A/N: Hello, everyone! I hope you are all doing well and staying safe.
This chapter is a little different from the rest. There is a bit of backstory between some OC's and an alternate view of a character, maybe even a little OOC. Some information may seem repetitive, but this is from the view of the character I'm exploring in a different light.
I'm working on the next chapter, so it will take some time to update again.
Anyway, enjoy the read, and reviews are always welcome.
Be safe, and be kind!
"Derry Police Department. How may I be of assistance," the receptionist inquired with a friendly smile and ethereal voice.
She listened carefully to the situation the person on the line described, eventually rolling her eyes.
"Hi, Ms. Wilks," she sighs with a palm rubbing her face. "Alright, just take a moment to breathe, and I'll send someone out to investigate."
The receptionist pressed a button on the nearby phone and waited impatiently for the phone to pick up. When it went to voicemail, her irritation skyrockets.
"Son of a," she growls under her breath. "Hey, Officer Bowers, this is Berta at the front desk. Ms. Wilks called about an intruder at the old Greyson residence. She believes they are tampering with the crime scene. I know you're personally working on the case, so I thought I would pass this along. Once you get this message, please head over there to find out what's going on. Thank you, deary."
She immediately hangs up and groans tiredly.
"I love my job, I love my job," Berta grumbles. "Fuck, I need some coffee."
Berta lightly slaps herself to wake up after an already long day, then pressed on with her task before the phone call. Just as she started, her ears perked from the sound of doors opening. She glances up slightly at first before fully acknowledging the citizen who entered the station.
Her peridot eyes widened, and a jovial smile graced her bright fuchsia lips, then stood to her feet.
"Oh my god, Rune!"
Rune, who entered the building, stopped in his tracks, gazed at the sinewy and shapely receptionist with mouth gaping and realization sparkling in his eyes. A big smile surfaced as he stepped forward excitedly.
"Holy shit, Roberta."
Giddy, Berta rushed around the reception desk and is immediately engulfed in Rune's arms. She squeals happily as he hugs her tightly and twirls in place while laughing.
"Oh, I am so happy to see you," Berta beams as she clung to his neck.
"Happy to see you, too, old friend. I didn't expect to see you here of all places," Rune starts, then sets Berta on the tiled floor. "You look ravishing as always."
"Tack så mycket," she curtsies in fluent svenska. "I could say the same thing about you, Ru. You look like you've gained more muscle since I saw you last. What exactly are you doing here anyway?"
He stares down at her with a knowing expression and head tilted sideways.
"Oh, right, you can't answer that," she mimics him in a deep voice.
"And she's still funny. Actually, I can since I can trust you. I was sent me here on a, ow! What the hell was that for?"
Berta punches his shoulder, her features hardening and scowled.
"Are you still wrapped up in that goddamned business, Rune Lindgren?"
"Shh, keep your voice down," he urges while glancing over his shoulders. "And yes, unfortunately, I am. I'm trying to figure out a way to get out of this bloody mess."
"Well, being here of all places is not helping, Rune. Christ, someone could recognize you if you're not careful."
"I know, and someone already does. Thankfully, they have kept their mouth shut for the time being. Although, I have to wonder if they are good in keeping secrets."
Berta scrutinizes her tall friend with a purse of her lips.
"You're not going to do anything to them now, are you?"
"What? No, god, no. I will never lay harm onto a kid, you know that."
"A kid knows?" Berta screeches lowly and eyes going wild.
"Relax, will you. Yes, a kid knows, but the idiot pojke hasn't said anything to anyone of who I am… yet."
"Well, you best hope the boy doesn't. Otherwise, the buffoons here at the precinct will be placing the irons on you. Who is the kid, anyway? I can threaten him to keep your identity a secret. You may have helped me in getting out of that hell hole, but I still have my talents tucked away if need be."
"That won't be necessary. I have some trust the kid will keep it to himself. Even though it is wonderful to see you after three years, I'm not here for chit-chat."
Berta tenses under his careful, observing gaze, then flicks her long cinnamon brown hair over the shoulder.
"Why are you here?"
Rune heaves a sigh then shows her an envelope in his hands.
She gazes at it briefly before taking it from him without question.
"Alright, who is this for?"
"It needs to go to the chief of police, and only him."
Her brows knit close, and her lips curved into a frown.
"Okay, what's inside here that only he should see?"
"There is some incriminating evidence of Rutherford Greyson's murder."
Berta flinches with eyes widening and gaps. "Wait, what? The authorities never publicized that he was. From what I understand, since Jordan wiped any existence of Rutherford, we classified it as a cold case of his whereabouts, not his murder. So, how did you," she stops when she caught sight of Rune's expression.
"Wait, did you see her? Have you seen Ruth?"
He stares at her softly, and she sees a smile Berta had never seen before. She took a good look at him, noting the glimmer in his eyes and pink gracing his cheeks.
"Yeah, yeah, I've seen her," Rune replies sheepishly after a moment and rubs his neck.
"Oh my goodness gracious, so she is okay? Please, tell me she's okay."
"She's fine, Berta, really. She is one unique young woman. I not too long ago dropped Ruth off at her secret place. So, she is safe now."
Berta seemed relieved yet startled.
"What do you mean by now?"
The second the question left her lips, Berta backpedaled to the phone conversation she had with Ms. Wilks. There was an intruder at Ruth's old residence, and now her friend from the past has concrete evidence of Rutherford's whereabouts. The only way he could have gotten anything is if the girl showed him where the stuff was and asked him to come here. Except, something else has her uneasy that she shifted in her spot. Berta knows how ruthless Rune can be when threatened or whenever someone he truly cares for is in danger. Her eagle eyes caught the fresh yet tiny developing bruise at the corner of his mouth, which only indicated he was in some sort of a scuffle.
"Jesus Christ, Rune," she seethes. "What did you do?"
She watches as his brows slowly knit close and a snarl formed on his thick lips.
"Now that, I can't tell you."
Berta couldn't help the groan escape her throat and glared viciously at him.
"Oh, for the love of God, Rune. Do you have to bring trouble everywhere you go?"
"It's not like I went looking for it!"
"Rather you go looking for it, or it follows you, trouble is a part of your life. It has always been that way for you since Kr," Berta is interrupted when Rune's hand grips her throat.
She doesn't cower, nor does she say anything; Berta just stood there. Her features relaxed and grew rigid as Rune viciously glares at her.
"Don't say her name."
The only thing Berta could do was stare and wait for his temper to subside. She forgot how angry Rune can get whenever someone mentions his traitorous yet dead ex-girlfriend's name.
When he releases his grip on her after a brief moment, Berta doesn't give him a chance to speak.
"I'll let that slide but remember to never do it again, you hear."
Rune shakily sighs while running his hand through his hair.
"I, I…I'm sorry, Bertie. I shouldn't," he stops when Berta held a hand up.
"It's alright since you are already on edge since you stepped through those doors. I'll make sure the chief gets this and clean up whatever mess you left behind. So, you owe me," Berta points at him.
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
Rune steps back and snatches a cigarette from his shirt pocket, even his new silver box lighter. The second he brought it to his lips, Berta smacks it away.
"Hey!"
"You can't smoke in here, you bloody idiot!"
She shoves it back in his pocket, then makes a grab for his lighter, but it's not the one Berta remembers.
"Wait, what happened to your lighter," she questions in a startled panic.
"It's safe," he replies promptly and tightly.
Berta gives him a nasty glare then slaps it at his chest, who rightly grunts from impact.
"I swear you are going to get in deeper shit if you are not careful. If they..."
"They won't."
"But what if, Rune? What if they find out you are the mole? They will find and kill you or even the person you might have left it with?"
"I realize that, and I will not let that happen. I assure you, if they knew, I would already be dead. I took the necessary precautions to ensure they won't. I hate to do this, but I need to get going. I have some… business I need to take care of."
This made a quizzical brow quirk, and Berta's arms folded under her well-endowed breasts.
"Alright, what sort of business?"
Rune just gives her a look she knew all too well.
"Christ, fine, don't tell me. Just take care of your shit and get the hell out of Derry before they find you."
"I planned on it. Take care of yourself, Chickadee."
Rune turns heel and started towards the double doors.
Berta sighs heavily then took several steps before stopping when a thought occurred to her. She rushes after him and ends up grabbing Rune by the arm. Her friend may be tall, but Berta is strong enough to shove him against the wall, who appears startled by her strength.
"Hey, what," he starts, only to be hushed.
"I know your business here was to deliver this, but what initially brought you to Derry? Plus, you never told me who sent you. If it's Bald Eagle, tell me now, and I might be able to help."
"It's not him, and you can't help me. You need to stay out of it."
Rune tries to slip past her, but the young woman is quick to block him.
"If it's not him, then who is it? Crackle? Red Hawk? Tell me, Sparrow. I can help you if you just tell me who brought you here."
"I assure you it's no one we know. It's not even an enemy. I don't know who they are, except their name is Maturin," he replies while avoiding her gaze.
Berta stares up at him, expressionless. She noticed a strange look in his eyes, something Berta has seen one too many times. She sighs, then steps back to give him air to breathe but kept him still with her palm on his cheek.
"Look at me," she instructs, and he follows. "I know that expression. I've seen it one too many times to know what it means, and it's usually not good either. Will you allow me to see it? Your vision."
Rune simply shakes his head with a sigh escaping his lungs.
She nods in understanding then drops her hand from his smooth face.
"Okay. If you ever need anything, you better contact me before you get yourself in deeper trouble."
He smiles softly at her then glares down at his shoes.
"You know I will. If it ever comes down to it, of course. Just update me of where you'll be, okay?"
"I will," Berta gives him a once over, then nudges his gaze onto her. "I'll get this all taken care of. Now, finish what you need to do and head on out."
"Thank you, Berta. I really appreciate it."
Berta smiles brightly then steps towards the ghost town of open desks behind her.
"Anything for an old friend. Take care, Sparrow."
Rune simply nods, then exits the building once Berta left his line of sight. He is swift in avoiding an officer, who paid no mind to him, and approaches his car that sat running. An excited grin crosses his lips from hearing Megadeth's "In My Darkest Hour," blaring inside. His long fingers skim the tail of his car and tap at the trunk enthusiastically.
"We're going to have a lot of fun, aren't we, gentlemen?"
Berta swiftly navigates through the surprisingly empty desks of the police department. She knows that a vast majority are out in the field searching for Ruth and the other missing children or even waiting to issue tickets for minor incidents. Not a whole lot happens here, to begin with. Except the most recent disappearance has everyone out looking for clues for their whereabouts. So, her task is going to be relatively easy since there won't be any prying eyes. Although, Berta still has to be careful to not get caught in what she is about to do.
She cautiously glances over her shoulders, watching for anyone to come around the corner. Thankfully, no one is around. Berta stares intently on one desk, her jaw set in determination as she carried the envelope to her side. Her steps are purposeful and steady despite walking on high heels.
Three years ago, well, maybe four, Berta was skillful in heavy boots that carried her from mission to mission and escape from rival members or FBI agents. Her time in that hellhole turned her once innocent life into a hardened warrior she didn't want to be. It wore Berta down, being ruthless, especially when she witnessed things she shouldn't have. Watching a young recruit getting gunned down made her break and desired an escape. That's why she, Berta, aka Chickadee from York, turned to him for help. He was the only person she knew who would get her out. Rune did at one point tell her he didn't want a sweet girl like herself involved in a massive syndicate. The place was overrun by narcotic dealers, people smuggling military-grade weapons and selling them, along with ruthless criminals, who were skilled hitmen and cold-blooded murderers, even known rapists. She is glad to be out of it.
Now, Berta has a debt to owe for her friend's assistance so many years ago. He had done so much for her over the years they worked together. Rune taught Berta to speak his native language, developed an allis that only they knew using North American birds for their syndicate, and showed her combat skills that would benefit her more than her opponents. Rune is highly skilled in hand combat, and teaching her how to fight tooth and nail made Berta his equal. Of course, she has her own skills that set Berta apart from him.
Berta approaches the desk on her agenda and sits. She stares at the deep mahogany surface critically, noting every inch of placement. One slightest misplaced item would unveil her tampering with another person's workplace. After a quick assessment, Berta reaches for the phone, noting the flashing red light. She pauses to read the caller id screen, one missed call, and voicemail. Berta checks the history to see the front desk as the only entry there. She found it peculiar that Officer Bowers would clear his records, which raised some red flags in her mind. Berta now has to wonder if he is hiding something from his peers, maybe even the chief. She has noticed him being particularly uneasy and withdrawn lately. Berta has also observed Bowers keeping close contact with the Clarke Brothers as of late and meeting them outside these walls. Berta can only assume the three are conspiring something.
She glances over her shoulders again then deletes the missed call. Berta carefully punched a few numbers and listened to the voicemail she left. She heard the forced cheerful tone in her voice, which made her cringe. Berta never liked her job here. The benefits were okay, but the pay is not that great since she had little experience. She applied and got the job because a friend within the department recommended her. Although despite their friendship, they seem to bring Berta down anytime they meet and bring toxicity, which only reminds Berta of her time in the syndicate.
It is then Berta has overstayed her employment here and Derry. It's time for a change. She would have to thank Rune for showing up when he did. Otherwise, Berta would have remained unhappy in this town. Maybe, she should go with him and assist in whatever hurdles he faces?
Berta can hear the front desk phone ringing from here, along with someone entering the building. A wave of panic swept over her, but she remained in control of her instincts to not gasp. Berta quickly erases the message without hearing it further, then gently settles the phone back in the cradle. Berta arranged the desk the way she saw it before then swiftly stood from the desk. She made sure the chair sat the way it was as well. Berta pauses from walking away once her gaze lands on a sticky note.
"Greyson Residence, 8:00 PM tonight."
Hmm, I wonder what he plans to do there, Berta thought to herself.
She mentally made a note of it then stealthily maneuvers around the other desks to the hallway.
Luckily, whoever had entered the premises seconds ago, is her backup caller since she heard them answering the phone. Berta is grateful that it wasn't anybody else because she would have been caught, which she didn't need. She watches the corner of the wall for anyone emerging into the cluster of office desks then proceeds to the chief's office.
Find this child, search for that one, and while you're at it, locate the Greyson Girl. Sheesh, when will it end? Officer Butch Bowers thought to himself.
He staggers towards the closed break room door, his shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion. He, along with everyone else, is working long hours in searching for the missing children. On top of it all, the homicide crew is still investigating Rutherford's possible murder. He would like to know what happened, especially when old memories are triggering his curious mind. They don't have a clue of where to look. Butch was told they searched the home and came up with nothing. Jordan made sure no one would discover Rutherford's whereabouts.
The thought of Jordan made his insides burn. Not in a sexual manner, mind you. Butch learned the truth about Jordan through Ruth's journals. She had gone into complete detail about the abuse Jordan and Jonathan put her through. It bothered him a lot that Jordan laid hands on a pretty young child. Not like he has a lot of room to talk. Butch is no better than Jordan since he is abusive with Henry.
Maybe, I should put a stop to that. I wonder if the boys found anything yet, Butch thought.
About an hour ago, Bowers had sent the Clarke Brothers to the Greyson residence to search for any incriminating evidence linked to Jordan. If there was anything concerning her involvement in Rutherford's disappearance or any other secrets about her, Bowers would ensure the evidence is destroyed. He doesn't want anything else about Jordan revealed to the public. They may have had a short-lived relationship, but Butch still loved and cared about her. If he had known Jonathan was her brother, Bowers would have interfered years ago and taken Jordan as his second wife.
"Yeah, big fat chance there," he mumbles to himself.
She would have left him like his first wife did after he had nearly beaten her to death years ago. Butch certainly didn't want a commitment with Rena. She may be a good cook and satisfies his needs on occasion, but a forever wasn't in the cards for them. Maybe neither of the women he encountered in his life were meant to stay. It could be possible a man like him deserves to be alone and left with a rotten bully of a child.
Butch groans tiredly as he shoves the door open in an inebriated-like state. The nap in the breakroom gave him the silence Butch needed to rest his eyes and brain. Of course, if it wasn't for the phone ringing out there, Butch could have slept just a bit longer. He had to sit in his previous spot for about five minutes to collect himself before he could leave the confinement of these four walls.
Just as he stepped out and barreled rounded the corner, Butch collides into someone, who rightfully yelps a startled scream and falls backward onto the carpeted floor.
Butch tiredly rocks in his spot with a palm on his temple and groans.
"Christ, watch you're going, will you," he grumbles.
"You were the one who came barreling around the corner and crashed into me, you jerk! You even startled the shit out of me, Butch," a female voice screeched.
Butch quickly recognized the voice as Berta's. The girl is always charming and kind towards him, even on his worse days. He glances down at her and kind of leers at Berta's smooth long legs, along with her exposed thighs from the navy skirt hiked up.
"Christ, shouldn't you be in uniform, Berta?"
He stoops to help the young woman up, who quickly explained her situation.
"I should, but my old ones are too tight on me and would be inappropriate to wear."
"You still haven't gotten your new uniforms?"
"No, sir. The last I heard, my size is on backorder. For the time being, I'm wearing appropriate office attire until they come in."
"They won't even let you borrow," Butch is interrupted by Berta talking over him.
"I already checked. It's mostly men-sized shirts and pants the chief would disapprove of. I told Chief Daniels about the situation, and he's okay with me wearing this for the time being. He is working on getting my uniform complications resolved, though."
Butch nods in approval and glances down at Berta. She is wearing appropriate clothing: a white pressed button-down shirt paired with a fitted navy blazer and knee-length navy skirt.
"Well, that's good to hear. Sorry, I ran into you, Berta."
He can feel her eyes on him, and not in a way Butch would think. Berta observed him critically like an inspector and with colored lips pursed.
"Thank you. Are you alright, Butch?"
Butch stares at her, almost intimidated by the firmness in her captivating yet cold eyes. He always knew the young woman was pretty and had a bubbly personality, but her mood seems eerily different. Butch noted how rigid she stood with elbows tucked snuggly at her sides and shoulders squared. Berta's jaw is set and chest puffed like a soldier ready for a mission. Butch is not one to read into body language, but there is something off about Berta today. Especially when she is giving him an expectant glare.
Butch quickly realized he was staring longer than he should and never answered her question.
"Oh um, I'm fine. I'm just tired. That's all."
Berta glared at him suspiciously and with lips curving into a frown.
"I see," she paused to analyze him further, which frankly bothered him. "The dark circles under your eyes and the tinge of pink indicate lack of sleep. I suggest taking a supplement like melatonin to help in that department. Now, if you excuse me, I have something to deliver for the chief."
She stealthily slips past him and without a second glance.
Butch watched her march gracefully towards the chief's office with a little mesmerizing sway of her hips. His stomach made an unpleasant flip once his gaze shifted to the parcel at Berta's side.
"Hey, Berta," he calls out a little gruffly.
Berta pivots like a soldier to face him, her jaw still set and gaze narrowing.
"Yes, sir."
He points at the envelope while maintaining eye contact with her.
"That envelope, what's in it?"
"I haven't a clue," Berta responds calmly and softly. "All I know is a civilian came in and presented it to me without explanation except to pass it along to the chief. Why?"
"Just out of the blue?"
The question seemed to not phase her, even the tone in his voice. Butch is starting to believe she is looking for a reaction that will uncover his hidden motives.
"Yes, just out of the blue. My apologies, but I must abide by their request and give this to the chief promptly. Have a good day, Officer Bowers."
There it is. Butch's nerves skyrocket once Berta redirects herself and resumes her march. He especially didn't like being addressed in that fashion. Usually, it doesn't bother him, but it does this time.
Butch hastily follows after her, questioning her along the way.
"Alright, what's going on, Berta? You're normally never like this."
"Everything is fine," she answers without looking over her shoulder and with forced poise.
He stopped briefly when a thought occurred to him.
"Christ, it's not that time for you, is it?"
"That is absolutely none of your business. Just leave it alone, Bowers."
Another wave of unease rippled through him when she just called him by his last name. Butch now firmly believes the girl is up to something or had a final straw with her supposed friend.
"If it has anything to do with Colleen, I will be more than happy to set her straight."
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary."
Butch and the once spunky receptionist found themselves at the chief's office, where Berta raps at the door.
"If it is not her or anything else, then what is bothering you so much?"
Berta snapped a hardened gaze on him and made to retort when a voice interrupted her.
"Come on in."
Butch anxiously watches her twist the knob and saunters into the room with him in tow.
"Berta," he growls under his breath, hoping to catch her attention.
"Ah, Berta. Just the person I wanted to see," the chief spoke gayly and motioned to the seat in front of his desk.
"Please, have a seat."
"My apologizes, chief, but Berta and I," Butch started to speak, only to be talked over.
"Thank you, kind sir. I'm actually on a tight schedule and can't stay too long."
"I understand you have projects to fulfill, but this will only take a moment. I just got off the phone with our uniform vendor. They had informed me your uniforms are now back in stock and are in transit. You should receive a package by the end of the week."
"Oh, perfect. Thank you for getting that complication resolved."
"Oh, you're most certainly welcome, Berta. I'm always willing to help my fellow comrades. You look rather poised today."
Berta actually grins at the chief's compliment and reddens in the cheeks.
"Thank you, sir."
Butch uneasily watched the middle-aged man and the receptionist interact. He noted the little sparkle in Chief Daniels's eyes and the proud smirk on his lips. There were numerous occasions where the guy would treat Berta differently than the rest of the female officers. They have this strange father-daughter relationship that, in a way, made Butch envious.
"Again, you're welcome, Birdie. Hello, Butch. You look like hell."
"Gee, thanks, chief. You look like hell yourself."
The chief glowers at Butch before rolling his eyes.
"I understand you and the rest of the department are tiring yourselves searching for Ruth, along with the other missing children and Rutherford on top of it all. I'll let the slide for now, but be careful how you speak to me."
"My apologies, sir. The lack of sleep," Butch tries to speak to his superior, but Berta again talks over him.
Christ, what is up with her today? He questions himself.
"Sorry, Officer Bowers, sir, I hope you don't mind me interrupting. I would love to linger and chat, but I actually came to deliver a parcel for the chief."
Daniels took notice of Berta's sudden formality, and quite frankly, is alarmed by her behavior. He won't voice his concerns out loud, though.
"Oh, is that why you showed when you did? I'm not expecting anything."
Berta hands him the beige envelope with little to no emotion and turns abruptly. She would have walked out of the room if Butch hadn't blocked her. Now that she is much too close to him, he can feel her trembling and posture going rigid. He saw her gaze shift into terror and avoided eye contact with him, which startled Butch.
"What's going on, Bird," Butch whispers and tenderly squeezes her arm.
She stiffened from his touch but relaxed slightly, then glances at him with a pointed look.
The chief curiously stared at the envelope behind them, then ripped it open. Daniels pauses briefly to glance down the slit before rummaging through the contents but stops abruptly.
"The fuck is this?"
Both Butch and Berta turned to face their commander in chief, whose brows are drawn together and a frown adorning his lips. They see documents split down the middle and several still intact. Daniels shook his head then set aside the torn papers to dig inside for something shoved in the bottom.
Curious, Berta moves away from Butch to investigate the papers. She approaches the desk and touches the documents with her fingertips.
Butch watched her for a moment as she read the document then stepped up to the desk. He found a folded-up map, which Butch opens to peer at it. Butch's brows furrow as he gazed at various x's.
"What the hell is this about?"
Berta glances over at him, then at the chief, who is trying to fish out something from within the envelope. She returns her gaze to the documents then to the map.
She hums, "I'm not sure what you're looking at, but this document is a custody agreement for Vivian Ruth Greyson."
Both Butch and Daniels glance at her.
"For who?"
"For Ruth, chief. It's custody for Ruth."
"I thought her name was Amber Ruth Greyson?" Butch questioned.
Berta is quick to show them a legal name change that was amongst the bundle.
"I've seen quite a few of these before, but this is a legal name change. Apparently, Jordan wanted to change Vivian to Amber for whatever reason but didn't get approval."
"Name change? Why on earth would she want to do that?"
"That I don't know. What do you have there, Butch?"
Butch inwardly grins from her calling him by name again, along with the spunk returning in her voice.
"Some sort of map with a bunch of x's on it."
"Let me take a look," Berta steps close to examine the map closely. Her brows momentarily knit with a frown adorning her Fuschia lips.
"This is a map of the Barrens."
"The Barrens? I didn't know we had pamphlets or any topography on this specific location to the public."
"We really don't, but someone went out of their way to create a very accurate topographic drawing."
"Apparently. What the hell did this person give you, Berta?"
Daniels stops his efforts in grabbing whatever is in the envelope to glance at Berta curiously.
"What does he mean by that, Birdie?"
Berta knew she couldn't give them the whole truth when her friend is trying to clear up his mess. So, she altered the story on a whim like she had done with Butch.
"Someone came in and just shoved this envelope to me without explanation and requested this go to you. I was about to question before they had left the premises with haste."
"Did you get a good look at the person to describe them? Whatever they wanted him to see apparently has some interesting stuff here." Butch inquired.
Berta shakes her head, "No, they were wearing a hoodie and didn't see their features. I think these are more than just," Berta is interrupted by an aggravated voice coming from Daniels.
"Screw this, I'll just dump whatever else is in here," he bellows, then turns the envelope upside down.
They all watched as polaroids fluttered onto the desk like confetti, revealing disturbing images of a severely bludgeoned and bloody body.
Daniels balks a foot away from his desk, his gaze widened to dollars, and his mouth hung open.
"Sweet mother of god," he whimpers.
Butch said nothing as he blankly stared at the massacre before him, unaware of Berta stifling a cry. He heard her footsteps quickly exit the room, leaving the two males alone to gawk.
For a short time, Butch stood there with the chief staring at the photos. For some strange reason, Butch feels he knows the person in the pictures. To know for sure, he connects the dots of what all of this meant. In a daze still, Butch examines the torn custody agreement. Clue one, Rutherford wanted sole custody of Ruth. Jordan didn't want any visitation rights or wanted to be a part of Ruth's life because she didn't want any children.
Then why didn't she have an abortion? Butch questioned himself.
He searches within the documents to find a letter from Rutherford to Jordan. Butch skimmed through and discovered clue two. Rutherford requested Jordan go through with the pregnancy because she was considering an abortion, plus he didn't believe in the practice.
I don't particularly care for it either, buddy, Butch says to himself.
Investigating further, Butch found something else that would steer him in the right direction. A carbon copy of Rutherford Greyson's will. As he read, his eyes widened at the amount that is left for Ruth.
Jeez, this guy is freaking loaded. It's no wonder Jordan wanted to bed him, he thought again.
Butch then saw the newspaper clipping of Jonathan escaping prison during a riot and what appeared to be money signs near the scum's face. He found this bit interesting, but then Butch remembered something. Clue three, Jordan's surname is Kershaw-Lund, not Greyson. She took on his surname for a reason, right?
He read further on, learning that Jordan would only receive a small portion of Rutherford's money while everything else will go to Ruth once she's fourteen. Now that Butch thought about it, both Jordan and Jonathan were killed the night of Ruth's birthday. Ruth went missing the same day.
Did something happen to her?
A sickening feeling developed in his stomach as he acknowledges the marked-up map. What is with all those x's, and why are they strategically placed?
Butch glances back at the polaroids, eyeing the corpse thoughtfully. His gaze suddenly stops on the nearby murder weapon. He instantly recognized it as one of Jordan's collectibles. She always liked baseball and was good at using one since Jordan told him before that she played on her high school team long ago.
Then it clicked.
He shallowly gasps then collapses into the chair. "Holy shit," Butch whispers shakily for Daniels to hear.
"Butch," Daniels starts as he remained to stare at the photos. "What is all of this about?"
It took him a moment, but Butch addresses his findings with a sad, collective sigh.
"These are," Butch struggled at first. "This all evidence linked to Rutherford's murder, chief."
Daniels' gaze widens, glances at the polaroids, then back to Butch.
"Wait, these photos are of Rutherford Greyson?"
Butch's lips lightly trembled, and his gaze shifted along the walls, so he didn't have to look at the pictures. He recalls a long time ago a conversation with the man before Rutherford suddenly vanished from the city.
It was a routine traffic stop because he pulled over Rutherford for speeding.
… fourteen years ago.
August 10, 1975
The evening was fairly cool but not enough to cause Officer Bowers' breath to show. He approached an idle car, lightly touched the trunk with a couple of fingers then came to the window. It was already rolled down, and a face was illuminated from Butch's flashlight bouncing off the mirror.
The driver is Rutherford, who had an odd look in his eye, and a little worn for wear. His ginger hair is a disheveled mess, and not his usual combed swept style. His usually groomed mustache is unbrushed and looked like a red caterpillar crawling across his face.
What the hell happened with him? Butch thought to himself.
"Good evening, Butch," the man spoke in a forced friendly manner and with a toothy grin.
"Hello, Rutherford. You look like hell."
"Thanks, I'm trying the new disheveled look that's making waves."
"I see. Honestly, it's not a good look on you. So, you got a lead foot or something?"
Rutherford chuckles, "I don't have as much of a lead foot as you do, though."
"Don't get smart with me. Why are you in such a hurry?"
"I really wasn't trying to. So, I apologize. All I'm trying to do is get out of Derry."
"Why are you?"
Rutherford took a minute to answer, which Butch noticed his Adam's apple bob shallowly and gaze seemed haunted. Butch also saw the color in his face drain and hands trembling despite clutching the steering wheel.
"It's just not safe here for me and my little girl," Rutherford answers with voice cracking.
Butch frowns but said nothing despite the gnawing feeling in his stomach. He beams his flashlight in the back, noting the luggage and several boxes. Butch then flicks the light elsewhere when he heard a baby cooing. In the back was little Ruth, smiling and staring at him with an excited gleam in her eyes. He took in her adorable features and the head of reddish-blonde hair.
Butch unknowingly smiles at the cute little girl and waves a finger at her.
Little Ruth cooed and tried reaching him for a hug while smiling brighter than the stars. Butch audibly chuckles, makes a face that made her giggle, and grins.
"You have a beautiful little girl, Rutty. I don't doubt she will look a lot like you when she is fully grown."
"Thank you, Butch. Yeah, I don't doubt it, either. I hate to sound eager, but am I good to go?"
Butch blinks, then flicks the flashlight on Rutherford, who instinctively squints from being blinded.
"Why are you so eager to leave?"
"Uh, I think it's best I don't say anything. I don't want you to get caught up in," Rutherford stops himself from saying anything further.
Butch waited for him to continue but never did. He caught something in the man's eyes where Rutherford appeared terrified. Butch didn't like the way Rutherford is acting, especially when he keeps glancing at his mirrors.
"Get caught up in what, Rut?"
"Oh um... never mind that, just take care of yourself, okay?"
Butch can only stare with a mixture of concern and slight agitation. He can tell something is wrong but couldn't quite figure out what it is. Instead of asking the more obvious questions, Butch inquires about something else.
"Yeah, sure. Just out of curiosity, where are you heading?"
Rutherford glances at him with lips trembling still.
"I have a place in Kennebunkport that is thirty miles out from Portland. It's about two hours and thirty minutes from here. I plan on driving through the night. That way, Vivian can watch the sunrise with me. She'll love that place. Besides, it will be safe for her there and for me."
Butch gently nods his head then gazes out to the road, which is disturbingly deserted. The feeling from earlier twisted in his gut more, and he feels the need to vomit. He chokes back saliva and wets his lips, the queasiness becoming unbearable.
"Alright, uh, I guess," Butch struggled with a hand wiping at his face. "I guess you're free to go. Take care of yourself, Rutty."
"Will do," Rutherford replies quickly, then reaches for the gear shift.
"Wait," Butch stops him, which ultimately caused Rutherford to groan.
Butch quickly tucks his flashlight between his arm and chest, then reaches for his pocket notebook. He jots down something then leans forward to present it.
"If you ever need anything, anything at all, you call me."
Rutherford stares at him, bewildered at his generosity and the passion laced in his voice. Something he never thought Butch would display, considering how they met. He gingerly takes the note with Butch's phone number and address on it, then smiles.
"Thank you. I really appreciate it. I'll tell you what, I'll call and let you know when I made it safely. Take care of yourself, and you be good to your wife and newborn."
"Yeah," Butch replies shakily, then backs up some to let Rutherford go. "Safe travels, and I'll hear from you soon."
"Bye, Butch!"
Butch watched as Rutherford's car traveled down the moonlit road, leaving him in sem-pitch darkness alone. Once the vehicle disappeared from his sight, his stomach made an unpleasant churn. Something about Rutherford's departure didn't settle right, and he hated not knowing why.
He looked up and down the dark road in deep thought. He is starting to consider following Rutherford until he was a safe distance from Derry. It would put Butch a little more at ease than succumbing to sickness and expelling stomach bile.
This little voice in his head told him Rutherford will be alright and not to worry. His gut, however, told him differently. With a final look on the deserted road, Butch ignores the voice to follow his aching stomach. He rushed to his cruiser, shoves himself inside, then raced down the narrow straight in search of him.
Sadly, Butch never found him.
Rutherford disappeared.
At that point, Butch didn't think that would be the last time he would ever see Rutherford.
He fully expected a call from him to let him know he made it to his destination without trouble. It would have eased Butch's discomfort. Instead, no call, or at least he thought Rutty did, but Butch was probably too drunk to remember.
Butch always wondered what happened to him. Well, now he knows. Rutherford is dead, and apparently by the hands of either Jordan or Jonathan. He wants to believe it was Jonathan but highly doubted it.
As he thought about it some more, what provoked the woman to commit such a horrific act?
With a slight glance at the custody papers and Rutherford's will, it finally became clear. Jordan murdered Rutherford because of the small contribution he left her. She killed the man out of sheer rage and greed. Jordan went against the agreement and took Ruth to raise, mistreat, and abuse the child. Butch doesn't doubt Jordan blamed Ruth for ruining her acting career. Jonathan came into the mix to impersonate as the father when he really wasn't and assist in tormenting the girl. For the longest time, Butch thought Jonathan was just another bedmate. Well, he was certainly wrong about that. Given Jonathan's track record, Butch presumes that the filthy scum sexually assaulted Ruth. The thought made his innards squirm. Yet, he had the gull to intimidate Rutherford's kid when he should have been protecting her from those barbaric people.
Butch always had a feeling Ruth was Rutty's kid, but the name didn't place for some reason. Jordan told him numerous occasions that her name was Amber Ruth and thought nothing of it. Boy, was he stupid. Ruth looked nothing like her mother since she is basically the spitting image of her father. He should have known from the start.
Fuck, I'm an idiot, Butch spat to himself.
Now, with Ruth missing, Butch is starting to think the worse. She did turn fourteen, and he suspects Jordan had done something to lay harm onto her. Knowing the whore, Jordan would have been smart about it and made Ruth's death look like an accident. Henceforth the fried shrimp and disgusting crab cakes laying on the floor. Otherwise, she wouldn't obtain Ruth's inheritance. So, not only did the bitch keep Ruth to torment, she intended to kill her to gain what her daughter would have gotten.
Except, there is the question of why the evidence was kept safe? Where exactly was it, and why now?
"Butch?"
Butch blinked when he remembered being in Chief Daniels' office and had asked him a question.
With a heavy, shaky sigh and his eyes still avoiding the photos, Butch finally spoke.
"You know," he started shakily and sighed. "Ugh, god, I-I always wondered what happened to him. I just thought," Butch stumbles.
Daniels gaps with brows scrunching tightly.
"You thought what?"
Butch sighs again with a hand rubbing his face.
"I know Rutherford left Derry and was hoping he would call, but I thought he just forgot," he explains, his voice wavering.
The chief stared at Bowers with a deep frown now adorning his lips and brows furrowed.
"What are you trying to tell me, Butch?"
Bowers weakly shifts his gaze from the office walls to the chief.
"I-I was the last person to see Rutherford alive, sir," he confesses.
The chief's gaze hardened and grew rigid in his chair.
"Excuse me, what?"
With another shuddering sigh, Bowers looked his boss in the eye and told him everything he needed to know.
Within an hour, with the help from their unknown acquaintance, the police redirected their search to the Barrens. As indicated on the map provided to them, they found the skeletal remains of Rutherford Greyson. Butch was there when they unearthed the body, which he ended up collapsing near the hole of which contained the man's corpse and wept. He may not have liked the guy at first since Rutherford was the person Jordan cheated with, but Rutty was always kind to him despite it all.
Rutherford was like that for anyone he met because he didn't have a single bad bone in his body. All the man wanted was to bring joy and return kindness. He desired to have a life with his daughter and give her love. That was his sole purpose in life, anyway. Rutherford wanted to be a famous artist and have a family. Except, it all got taken away from him.
Butch actually feels guilty for not realizing what was wrong when Rutherford hastily left town with little Ruth in tow. If he had known or even found Rutherford driving down the road, maybe then Butch could have helped the man in escaping Jordan's wrath. Rutherford would be alive right now and not in this six-by-four-foot hole.
At least, the person responsible for this heinous act is already six feet under. It may have taken fourteen years, but Rutherford got his justice.
As he stared at the corpse through thick tears, Butch worried over Ruth. She is out there somewhere still, either alive or worse, dead. However, Butch knows Ruth is a resourceful and clever girl like her father. He's starting to believe she found a place to go she deemed safe and is most likely out of the public eye… or maybe, she is someplace no one bothered to search.
Butch shudders a sigh, his slacked features morphed into determination, and he gently nods at Rutherford's remains.
I hope you rest easy now that the truth has been told, Butch thought to himself.
He fluidly stood to his feet, turned heel then marched towards the trail. His leave will give the medical examiners and investigators to do their job and confirm their findings. Besides, Oscar "Butch" Bowers has a mission, and that is to find Ruth.
He knows where to look for her, too.
The following day, the investigators confirmed the identity of the body they found. It was, in fact, Rutherford Greyson. They discovered torn pieces of a photo buried under the dirt, which survived these fourteen years. It explained the other small markings on the map they received. On top of it all, one of Jordan's baseball bats was found at the crime scene.
Butch wondered if the woman really knew what she was doing then. Burying the murder weapon and a photo to identify the body is a sloppy rookie mistake. Not to mention in proximity to the buried body. What was Jordan thinking? Did she want him to be discovered once they received the evidence? Hell, why did she even keep some of it? The police still don't know who provided the information.
The only person that would know is Berta. Except, she didn't turn up for work, which is unlike her. They tried calling Berta, but the number is out of service. They even went to check her place of residence, but none of her possessions were there. It was all gone, even fingerprints. Any trace of Berta was wiped clean, and no letter was left behind. She just vanished.
They asked her neighbors if they had seen anything out of the ordinary lately. They answered no and nothing further.
Later in the day, the Clarke brothers' bodies were discovered at the canal banks near Bassey Park. When the police investigated, they found Jax and Draven's pale, naked, crow-pecked corpses bonded at the wrists and ankles and bent at the waist. Their bloody and heavily bruised faces were planted into the gravel. Both were murdered execution-style with a single bullet to the back of their heads.
Of course, the police opened a case that will eventually lead them nowhere. Unlike Jordan, the assassin knew what they were doing. They left no evidence for the authorities to find. Not even a footprint!
Butch would have helped them out with these new mysteries, but he had… promises to keep.