He was tired, more so than he'd been in awhile. Daryl Dixon has never been much of a good sleeper, a fact even more pronounced when he was on a case. Which happened to be almost all the time. And he had a feeling this one wouldn't be a simple open-and-shut. You don't just dump a body like that and have that be the end of it. No, Daryl thought, this ones gunna be messy.
With less sleep than he'd like, he pulled his bike into the lot at the station and walked indoors, he lifted his head in greeting to the new kid, Zach, manning the front desk and passed by the elder Greene sister who was holding out a cup of coffee for him. He'd known the Greenes for many years, his father rolling with Hershel Greene back in the day, and later, the old man saving Daryl from himself. Despite his last name, Hershel had given the man a chance when few other would, and had eventually accepted him into the family. Sure, Daryl would give Maggie shit on a daily basis about her work at the station, but he was the one who got her accepted to the police academy in the first place, and quietly requested that she be placed in homicide with him, so he could keep and eye on her.
He was the same with the other two Greene children, bring known to interrogate each of Bethy's new boyfriends, and check in with Shawn's CO at Fort Benning on a regular basis. Not that he'd ever admit to any of it.
They were more of a family to him than his blood had ever been, and with Merle in prison again, the only family he'd have for quite some time. Which is why he got a bit concerned when he saw Beth's latest conquest sitting in one of the chairs outside Ricks office. Sure, the guy was kind of squirrelly, and he was a 25 year old man dating an 18 year old girl, but Daryl didn't think he was all that bad of a guy. Certainly strange, but not bad.
For a second he worried that something had happened to the girl he thought of as his baby sister, but knew Maggie would've had a different greeting this morning if that'd been the case.
He slowed his steps, stopping near the desk of Caesar Martinez and nodded towards the sitting man. "Wha's Blondie's whippin' boy doin' 'ere?"
The officer grinned at the rednecks question and chuckled. He was the first one at the station to take to Daryl's, well, everything, hardly even blinking at the mans rough way of doing and saying, even dressing, everything. "Came in with some girl demanding to talk to Grimes and no one else. Wouldn't say why. Been waiting for almost an hour."
He looked around the small building but didn't see anyone loitering around. But just as he was turning back to face Martinez he heard the aggravating squeak of the needed-to-be-oiled bathroom door, and out walked something he wasn't expecting.
She wasn't his type, not anywhere near it, those women being half drunk bar sluts he'd pick up every once in awhile when he felt the need. Those woman were scantily clad and wore too much makeup, and most of them, thankfully, left first thing in he morning without so much as a goodbye. If they even slept over at all. This girl, though, this girl was something else entirely.
She was Maggie's age, maybe a few years younger, with dark brown eyes, full red lips and looks that can only be classified as natural beauty. None of that fabricated bullshit those bar women forced upon themselves. This girl was all real.
The first thing he noticed as his eyes swept over her was the way she walked, dignified and strong like she knew she owned the place and the audience within. Her long mahogany brown hair reached her waist and swayed with her steps, taken with a pair of black mid calf combat boots, leading up to a pair of grey skinny jeans and then a cream colored top. His observant yes picked up in the few pieces of jewelry she was wearing, all expensive looking, and despite the way she dressed, he knew she was more than just another hipster kid. Yeah, he'd bet that she grew up with money, and had the confidence to go with it. But a quick look to her face told him that it was all for show. She was putting up a front, but she was nervous as hell and looking all over the place, searching for someone or something.
Her eyes eventually found his and blue met brown in a clash of defiance. Both of them refused to look away, to back down, and it wasn't until Beth's boy toy called to her that she tore her gaze from his. Daryl Dixon didn't know much about women, and much less about women clearly out of his league, but he did know one thing about this girl. She's got secrets.
She had called Sam after she woke up that morning, clearly waking him in the process, and asked him to tell her where she could find this Rick Grimes. I'll do even better, he said. I'll show you. So here they were, not even 8AM, sitting in a police station waiting for the man.
She was fidgety, that was for sure, trying not to think about the last time she sat in a place like this. She drummed her fingers, twirled her hair, picked at her fingernails until Sam gave her a look, one that said "You sure I'm the crazy one?" So she stopped and got up to go to the bathroom. Maybe a cool splash of water would help.
She did that, the exited the small space and took a look around the room looking for an unfamiliar face that could be Rick Grimes. Instead she met with a steel blue that almost knocked the air from her lungs and she froze, until Sam's voice pulled her away. She gave the strange man a once over, deciding he must be getting questioned. No way that guy is a cop, no other reason to be here. Unless you're me, she thought.
She say back down next to Sam, crossing then us crossing her legs, the decision to quit her fussing forgotten. She ran a hand through her hair. She needs to get it cut.
"You're overreacting." She turned her head to give her friend a dirty look, but he continued. "Seriously. There's no way it's him. You can't just go around claiming every dead girl has something to do with Preston."
She sighed. "I don't say every girl is, just this one. And since when am I ever wrong?"
He opened his oath to protest but was cut off by a looming shadow. The pair looked up to see Detective Dixon frowning down at them. "Sam," he said nodding at the man. "Heard ya got sumthin' ya gotta tell Grimes?"
Sam shook his head. "Nope, this is all her," he said pointing his thumb. Daryl grunted.
"You're Rick Grimes?" she asked while giving him a once-over. He was a wearing a pair of work boots and black jeans that had clearly seen better days, with holes and what looked like grease covering them. North of them he had on an old flannel with the sleeves ripped off with a leather vest covering it. His brown hair, shaggy and clearly uncombed. There is no way this guy is a cop.
Sam laughed. "Ha. No, this is Daryl. He's one of Beth's brothers. This is Sovie. She worships me."
This time it was her turn to scoff, but she said nothing. There was a time in the childhood when this was true, when she'd follow her friend around their neighborhood, doing whatever her hero would do. But that was a long time ago and very many things had changed since then.
Daryl just looked at her and made no comment. "C'mon then. Rick'll be 'ere soon." He turned away and opened the door to Rick's office, walking in. The pair of friends followed and the detective motioned for them to take a seat, although he remained standing. "Ya gunna tell me wha' this is 'bout then?" he asked looking at her once again.
"I'd rather wait." They continued to stare each other down, as Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably, until Rick walked through the door a few minutes later.
"Hi," he said. "Hey Sam." He nodded towards the man before turning back to Sovay, whose eyes were still locked with the other detective's. "Maggie said you needed to speak with me."
When she finally tore her gaze away to face Rick. Now that's more like it, she thought. He had cop written all over him. "It's about that girl, Sophia Peletier." He nodded for her to continue, so she did. "I know who killed her."