Rick managed a meeting with Gorman at Merle's bar on Wednesday after work. He shows the man a list of potential restaurants and bars for the investment he proposed, and the asshole seems pretty content that Rick's holding up his end of the deal. The fact that it can take two or three months to close on an active commercial property doesn't seem to phase him. Rick's just glad it buys him time on actually having anything to do with the man's dirty money.
The sergeant wanders back to his little cluster of buddies, leaving Rick to his baseball game. It's nearly six when Rick's phone buzzes, and he hopes his confusion isn't evident when he sees the message from Eugene: Dinner's on us tonight. Ask for Amber.
It's got to be code, and the message is probably from Jesus, not Eugene. Easier to send it from Rick's actual coworker, though. He maps the address that follows, seeing a restaurant not far from the Tech campus, a pizza and pasta place. It's easy enough to catch Beth on her way by with a tray of food and beer. She just flashes him a smile when he tells her he'll be back by closing to pick her up.
When he makes it to the car, he texts Amanda. Hear from PR today?
Yeah. Going for pizza on my way home.
That saves him letting her know, he supposes. He wishes he knew more, but since Jesus was supposed to be putting out careful feelers about the escort service, Rick can only assume this is related somehow. The drive doesn't take long, not at this hour, and Amanda's waiting for him when he arrives.
"Girl sitting at that four seater table near the window is watching the parking lot closely. I'm guessing she's waiting on us." Amanda pushes away from where she's been leaning on her car.
Rick can see why Amanda oriented on that particular girl, because the blonde is definitely a fresh faced coed type. Any other night, Rick would probably even think 'sorority girl', but he's not sure he can ever make innocent assessments like that again, not after meeting Joan. Holding the door open for Amanda, he watches as the girl waves them over.
Amber doesn't ask either of their names, so she either knows them or doesn't want to get more involved than she already is. She has a slight accent, something European that sounds like it's from the eastern side of things. Once they're seated and place an order to keep the waitress happy, the girl sighs.
"Our friend says that you're interested in helping girls like me." Whatever led Amber to this life, she's more disillusioned with the world than Joan was. Rick can see it in those tired blue eyes. "Helping Joan leave didn't help you much there, you know, on getting more information."
Thing is, Rick knew that helping Joan out was undercutting the operation, but he just couldn't bring himself to let her stay in Gorman's range of attention. It was the first time he truly understood why Shane always looked so haggard when he would come home from working with another agency. His best friend wouldn't have been able to pull strings so easily for any victims he saw. "Do you honestly think Joan was up to helping out like that?"
Amber smiles, a practiced expression that doesn't reach her eyes. "Not yet, she wasn't. She still had hope."
The pessimistic statement makes Amanda stiffen next to him. "She was too new to that world," his partner states.
It gets her a nod from Amber, who shifts her calculating gaze from Amanda to Rick. "And now she's out. You'll deny it was you, and I doubt Gorman would clue in. But he answers to someone far more astute. If I can get the same deal, I can do what Joan couldn't."
"You want your college expenses paid?" Rick asks, thinking it seems too simple. This girl's not naïve enough to think that's the solution to all her problems.
"I wouldn't say no to a special educational grant. But that won't help much if people like Gorman are still around. I want them gone, and I intend to help."
"Alright. What are we missing here?" Rick asks, exchanging a look with Amanda. Maybe they're a step closer to finding out who is employing Gorman and preying on these girls.
The smile on Amber's face is genuine this time, with an undertone of spiteful. The noose is about to tighten even further around the corrupt cop, all because just as Beth assessed, he forgets the 'help' when they're in the room.
Amanda thinks she ought to just offer to carpool with Rick. Amber spilled enough information that he'd insisted on an in-person meeting tonight, so she found herself following the other cop back out to Shane's house in the country. There's an eighties model Ford Bronco in the driveway that seems to be why Rick is grinning like a kid at Christmas.
"Do I want to know?" she asks. After the scene with Valerie at the ballgame, Amanda isn't sure she wants any surprises where Rick is concerned.
"Grandma Jean is here. I forgot she always comes out on Wednesdays after church."
Curious about Rick's boyish excitement, she follows him inside as Andre lets them in the front door. The boy giggles as Rick sweeps a petite woman who doesn't look like she's even five feet tall into a hug that has her completely off her feet. She's elderly, at least eighty, Amanda thinks, and dressed in an ankle length broomstick skirt with an orange blouse that matches some of the blooms on the skirt. Her white waist length hair is neatly plaited in a single thick braid.
"Oh, put me down, Rick Grimes, before you drop me." The protest is fond and affectionate, not serious, but Rick sets the woman down gently. She latches onto him in the way of older Southern ladies, turning him one way and the other assessingly. "You're too skinny. Working too much and not eating enough, I'll bet."
"I would never drop you, Grandma Jean, and I eat plenty."
"I notice you don't deny the working too much part. Just like my grandson, except now you don't have a woman keeping an eye out on you."
Andre nudges Amanda's elbow. "They have this exact same conversation, every single time," he tells her, pitching his voice below the still going banter between Rick and Jean.
Amused, Amanda thinks that Jean reminds her in some ways of her own adopted mother. They probably aren't that far apart in age. Mama McGinley almost hadn't been allowed to adopt Daryl because she turned fifty in between adopting Amanda and finally getting Daryl's father's rights terminated.
Eventually, Jean realizes Rick brought someone with him, and she turns the full force of her cheerful nature on Amanda. "Or maybe I spoke too soon on saying you don't have a woman keeping an eye on you?" she directs back at Rick.
He grins. "This is Amanda Shepherd. She's Daryl's younger sister. Amanda, this is Grandma Jean. Officially, she's Shane's grandmother, but unofficially, she's been looking after me since the first day I followed him home after school."
Jean snorts. "Followed him home? He makes it sound like it was a couple blocks walk. Boy sweet talked a bus driver into letting him ride home with Shane, fifteen miles out of town! You gotta watch this one. He's got a silver tongue on him."
Amanda can't help laughing, because Rick seems stuck between being proud of himself and slightly embarrassed at the last tidbit. "I had noticed as much."
"Have you two eaten? I just put supper away and was washing up my crockpot to take it home when I saw Rick pull up. Shane's in his office. Some crisis from work. Sounded like an incident at the detention center."
"We did eat before we came," Rick assures the older woman. "Did you bring cobbler?"
"I did. It's even healthy enough to suit your finicky tastes, my boy." She winks and goes to slide a container out of the refrigerator, doling out two servings. "Hasn't even had time to get chilled in there."
It would feel rude to refuse the offered plate, and honestly, Amanda's curious as to what sort of dessert would have Rick looking even more excited than he did about that pie Beth bought him. It's a cherry cobbler, and it's definitely different than the usual fare that Amanda wouldn't deem healthy. "It's really good," she compliments Jean from her seat at the small breakfast table.
"Grandma Jean has been converting her old recipes to make them healthier." It's Shane who explains, emerging from down the hall into the kitchen. "Her church is doing a heart healthy cookbook this year to raise money for their Christmas toy drive."
"It'll sell like hotcakes if we can get that naughty publisher to fall in line on pricing," Jean adds. "Vegan and gluten-free adaptation are so popular nowadays."
Amanda thinks she might want a copy, because if this is actually healthy, she might understand Rick's insistence on his eating habits. She notices that Rick's serving is gone when she's only half done with hers. It makes her wonder if he has a thing for tart desserts, just like he loves spicy foods.
"Send Michonne a text with the details. You know she'll be happy to make a phone call."
"We might end up with it being published for free is she gets ahold of that greedy man." Jean chuckles, reaching out to draw Andre close, even as she glances shrewdly between the three other adults. "Andre and I are going to go see if we can walk off our supper, while you three take care of whatever business brings cops together after hours."
As she ushers the boy away, Amanda realizes that Rick never introduced her as a cop, only as Daryl's sister. It makes her wonder if Jean knows something about her, although it wouldn't be surprising. As fond as the woman seems to be of Rick, she can picture Jean being attached to Carl, too, and the boy's the biggest gossip Amanda's ever met.
"Everything good?" Rick asks Shane.
"Just jailer being a dumbass. Third writeup from his sergeant, so he's out of chances." The other man just sighs as he goes to the refrigerator and retrieves a bottle of juice. "Ever thought about working the detention side of things, Amanda?"
She shakes her head, smiling. "I hate riding a desk enough as it is. Too much sitting between rounds in a jail." Shane and Rick's county has a modernized system on most of the units, with a deputy supervising from a station on a pod with open movement. Granted, a sergeant probably wouldn't be on the pod, but they'd just have a desk somewhere else. On patrol, she also sees the general public, not just detainees.
"Worth a shot. Best female sergeant we have is promoting out."
"Where's she going?" Rick asks, taking the cobbler plates to rinse and set in the dishrack.
"K9 unit. We got the funding finally to replace Yucca after he retired last March."
"Nice." Rick leans against the sink. "This new girl Jesus sent our way? She's been with the escort service longer. It's been around longer than he thought."
It doesn't take long for Rick and Amanda to relay the information Amber gave them. Gorman isn't new to the work, either, because he's been involved for the two and a half years Amber's been working for the service. She's never met the boss either, not directly, although she says their assumption that the boss is a woman might be wrong. It's just a hunch, though, or so she says.
"You think she knows more than she's telling?" Shane is mulling over Amanda's suspicion about Amber's level of knowledge.
"I'd almost bet my badge on it," Amanda tells him. "And I think she's probably older than the usual college age, maybe even close to thirty."
"Wouldn't be the first woman to go to college later than the norm," Shane notes, but he nods. "I'll have Eugene do a bit of digging around and see what he can find discretely. But you both picked up on an accent. Realistic or faked?"
"I won't rule out faked," Amanda tells him, "but it's something on the north end of eastern European, closer to Hungarian, I think." When both men look at her curiously. "I went to college with an exchange student from Romania. She explained the accent shifts in class one day. The further north, their English sounds more like the one actors base Dracula on. Head south, it speeds up and takes on more of a Turkish influence."
It doesn't reassure Shane in the least, and he paces a bit, obviously thinking something over. "Could it be Ukrainian?"
"I don't know, but the geography fits," Amanda replies, wondering why that specific suggestion.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Then this may end up going state level or even federal. There's been a growing criminal interest in Atlanta that traces to Ukrainian nationals. If they're behind the escort service, this is bigger than a handful of corrupt cops."
"We're already involved, Shane. Pulling out now could do more damage," Rick states. He looks at Amanda, who nods. She's sticking with it, too. "How much time do we have before you'd have to turn it over to someone higher up?"
"Another week to dig around, maybe. But you're too exposed to be going into something at that level. Cops going after cops is one thing, Rick. But this? This is the kind of shit that's why we have cooperative task forces, not just one department going after something." Shane is tense enough that Amanda is getting concerned. This is so much more than stopping Gorman from his abuses and extortions, along with his small cadre of buddies.
"Make the calls you need," she volunteers. "Get the alert out, but let us work it a bit longer."
"They'll probably agree to that since you're already established." Shane thinks it over. "Alright. I'll fill the Sheriff in. He may decide otherwise, but until I tell you to pull the plug, keep on as you have been. We have enough now to arrest Gorman and friends, but if they're involved with something more organized, then that's a lot more time behind bars."
With that decided, Amanda bids them both farewell. It's late enough that it'll be dark by the time she gets home, and it's been a long week already. She's scheduled for a doubleshift tomorrow, part of a schedule for covering for the same sergeant she got called in to cover on Sunday evening.
Outside, Andre's throwing a ball in the front yard, with tiny Izzy chasing the undersized tennis ball while Athena watches over them both. Grandma Jean is seated on a swing hung from a limb on the massive oak out front. She waves at Amanda, calling out a greeting.
It feels rude to only wave goodbye, so Amanda ventures over. The unease she's been feeling about Rick since the confrontation with Valerie is completely gone around the elderly woman. She can't help her curiosity about Rick, and something tells her that chatting with Jean will be informative. There's not a strong family resemblance between Jean and Shane, until you compare their smiles.
The resemblance strengthens when Jean meets her gaze, astute blue eyes definitely holding that shrewd intelligence Amanda's seen in Shane. "You aren't dating Rick."
"No, I'm not." Amanda wonders if this is another matchmaking effort, but Jean just nods, turning her attention to her grandson at play.
"He and Shane decided they were brothers, all the way back when they were five and on the same Little League team. Didn't matter one little bit to Rick that we were from the wrong side of things, or that my son bailed on Shane's mama without even marrying her. I watched both of those boys grow up. They're mine as much as they're Evelyn's."
"From what I hear, that sounds surprising, that Evelyn was okay with that." Lori's always been vague, but Amanda's put together enough clues over the years that she really didn't need Valerie's spite to know that Rick's mother is a classic snob. Then she recalls exactly what Jean said. "Both are Evelyn's?"
Jean laughs, her amusement making the swing shift. "Surprise of my life when she took to Shane like he was Rick's long lost twin. Gave his mama a good job and paid for Shane to go to the private school with Rick instead of public school. Never acted like my grandson was her housekeeper's son. That's why I let her have custody of Shane when his mama died their freshman year of high school."
When Amanda thinks about the two best friends, Shane does share a lot of the same mannerisms. There's a strong reality in their habit of calling each other brother, it seems. "That may be the most positive thing I've heard about his mother."
"Considering the woman took an unhealthy dislike to Lori from the day Rick first brought her home, I can imagine Lori doesn't have a single fond memory of Evelyn. She had plans for her son, and it didn't include being a twenty-two year old father married to a girl he barely knew."
"Lori wasn't from a good family." Christ, the day Daryl detailed out Lori's background to Amanda made her cringe and go buy Mama McGinley her favorite chocolates. It could have been Amanda's, if her mother hadn't given her up for adoption. "Not exactly the sort of wife for a company CEO."
"Oh, honey, that wasn't Evelyn's problem with Lori. She never intended for her son to take over the family company. Spent all her years raising him deliberately encouraging everything that put him on any path but the one his father and her father were on." Jean pats Amanda's knee, her smile lopsided. "He was supposed to be a gentlemanly history professor, if he followed his dear mama's plans, you know. Not a cutthroat businessman, and most definitely not a lawman."
"Why did he become a cop?" Amanda's seen the framed degree in Rick's study. Jean's correct that Rick's degree doesn't indicate plans for business or criminal justice either one. She knows some lawyers start out with history degrees, but not usually future patrol cops. But even with the baby on the way and a wife to support, Rick could have gotten his doctorate and gone on to teach.
"That's a story best left to Rick himself. There's enough family history buried there to fill a county landfill."
It's a fair enough request. Jean probably knows, considering the level of affection between her and Rick. "I suppose I'll have to ask him."
"You do that." Jean leans down to catch the ball that's rolled near her feet, tossing it easily. Izzy changes direction abruptly to follow the redirection. "Make sure you've got all the cards in the deck, before you decide which game to play."
Amanda nods, standing. "It's a long drive back to my place, and I've got a double shift tomorrow."
"Stay safe out there."
The phrasing hits Amanda as she walks to her car. Rick's used it twice with her, and it rolled off Jean's tongue so easily that she thinks she knows the source now. Glancing over as she starts down the driveway, she realizes Jean isn't at the swing anymore, but hugging Rick near the front porch.
Every time she thinks she's made up her mind about her feelings toward Rick Grimes, someone tosses her yet another curve ball.
The thing about being a cop is that it doesn't matter what department it is when a fellow cop is shot on the job. It's the fastest grapevine in the world, but Rick certainly wasn't prepared for Shane appearing in his office. The younger man doesn't knock, just calls his name in that falsely calm voice that tells Rick something's gone seriously wrong.
"There's been an officer involved shooting in Atlanta," Shane tells him at two in the afternoon on Friday.
Rick knows, the second he meets Shane's eyes that the reason his best friend is here personally is because it's Amanda. Anything else, the other deputy would have let the office grapevine take care of. "Is she…"
He can't complete the question. His hands are shaking, and there's a coldness descending over him. It's a feeling he knows well, because Shane's been shot in the line of duty once before. Through and through in his upper leg, but it had been the most terrifying moment of Rick's life.
"Transported to Grady Memorial for treatment. She'll be okay. Her vest took the brunt of it."
"Jesus." Rick buries his face in his hands. "It's not anything to do with our case, is it?" That's the next thought, that talking Shane into leaving them on the case with potential organized crime ties got Amanda hurt. She's out there on the street every day, unlike him, stuck behind this damned desk.
Shane's warm hand drops onto his shoulder. "Not as far as we can tell, Rick. Seems to be just an encounter with a messed up addict during a holdup. She went in to back up two of her officers, and the bastard started shooting. Suicide by cop."
The shaking is worse now, along with the need to not be here. Shane's grip on his shoulder is keeping him from completely losing it, and Rick thinks his best friend knows it. "Go home, Rick. Give her time to process through the medical and the followup with her lieutenant, and I'll get a message to her to go by your place, not home."
When Rick looks up at him, blinking in confusion, Shane gives him a little half smile. "Even if you two weren't tapdancing around being more than partners, brother, I do remember being tucked in your guest room for a week after I got shot. You aren't going to be happy if you can't make sure she's okay."
Rick also knows Amanda won't go to either of her brothers to be looked after, and being alone after a day like to day? He wouldn't wish that on anyone. "She might not listen to show up."
"You let me worry about that, Rick. Head home. She'll be there."
Trusting Shane like he always has, Rick shuts down his computer, not surprised when Shane hovers all the way to his car. He can still see the concern on his best friend's face as he drives away, and it's a reminder that he isn't the only cop who might worry about Amanda. Shane's under the double weight of being friends with Amanda and responsible for her as a senior officer. Getting home on autopilot, Rick paces his apartment, unable to settle.
Beth has plans for the weekend, so her sister is picking her up after class. With Gorman's interest in Beth muted now that the girl has a seemingly firm source of income from Rick as her 'sugar daddy', she's even been staying at her dorm here and there. The young deputy masquerading as a college student states that Gorman hasn't come near the college, even when Beth went there after work.
He doesn't have the distraction of Carl getting home anytime soon, because he'll go to Lori's after school. Four thirty rolls around, and he hasn't heard from Shane or Amanda. After debating with himself for a bit about calling Amanda himself, he decides to cook instead. She might not be hungry after the hospital and the nightmare thicket of paperwork that an officer involved shooting always involvees, but if she is, she needs something better than takeout.
The food is in the warmer and the pans washed by hand to give him something to do by the time he hears the door open. Amanda appears, looking tired and moving slowly like any other officer he's seen after taking bullets to the vest. She glances around the kitchen, arching a brow at the fact that Rick's cleaning the kitchen counters.
"Shane said I needed to stop by here. Something come up with the case today while I was unavailable?" she asks.
Rick wishes it had, because he would have an easier time of convincing her to stay put. "Not the case."
"I don't understand. Rick, I'm tired and in fucking pain. I just want to go home, take my pain meds, and sleep for about a day straight." She's frowning and already looking toward the door.
"You shouldn't be alone," he manages, wondering where the hell the eloquence he's known for goes whenever he's facing this woman. "Shane was doing me a favor." He isn't sure Amanda's ready for it to be stated that Shane was also trying to be protective of her. She seems to like his best friend, more than Rick most days, but he's not pushing his luck.
"Why?" She's curious, stopping from edging toward the door.
"You were shot today, Amanda." Rick drops the cloth he was using to wipe down the counters, gripping the edge of the kitchen island to stop himself from giving into the impulse to go check with his own two hands that she's okay.
"I've been shot before," she states. "And I was fine being alone at my apartment."
Rick wants to ask where the hell her partner was. Her family might not understand the impact, both of being shot herself and taking down the shooter, but her partner sure as fucking should have. He may have more or less kidnapped Shane to his house the day his partner was shot, but it's something they always did if they had to shoot in the line of duty. They were never alone afterward, not once.
Instead, what comes out is a tone Rick recognizes with a sinking heart that he last heard from himself as he begged Lori to withdraw the divorce papers. "Amanda, please. Just stay. Eat dinner. I need to know you're okay." He looks up from where he's been staring at his white knuckled hands. "Please."
Of all the reactions he expects, being shoved against the counter and kissed senseless sure as hell wasn't it.
A/N: 😇
Cliffhanger for y'all's enjoyment, right?
I'd blame the horrendous migraine that knocked me on my butt, but nah, this was planned this way. 😉
If you've read the Grandma Jean series, you should recognize Shane's eccentric grandmother... she's not in the unofficial domestic violence shelter business here, but I couldn't resist bringing her over.