He motioned with his hand for her to follow as he walked to his SUV, and she looked back at the struggling pair as she did. Daryl was still holding onto a wiggling Andrea, trying to get her into the house while a worried Dale held the door open for them. When she did turn back towards Rick, she noticed that he was holding the backdoor open for her, rather than the passenger door. The second row of seating usually reserved for criminals and those in handcuffs. Nevertheless Sovay climbed in to the vehicle throwing a hesitant eye at the detective as he slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver's door.

Rick quickly threw the truck into gear and sped out of the lot, heading down the road towards the outskirts of town rather than to the station. Which terrified her quite a bit, if she was to be honest with herself. Cops in general made her uneasy, but small town ones even more so. They were always a little more…lax when it came to procedure. A little too set in their own old ways, especially in these old southern towns.

But as Sovay looked at the man—what she could see of him in the rearview mirror, anyway—she noticed the pure exhaustion covering his face. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and a unkempt face that clearly hadn't been shaved in days. This was not a man worried about re-elections and the public eye. No, Rick Grimes was concerned for his town, for his people.

The pair kept quiet quiet on the drive, both trying to hide the looks pointed in the other's direction. Both trying to feel each other out, and both fed up with not having the answers to the many questions poised.

Rick only drove for about 10 minutes before pulling off the road near a cattle field. After putting the truck in park he twisted in his seat to look back at Sovay, her arms crossed in front of her chest and an expectant look on her face. He sighed either out of exhaustion or annoyance, or who knows, maybe both at this point, and turned around to exit the vehicle. After hitting the unlock button to his old Explorer he opened and closed the door to let her out of the back seat.

Sovay climbed out of the backseat, unsure of what to do with herself. Obviously she wasn't in charge here. If she was lucky she'd walk away from this conversation with only half of her ass handed to her, but she wasn't feeling optimistic. Out here, away from town and other people, Rick Grimes wasn't going to let her get away with cryptic non-answers. He was out here to get the truth and he knew he was going to get it. But she didn't have to make it easy for him.

She rounded on him, arm crossed once again in defiance, a no-nonsense look on her face to match the one on his. The man stood with his hand on his hips, looking at her expectantly. He sighed again, and Sovay wondered if he did that a lot, when she didn't start speaking.

"Now look Ms. Martin, I've been nice so far. As nice as I can be when I've got women turning up dead in my town. But now, now I'm going to need you to start talking to me, one decent human being to another." He paused waiting for her to speak, but not exactly expecting her to.

She'd turned her face away as he was speaking, and looked out into the nearby field. Blobs of black and white were scattered between the blades of grass, unmoving as the wind blew by. It was peaceful here. Much unlike the scene they'd left behind at the bed and breakfast. She guessed that that was why he chose this place.

"But maybe you're not a decent human being." Sovay turned her face back at the man to gape at his audacity. "I mean, you've been in town, what, just short of a week now? You say you're here to see Sam Keyes, and you just happen to show up the same time people start showing up dead. And all you seem to care about is giving us bullshit information and keeping your secrets to youself. Now I'm sure you can understand why that's suspicious to me, can't you?" She'd raised her chin during this, a scowl marking her once bewildered face. "Now I'm going to need you to be honest with me, Ms Martin, and this is the last time I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. What're you doing in Senoia?"

She ironed on the look on her face, hoping to only give him what answers she wanted to, before taking a breath and replying, and picking up and easy back-and-forth. "I'm here to see Sam."

"Why did he call you?"

"He wanted me to meet Beth."

"When did you see Amy Harris last?"

"At the bar last night with Andrea. I left before she did but Andrea was still there with her."

"You didn't see her early this morning?"

"No, just Detective Dixon," she enunciates.

"Daryl?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Daryl. He was sneaking out of Andrea's room early this morning." She smirked and continued. "I would'a figured you'd know that, since you're partners n' all."

"It didn't come up," he frowned. "What do you know about the Butcher?"

She froze and the grin fell from her face. "I already told you that."

"But I wanna hear you tell me again," he said, no-nonsense.

She sighed again, hoping he wouldn't try to dig deeper. "He killed a bunch of women in Louisville, one of which happened to be my best friend. He probably stalked her for awhile, broke in a stole things. I shot him once as he was trying to get away."

"And?"

"And what? That's it." She was getting frustrated now.

"I know you know more that you're not telling me."

"Like what?! What do you want me to say here, Detective? I don't know any more than what I've already told you."

"There were phone calls, missing jewelry, gifts. You all thought it was connected to Tomas before she died. Why is that? If it was all about the Butcher killing your roommate then why was it all of your things being messed with?" He watched as she started pacing, knowing that he was staring to get to her. "The calls were made to your phone. It was your necklace that went missing. I looked through the file from the restraining order against Suarez. The pictures of the flowers, the gifts. They were all things placed on your side of the room. Things that you liked. You can't seriously think I believe that your friend was the Butcher's intended victim?"

Sovay was panicking. She knew she couldn't get out of this one.

"Kelsey Thompson just got in his way, didn't she? Wrong place, wrong time. He was there for you, Ms. Martin, wasn't he?"

She had started crying at some point. The truth always hurt, that was for sure. It was something she could ignore most days, but not now, when it was being shoved in her face. She was the reason that Kelsey was dead and now everyone would know it too.

"But you walked in on him that night, didn't you? Caught him in the aftermath. What did he say to you?"

Her head snapped up at his question. "Wh—what?"

"What did he say to you? You caught him in the act and had time to pull out a gun and take a shot at him. What did he say to you?"

Sovay looked down at the ground, back towards the stupid cows, anywhere that wasn't the detective's eyes. She did not want to go through this again, not again.

"Ms. Martin. Sovay." Rick's tone became soothing, convincing. Oh this guy was good. "What did he say to you?"

By this time she was ugly crying and she knew it. Tears streaking down her face, snot building up in her nose. Not again, not again. She'd spent so many years building up a defense to her past and now one trip to Georgia was ruining it all. "He—" She looked up at Rick, unexpectedly finding him much closer than she'd thought. At some point she'd knelt on the ground, her knees crumbling along with all those metaphorical walls. And surprisingly he was down here too, balanced on one knee and watching her expectantly. "He said—" She took a deep breath. "He said 'I'll be back for you, you fucking slut.'"

Rick nodded, committing the words to his memory before asking his next question. "Is that what Richard Cassidy said to you too?"

Sovay's eyes nearly bugged out of her skull at his inquiry. "How—how did you know that?"

"Just a lucky guess." He looked at her meaningfully. "I figured that a killer who came out of hiding for you and Sam might have something to do with your past."

"And Rebecca Wallace."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Who?"

Sovay sniffed her nose and wiped at her eyes. "Rebecca. She lived a few towns over from us, growing up. She was two years older than me." She sniffed again trying to gain control of herself. "He—Dick got her too, before me. She was the first one to say something to the police. But then—" she stopped, knowing that speaking her next few words out loud would make them true, something she'd been avoiding since the Butcher first showed up in Louisville.

"But what, Sovay?"

"But then I saw on the news, at school. Rebecca Daniels' body was found outside her apartment on Preston Street in pieces." She gasped in air trying not to cry again. "I didn't even know she—she had moved away. Not—not until."

Rick finally put the rest of the pieces together in his head. "So Rebecca Daniels was one of Richard Cassidy's first victims?"

"She was his first," she sniffled, "both times."

The detective nodded. "And the other girl?"

"Heather Aldridge. She went missing from her parents house in Indiana right around the time the Butcher disappeared."

"Which means that—"

"He's here because of me." Rick looked at her taken aback at her outburst. "He's here because I'm the only one left."