would be that easy.

Rick let out a deep sigh and sat up straight, meeting Eugene's eyes with a stern expression. "Lemme ask ya somethin'... Since you started workin' in Homicide, how many murderers have you helped catch?"

Eugene paused. His eyes drifted towards the ceiling as he made a mental calculation. Then he shrugged and replied, "That's a complicated inquiry. Annually, there are an estimated twenty-point-two homicides in the city of Atlanta. In my six years, four months, and thirteen days with the department, I have personally assisted in compiling evidence for eighty-two individual homicide investigations."

Rick nodded. "Okay. So eighty-two murderers—"

"Ninety-one murderers," Eugene corrected. "If we're countin' the accomplices."

"Of course we are," Rick said. "So that's nearly a hundred murderers."

Eugene's eyes darkened, his frown deepening. "Not exactly. There were several repeat offenders."

"Right. Repeat offenders," Rick repeated grimly. "All the same, that's eighty-two victims. Eighty-two lives taken in cold blood. Eighty-two families left to mourn their lost loved ones."

This time, Eugene simply nodded and said, "Affirmative."

"So… lemme ask ya somethin' else." Rick cleared his throat. "How many of those murderers actually got sentenced? Repeat offenders or not?"

"How does that correlate with this discussion?" Eugene asked, his shoulders tensing and his arms tightening over his chest. "My duty is to supply the investigators with what they need to solve the crimes and arrest the perpetrators—not to ensure that said perpetrators face the full consequences for their misconduct."

Rick raised his eyebrows, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm aware. But you know that if those perpetrators aren't locked away for good—if they're not held accountable to the fullest extent—they're likely to take more lives. Innocent lives. You've seen it fer yourself."

Eugene's eyes darkened. He lowered his head, as if ashamed. With a soft grunt, he agreed. "Yes. I am very well aware of that grim fact. But there's only so far that the long arm of the law is capable of reaching." He raised his head and gave Rick a pointed look. "You know that as well as I do, Sheriff."

Rick sighed. "Listen, Eugene, I'm gonna be completely honest with ya here… there's a madman on the loose out there. He's responsible for three murders in my hometown—and those are just the ones I know of. He's readyin' to make it four. I have t'stop him. He's already been locked up once, but it wasn't enough. He was released and now he's layin' low. But he could strike at any moment. He's a danger to everyone."

Eugene worried his lower lip, staring back at Rick with a creased brow. Then he cleared his throat and said, "I don't quite follow. Why can't you make a case outta this? Go through the proper channels, attain the warrants you need, compile the evidence—"

Before Rick could argue, Beth burst out, "Because it's not that easy."

Both men seemed surprised by her interruption and turned their gazes on her. She swallowed hard, glancing to Rick apologetically, but he was looking at her like he was waiting for her to go on. And so was Eugene.

She met Eugene's eyes with determination and continued, "With all due respect, Mr. Porter, if we could've made an actual legal case out of this, we would have already. But the people he kills are the ones nobody cares about. He murdered a man and made it look like a suicide—no one batted an eye because the victim was a known troublemaker. Then he murdered another, and again, nobody thought twice or bothered to look into it just 'cause the victim was a junkie. And thirty years ago, he targeted a poor family in Senoia. It was an insurance scam, but nobody cared because they all thought the family was jus' trailer trash that got what was coming to 'em. Now he's back, and the only people who really know who he is are either dead or too terrified to speak up. We have ta stop him. We have to try to make an actual case out of this and bring him to justice, once an' for all."

Beth blushed lightly, afraid she'd made the situation worse or overstepped, but Rick just nodded and muttered, "Couldn't've said it better myself."

Eugene's eyes were wide and his face fell, taking in this new information. He blinked, looking from Beth to Rick and back again. Then he sighed and said quietly, "So you're tellin' me there's a murderer that preys on the impoverished and overlooked? And he's on the loose, right now, in the great state of Georgia?"

Rick and Beth both nodded.

"That's exactly what we're tellin' you," Rick said. "And I think you've been workin' with law enforcement long enough to know damn well that the price of takin' the 'completely legal' route is too high to risk. It'll be more innocent lives. It'll be piles of circumstantial evidence an' paperwork that wastes precious time and gets us nowhere. It'll be…" He paused, shrugging. "It'll be the life of one of my best friends. And I'm willin' to bet this asshole won't even stop there."

Eugene seemed to be contemplating this new information for a long moment, standing and staring at Rick and Beth in silence. Beth was tense and rigid, expecting him to admonish them for playing vigilante and shoo them away.

But then a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he huffed out a breath that almost sounded like amusement. He shook his head and uncrossed his arms. "So this is personal?"

Rick sighed as if defeated. "Yeah, Eugene. It's real personal."

Eugene smirked. "Well then. Why didn't y'all just say that to begin with?"

Beth let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, relief flooding through her every muscle. Rick perked up, beaming with hope.

"So," the Sheriff asked. "You'll help me out?"

Eugene shrugged. "I've always told myself that if I could do more to put these cold-blooded killers behind bars for good, I wouldn't pass up the opportunity. I still can't risk allowing access to official police-issued equipment, but I've got somethin' just as sufficient."

He turned around and crossed the room to the door on the other side, opening it up to reveal a rather large closet space packed full of boxes and equipment.

And when Beth turned her head to look at Rick, he looked back with a wide smile that mirrored her own.

Well, that was easy, she thought. Maybe a little too easy.

Just as Beth feared, it was indeed not easy. And not just because Merle decided to show up while Eugene was shoving a small cardboard box into Rick's hands.

"Oh, Christ," Merle remarked, scoffing and rolling his eyes while Beth fought to ignore him. "This guy really is a fuckin' nerd. What is that—anime?! And he's got a mullet? And y'all are gonna trust him with this? Best pray he's got some real useful shit."

She didn't risk so much as a scathing side-eye in the dead Dixon's direction as Eugene explained, "These were all outdated and defunct—as far as the Atlanta PD is aware, they're trash. But I fixed 'em up to working order. There's a couple wires for discreet recording, some earbuds for discreet communication, and two tracking bugs. All you gotta do is sync 'em with the devices of your choice. It's not much, but I trust that you'll make good use of some otherwise decommissioned equipment for… whatever it is y'all are planning."

Rick nodded and clutched the box in his arms, smiling gratefully. "I knew you'd come through, Eugene. Can't thank ya enough."

Eugene huffed out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, well… if anyone asks—especially if that anyone is Sergeant Ford—you didn't get 'em from me." He shot Beth a pointed look and reiterated, "I'm serious. If my superiors catch wind of such a discrepancy, I will not hesitate to play the plausible deniability card. When it comes to my career, my own ass is numero uno."

Before Rick could respond, Beth chimed in, "We were never here. I've never even heard of you."

Rick chuckled, but Eugene gave a nod of appreciation. "I appreciate that, Miss Beth. It was very nice to meet you, but all the same—I've never met you."

"Thank you, Eugene," Rick said. "This is gonna help more'an you know. I owe ya one."

Eugene quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, Sheriff, I believe you do. And I'll keep that in mind."

Merle rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest as he gave one last displeased glance around the room. "Wish I could still fart. I'd stink up this guy's office jus' fer bein' such a fuckin' dweeb."

Beth had to stifle a laugh and lower her head to hide the uncontrollable smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Oh my god," Merle said, smirking smugly. "Did I jus' make you laugh? Shit, blondie, never pegged you fer the type ta like toilet humor, but I'll take what I can get. 'Bout time ya stop bein' so damn stuck-up."

At that, Beth's smile quickly disappeared, and all she could do was roll her eyes and try her hardest to continue ignoring him while in the presence of mixed company.

A moment later, Rick said his final goodbyes and Eugene held the door open for them to leave. Rick passed the box over to Beth so he could shake hands with the other man and she cradled it in her arms, stepping out into the hallway.

But just as Rick stepped out, a deep voice boomed down the hallway, quickly followed by a rather large man with bright red hair. "Porter! Porter! Get out here!" He was barrelling down the hall towards them with a look of intent, hands clenched into fists at his side and frustration evident in his tone.

Rick hissed out, "Crap."

"Who's that?" Beth whispered.

Before Rick could answer, Eugene peeked his head out the door. "What's wrong, Sergeant Ford?"

Merle scoffed. "Great. It's the head pig in charge."

Sergeant Ford didn't offer Rick or Beth so much as a glance of acknowledgement as he approached, stopping right in front of the open door to Eugene's office. His face was nearly as red as his hair and finely groomed mustache. "That goddamn IT guy doesn't know what the hell he's doin'! I need you t'come take a look at my computer 'fore I throw the damn thing out the window."

Eugene stammered, "Uh, alright, sure. What seems t'be the problem?"

"It keeps glitchin' out, I dunno," Sergeant Ford said, struggling to lower his voice. "Damn thing is on the fritz. Won't stop takin' me back to Google Maps fer some godforsaken reason—" he paused abruptly, glancing over and spotting Rick trying to discreetly slip away. "Sheriff Grimes, 's that you? What're you doin' up here in the big city?"

Beth froze next to Rick, trying to turn her body away as she clutched the box in her arms in the hopes that the Sergeant wouldn't notice it.

"Oh, hey there, Abe," Rick greeted, putting on his most charming smile. "I was jus' stoppin' by t'have a chat with Eugene."

Sergeant Ford's eyes narrowed and flicked over to Beth, then to the box in her hands. He seemed to forget his frustration for the moment as he grew suspicious. "Huh, 's that right? What about? Y'all swappin' secrets or somethin'?"

Rick hesitated, exchanging wary glances with both Eugene and Beth. "Uh—"

"We were just pickin' up some stuff for the wedding," Beth chimed in, putting on her most innocent smile and directly meeting Ford's eyes. "I'm a wedding planner—an old family friend of Rick's. He said Mr. Porter needed some help from a real professional."

Merle let out a low whistle. "Yer gettin' pretty good at this lyin' thing, princess."

Rick flashed her a surprised and grateful smile as he went along with the lie. "Yup, jus' drove up on my lunch break t'see how we could help." He gestured to the box in her hands and chuckled. "Guess Stephanie's got more ideas than the poor guy knows what to do with."

Ford simply grunted, shrugging. "Sounds boring. But I'll be there." He looked back to Eugene. "You said there's gonna be an open bar, right?"

Eugene nodded. "That's correct."

"Alrigh', well," Ford said, patting Rick on the shoulder. "I'll see ya around, Sheriff. Stop by next time yer in town, maybe I can help ya figure out some'a those junkie deaths I've been hearin' about down in yer neck of the woods."

"Will do," Rick agreed as he urged Beth to start walking away.

They headed down the hall, away from Eugene and Abe, while their voices could still be heard as Abe ranted and raved about his malfunctioning computer and Eugene assured him that he'd come take a look at it. But just as they rounded the corner and Beth was about to let out a breath of relief, a woman with dark red hair came rushing towards them, an expression of frustration on her face and angry tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't offer them a glance, though, as she stormed right past them, yelling after Ford the whole time.

"Don't you walk away from me again, Sergeant Abraham Ford! If you'd just listen to me—pay attention t'what I'm trying to show you! Why won't anyone listen to me?! I'm tryin' to lead you stupid horses straight to the water, just take a fucking drink already!"

Beth stopped in her tracks, unable to resist the urge to turn and watch the woman stalk down the hall towards where Eugene and Ford were still talking in front of his office. And even though the red-haired woman was yelling so loud that it filled the entire hallway, neither of the men were paying her any attention.

Rick stopped a few steps ahead when he noticed Beth had fallen behind. He looked back to her quizzically. "Beth, c'mon. Let's get outta here 'fore anybody else starts askin' questions."

Beth met his gaze with furrowed brows. "But that lady is screaming at Sergeant Ford and he's completely ignoring her. Does she work here or somethin'?"

Rick stepped over and peeked down the hall before looking back to Beth, more confused than ever. "What lady?"

Merle cackled. "That hot piece'a ass? The one with the red hair? Is Officer Friendly suddenly blind, or—"

And then, at nearly the exact same moment, the realization dawned on both Beth and Merle. They looked at each other with wide eyes while Rick stood by, completely befuddled.

"Oh my god," Beth whispered. "Is she…"

Merle's eyes lit up with excitement and his mouth curled up into a mischievous grin. "I think she's dead, blondie."

Crap. So this really wasn't going to be so easy.

to be continued…