Breaking Bad Booty Calls
"That's him?" Daryl growled. "That's the ugly fucker who killed my brother an' wants to kill me, too?"
He looked to Beth for confirmation and she nodded weakly, lips pursed.
Merle stepped closer, squinting at the screen and studying the photo for a second. He frowned and returned to leaning against the wall, and Beth awaited his inevitable commentary. But it never came. He just sucked on his teeth and glared across the room at the computer monitor, as though The Governor would be able to feel his rage somehow.
Beth reckoned it didn't feel so good to see your murderer's mugshot and still have no recollection of dying at his hands.
She glanced over to see Daryl's hands clenching into fists atop his lap, the corner of his mouth twitching and his shoulders gone stiff. She didn't even want to try and imagine what he was feeling right now.
"So what do we know about him?" She asked as Rick turned the monitor back around and began skimming through the file displayed on the screen. "Is that like, his whole record or whatever?"
"As much as the state of Georgia has on him, anyway," Rick replied, narrowed eyes set on the screen before him. He paused, leaning a bit closer and reading. "Says here he was brought in for questioning during the investigation into the Dixon fire—only 'cause he worked for the insurance company. Brought in all his coworkers, too. Apparently he had a solid alibi, they let him go an' never followed up."
"They didn't know he used to be drinking buddies with Will?" Beth asked.
Rick shook his head.
Daryl scoffed. "Typical."
Then Rick cleared his throat and said, "Good news, though, he wasn't walkin' free fer too long… Got arrested about seventeen years ago. Tried and convicted. Sentenced to 10 to 15 in a federal penitentiary."
"For what?" Beth and Daryl asked in unison.
Rick glanced up at them and hesitated, eyes flicking over to Daryl warily. Then he said, "Insurance fraud… and arson."
Beth couldn't help but gasp. She looked over at Daryl to see his face draining of color.
"That it?!" Merle remarked, audibly unimpressed. "So the dumb bastard got caught tryn'a make another deal like he did with my pa? And he was stupid enough to use the same old worn-out method?"
She reworded the dead Dixon's question, trying to be optimistic, "As in, he got caught trying to burn up a house and make money off it…?"
Rick shook his head, frowning heavily. "Nah. He did more than try. He was, uh… originally booked for attempted murder, as well. He pled down to reckless endangerment—"
"Pled down? So he fuckin' snitched on somebody else?" Daryl guessed.
The sheriff shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"Who cares about who he snitched on," Beth interjected. "He set another house on fire? Tried to kill someone? Again?"
"Sounds like it," Rick said sadly. "Lemme see if I can dig up some more details…"
He looked back to the monitor and clicked his mouse a few times, tapping away on his keyboard for a moment. Then his eyes widened. He sighed.
"Not much news coverage on it," he said, his voice low. "But there was an inheritance involved, some kinda scam with a last-minute life and property insurance plan… The fire destroyed the house. Nearly killed two women—an elderly lady and her teenage granddaughter. Two arrests were made. They never released the names of the suspects to the public. Kept the victims' identities private, too."
"Jesus," Daryl muttered, his face still pale.
"Sounds like ol' Phil never learned his lesson," Merle remarked snidely.
Beth ignored him and asked Rick, "And where was this? Not here in Senoia, right?"
Rick shook his head, focused on the computer screen as he clicked his mouse here and there, skimming more news articles. "Nah. Fayetteville."
"Seriously?" She asked with raised eyebrows. "Barely half an hour away from his first crime scene?"
The sheriff shrugged, scrubbing a hand down the side of his scruffy jaw and sighing. "Doesn't surprise me. He didn't even come close to gettin' caught the first time. Made him cocky. I see it all the time with criminals like this."
"Well," Daryl chimed in. "We know he had an accomplice. That must be who he sold out fer a plea bargain."
Rick shrugged again. "Possibly."
"When was he released from prison?" Beth asked.
"Uh," Rick squinted, clicking his mouse and checking before he responded. "Almost three years ago."
"You got anythin' else on him? Sum'n we can use to track him down?" Daryl inquired, the color beginning to return to his face as he leaned forward in his seat and gazed hopefully at the other man across the desk. "An address? A place he might be workin'? The name of his parole officer? Anything?"
"Sadly… no," Rick said, blue eyes flicking away from the screen to meet Daryl's. "His parole ended last year and he hasn't been mandated to report his current address or employment since then. My guess is he's layin' low, probably usin' his dead brother's name to stay under the radar. If he's got a job, he's pro'lly gettin' paid under the table. Might not be living anywhere. If he was smart, he woulda relocated outta state."
Merle snorted. "Think it's safe ta say he ain't the brightest bulb on the tree."
Beth smirked at that, shooting the dead Dixon a brief look of agreement. He cackled.
"Obviously he's not," Daryl said. "If he's lurkin' around here, plottin' murders an' shit. Fucker can't seem to stay away from King County."
Rick sighed. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of…" He trailed off and an expression of contemplation crossed his face, knitting his brows together. He slowly turned his attention from Daryl to Beth. "You, uh—is Merle still with us? Right now?"
She nodded, glancing pointedly to the other side of the room where Merle was currently leaning against the wall. "He has been the whole time. Why?"
"Ask 'im if he knew his dealer's last name," Rick instructed. "The Jesse guy."
Beth turned her head and looked at Merle expectantly, but he frowned and crossed his arms over his chest in a show of defiance. "Ask me yer fuckin' self, asshole! I'm dead, not deaf."
She rolled her eyes and turned back to Rick, grudgingly repeating, "He says he wants you to ask him yourself." She gave the sheriff the most apologetic expression she could manage.
But Rick just chuckled, shaking his head, and looked over towards the general area that Merle was occupying. He spoke louder as he asked, "Okay, Merle. What was yer dealer's last name? And are you sure Jesse was his real first name?"
Merle smirked and stepped away from the wall, sounding all too pleased with himself. "Now that's more fuckin' like it." He jerked his chin towards the sheriff and sucked on his teeth, relishing in the acknowledgment for a long second. Then he said, "But uh, no. I never was much good with rememberin' names. Could barely 'member my own most'a the time, especially if Jesse was sellin' me the good shit."
He laughed like it was a joke and Beth gritted her teeth in frustration. She wasn't sure why she'd expected anything else from him.
She turned and looked at him before asking, "Could you at least try to remember?"
He scoffed. "What the hell for?"
She sighed. "Because, he could be in danger. What if The Governor is trackin' him down?"
He shrugged indifferently.
She managed to retain her composure despite the urge to tell him off for being so goddamn stupid and unhelpful. "Just try. Please. Don't you have the faintest idea what it could've been?"
Merle rolled his eyes in annoyance and shifted his weight from foot to foot. Then he said, "Fine. But only 'cause ya asked so nicely." He paused and looked upwards thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with one hand as though he were thinking really hard. "Uh… le'ssee—Jesse… Jesse B—no, that's not it." His licked his lips and squinted up at the ceiling, sounding out random letters. "Jesse Mee… nah, that don't sound right. Jesse Qua—no, Quee… shit. Jesse Puh—um, Pee…"
He shook his head and looked down, sighing. "Christ, I dunno, blondie. I think it started with a P. He only told me one time, an' we were both high off our asses."
Beth quirked her mouth to the side and turned back to Rick, trying not to let her disappointment show too blatantly. "He can't remember, but he said he thinks it starts with a P."
Rick had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, but once she translated what she'd been told, his eyes grew wider. He looked to Daryl wordlessly, searching for confirmation.
Daryl merely shrugged. "Don't ask me, I barely knew the guy. Never bothered try'na learn anything about him."
The sheriff pursed his lips and, without speaking, turned to the computer and began typing and clicking once more. A moment later, he was turning the monitor so that Beth, Daryl, and Merle could all see it.
Displayed on the screen was another file in the same format as The Governor's, but the list of information was shorter and the mugshot was noticeably more recent. It was a skinny man with short blonde hair and round eyes, a hard scowl on his meth-scabbed face. The name below the photo read: Jesse Pinkman.
"This him?" Rick asked.
Merle snapped his fingers and took a step forward, eyes going wide as a grin spread across his mouth. "Shit, yeah! That's him! Pinkman? Yeah, that's right, I 'member now. Jesse goddamn Pinkman. Sold the best crystal I ever smoked."
Beth nodded eagerly and repeated for Rick and Daryl, "Yeah, he says that's him. Definitely. Used to sell him meth."
Rick turned the monitor quickly back around and made a few clicks with his mouse, his face falling as he did so. He was frowning heavily when he turned the screen around for them to view it one more time.
There was a new photo displayed now: it was Jesse, but he looked different. Like he was sleeping. Beth quickly realized he wasn't; he was lying on a metal table with a crisp white sheet over his bare chest.
He was dead.
Daryl croaked out, "Fuck."
Merle gasped. "No fuckin' way—you shittin' me? He's dead?"
Rick looked from Daryl to Beth. Then he explained flatly, "He was murdered last week."
Beth blinked in awe. "You mean… the murder case you mentioned, the one here in Senoia?"
He nodded. "Yep. It's his. We found plenty of evidence, but we already ruled out all the possible suspects. Ain't had a lead in almost five days."
She asked the first thing that popped into her head: "Did you find his phone?"
Rick shook his head sadly. "We tried to track it, but whoever killed him must've taken it an' disabled it. Or destroyed it. Couldn't turn up so much as a trace."
"It was that Philip asshole," Daryl growled. "He went after Merle's dealer 'cause he's too pussy to come after me first."
"Yeah," Rick agreed, turning his computer monitor back around and tapping a few keys. "Yer probably right. But we got no way to prove it. The Governor—Philip, whatever you wanna call him—knows how ta cover his tracks. Goes after the easiest targets… Jesse's body wasn't even found till at least three days after he was killed. Just like Merle. Nobody ever came by his place 'less they were lookin' for drugs or money. The only next of kin he's got lives clear down in New Mexico. Took another four days after we put him in the morgue 'fore we could get somebody ta come down an' confirm his identity."
"Son of a bitch!" Merle cried out, slashing his arm through the air angrily and stomping around in a huff. "I can't believe that motherfucker killed my boy Jesse! He was good people, didn't never hurt nobody. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?! Goin' 'round, killin' anybody I hung out with! I'mma make this bastard pay, mark my fuckin' words…"
Beth ignored him and kept her attention on Daryl and Rick, the former of which was sitting quietly and chewing on his thumbnail, while the latter folded his hands atop the desk and gazed at them with a hint of forlorn in his eyes.
"So what's this mean?" Daryl muttered. "Now that ya know it was him, are y'all gonna track him down? Connect the evidence back to 'im so we can get him off the damn streets?"
Rick frowned, slowly shaking his head. "There's… nothin' we can do. I might know it was him, but I can't prove it in a court of law. Like I said, we ain't got any evidence to link him to the murder. He didn't leave any traces behind. An' if he did, they were destroyed by the time we got to the scene."
"Damn," Beth huffed out, shoulders sagging in defeat.
Merle was still pacing heatedly, grumbling under his breath and cursing Philip Blake's name to Hell.
Then Daryl chirped up, "Can ya do one more search in them records ya got?"
Rick shrugged. "I don't see why not. What're you thinkin'?"
Beth glanced over at the living Dixon and gave him a questioning look. He responded with a clipped nod before turning to Rick.
"Caesar Martinez," he said.
Rick's eyebrows rose. "Hell. I s'pose it wouldn't hurt to try."
He quickly tapped the search into his computer. A few more clicks and taps later, he hummed with intrigue.
"Huh, I didn't think he'd be easy ta track down… But here he is," the sheriff said, eyes glued to the screen before him while he scrolled with the mouse in his hand. "Lived in Fayetteville. Arrested—shit."
"What?" Beth asked, leaning forward in her chair.
Rick's eyes grew wide and he tore his gaze away from the screen. "Caesar Martinez was arrested the same week as Philip Blake. Tried and convicted within the same month. Sent to the same federal penitentiary."
Merle barked out a laugh, a mixture of triumph and surprise.
"No shit?" Daryl breathed out, stunned with disbelief.
"No shit," Rick assured. "Got fifteen more years than Philip." He glanced back to the screen and frowned. "Bad news, though…"
"What can be bad about that?" Beth asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She exchanged a look of satisfaction with Daryl: he'd been right about Philip selling out his accomplice in order to plead down to a lower charge. "We can go find him, talk to him—he must know everything about The Governor! He must've been the accomplice that got thrown under the bus. Which means he'll prob'ly be more than happy to talk to us. The Governor did him dirty and I bet he wants revenge."
"I agree, Beth," Rick said solemnly. "But don't get too excited just yet."
"Why not?" Daryl asked, growing impatient. "Don't tell me he's fuckin' dead, too."
"Nah," the sheriff confirmed. He lowered his voice and finished, "He, uh… got transferred to another prison about five years ago. Out of state. And I don't have access to his current records."
Merle let out an aggravated yell, making Beth jump in her seat. She shot him a glare, but he ignored her, wringing his hands together and pacing back and forth wildly.
"Yer kiddin'," Daryl said flatly.
Rick shook his head, clearly disappointed. "Serious as a heart attack."
Beth slumped back in her seat and let out a long sigh.
"Just when I thought we might be getting somewhere," she mumbled.
"Can't ya make some calls?" Daryl asked. "Try to find out where Caesar was transferred? I know you got connections like that."
Rick sighed. "I can try, but I ain't gonna make any promises. I don't know many people in law enforcement outside of Georgia, let alone anybody that'd have access to current prison records. It's a whole separate system."
Beth straightened her back and tried to force some optimism into her voice. "Well, we still have the insurance company to visit tomorrow—right?"
Rick nodded and pointed at her to emphasize his agreement. "Right. Let's not forget that."
"Yeah, but what're the odds they'll know anything about Philip if he ain't worked there in damn near twenty years?" Daryl said.
"We won't know till we try," Beth quipped.
"She's right," Rick agreed, turning to Daryl. "We could catch a lucky break an' run into somebody who's worked there since before the company was bought out, or maybe even somebody who heard some shit through the grapevine. There could be a whole 'nother lead waitin' for us there. But we won't know till we try. Can't go throwin' our hands up in surrender just yet."
Daryl grunted in dissatisfaction and crossed his arms over his chest, his brotherly resemblance to Merle almost shocking to Beth for a second. He shook his head and said, "This is such bullshit. Feels like we got a damn shortcut sittin' right in front of us, but we're off takin' every other detour instead."
Beth's mind was racing with all the new information, piecing it together inside her head moment by moment. She couldn't help but think, But Morgan didn't say anything about talking to some guy in a prison. He saw the cabin, Rick's future wife, an invitation to a Halloween party, and some blonde woman that isn't me.
She lowered her voice and spoke directly to Daryl, "Remember what the Swamp Witch told us, Daryl—he didn't say anything about visiting a guy in prison. He saw…" She trailed off, glancing warily at Rick. She didn't want to mention his 'future wife' for fear that it would screw up the foretelling.
Daryl understood all the same. His eyes lit up and he stared back at her quizzically for a brief moment, then the memory seemed to dawn on him. He sat up straight and uncrossed his arms. "Said he saw us talkin' to some blonde lady." He must've interpreted her silent message and agreed that they shouldn't talk about Rick's 'future wife' aloud.
She nodded, and they both turned to look at the sheriff expectantly.
Rick raised his eyebrows, intrigued by the mention of the Swamp Witch he'd been told about. He leaned forward a bit. "Blonde lady…?" His blue eyes flicked over to settle on Beth. "And he wasn't talkin' about you?"
She and Daryl both replied, "Nope."
Rick's eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand across the scruff on his cheek. "Well, shit… the only blonde lady I can think of that'd have any pertinence to this case is… aw, hell. I'ono how she could be any help at this point."
"Who?" Beth asked, urging him to continue with a persistent look. Daryl mirrored her expression.
Rick let out a deep breath and said, "The judge that Merle slept with."
"Oh, c'mon!" Merle cried out, throwing his hands into the air. "Don't go trackin' down my fuckin' booty calls! This shit ain't called for!"
Beth whipped her head around and glared at him, blurting out, "Back at Morgan's cabin, you said you had no idea who the blonde woman could be—so now you suddenly remember? How convenient."
Merle rolled his eyes and waved her off dismissively. "When the hell you gonna learn that my memory ain't what it used ta be? You know how many fuckin' brain cells I drank an' smoked away before I died, princess? I don't get 'em back after death, ya know. Ain't how it works."
"Obviously," she muttered, turning back to Rick and finding him watching her with a perplexed look on his face.
"And how the fuck is she gonna be any help?" Merle continued. "That broad don't know shit about me 'sides my criminal record." Then he snickered. "Well, I take that back—she sure knows how to suck a dick."
Beth grimaced and tried to ignore him.
"Y'all think she could have some information that she didn't give me?" Rick asked.
Beth and Daryl shrugged.
Beth replied, "We won't know unless we talk to her."
"If you covered her ass fer screwin' Merle, I'd be willin' to bet she's got somethin' for us," Daryl surmised. "He had a habit of runnin' his mouth to the chicks he hooked up with. I'm sure she left some details out, only told ya what you wanted to hear. 'Specially if she was afraid it'd cost her job."
Rick quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. "Decent point ya make there. I reckon it'd be worth lookin' into."
"You still got her number?" Daryl asked.
Rick frowned. "Ain't talked to her since shortly after Will's death, but yeah, I still got her number. Even if I can't reach her that way, I'm sure I can track her down pretty easy."
"This is bullshit!" Merle exclaimed, frustration audible in his tone. "Jesse's dead an' y'all wanna waste yer time trackin' down some bitch I fucked?! Are you retarded?!"
Beth sighed, all the exhaustion from her long day of lying and dealing with the dead Dixon catching up to her very suddenly and making her blood boil. She snapped back at him, "Shut the hell up, we're—"
But she couldn't finish her rebuttal before Merle was letting out a furious yell and grabbing the file cabinet that sat in the corner of Rick's office, shoving it over with all his strength and anger. It tipped and toppled to the floor, filling the room with a loud cling claaaang! that resounded as the shelves rattled and numerous files full of paper spilled from the drawers.
Rick leapt to his feet while Daryl and Beth jumped in surprise, and they all turned to stare at the overturned file cabinet with wide eyes.
Merle's face was bright red and he pointed a finger at Beth, his other hand clenched into a fist at his side. "If you don't start fucking listenin' to me, yer gonna end up gettin' my brother killed! And I swear to fuckin' God, Beth Greene, if Daryl dies, you'll never find a moment of fucking peace in this world!"
She jumped up to her feet and opened her mouth to argue back, but he promptly flickered and disappeared, red face and clenched fist and all. She spun around to find Rick staring at the toppled file cabinet with a frown.
"What the fuck was that all about?" Daryl asked.
Beth shook her head, speaking to Rick, "I'm sorry, Merle got mad again, I—"
"What the fuck, Merle?!" Daryl exclaimed, looking towards the general area where Merle had been.
"He disappeared," she quickly explained. "Threw a fit and left."
"Again?" Daryl scoffed. "Dumb son of a—"
Rick put up a hand to stop them. "Don't worry about it. Just…" He sighed and put his hands on his hips. "Maybe we should call it a day."
Daryl stood up from his chair eagerly and nodded to Beth, silently agreeing with the sheriff.
Beth sighed, her frustration slowly ebbing away. "Yeah, we should. It's been a long one."
Rick walked Beth and Daryl out of the Sheriff's Department, making plans to contact them the next day and arrange their visit to the insurance company. He also promised he'd look into contacting Merle's former judge, the mysterious blonde woman.
Beth thanked the sheriff profusely, offering to clean up the mess Merle had made, but Rick just waved her off with a smile and assured her it was fine and that he understood, explaining how he'd make Shane clean it up as payback for getting a half-day of work. Daryl laughed at that and agreed that it was only fair, also offering his abashed thanks to Rick for all the help he'd given them. Rick told the living Dixon to be careful and "watch himself," that he wasn't so sure the coughing fit in Atlanta was solely the work of a demon and that he thought Daryl should probably make an appointment with a doctor. Daryl nodded begrudgingly but didn't argue, though Beth could see the disagreement on his face.
Nonetheless, they shook Rick's hand in the parking lot and offered more thanks before bidding him goodnight. Then Beth was slipping on her helmet and climbing onto the back of Daryl's motorcycle, wrapping her arms around his middle as he started it up. The engine rumbled and vibrated beneath them, and Beth briefly wondered where Merle had run off to this time.
But a few minutes later, once the wind was whipping past her helmet and her body was pressed close against Daryl's back, all thoughts of the dead (and infuriatingly obnoxious) Dixon had fled her mind. She distracted herself with the sensation of the motorcycle beneath her, the way Daryl leaned left and right to steer them and the way she leaned with him. She reflexively tightened her grasp around him, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, she thought he might've been leaning back into her every now and then. Though she was almost certain it was just her imagination.
She looked out and watched the blur of green pastures and barbwire fences as they sped down the road, smiling to herself when she saw a stray cow or horse grazing on dying grass. The sun was sinking lower and lower towards the horizon, a late October chill piggybacking on the breeze and beginning to settle across the Georgia countryside.
When they passed an intersection of dirt roads just a few miles away from the farm, she glanced out and watched the winding right turn disappear behind them. She thought about her mama's memorial: how happy her dad had looked, how busy Maggie had kept herself, how many tears had been shed by everyone in attendance. This morning already felt like forever ago.
And—shit. Now that she was thinking about it, she remembered how she'd been meaning to gather a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers to leave at Annette's grave. Like she did every year. And she'd been interrupted by Merle, then promptly distracted by finding Daryl and tracking down the Swamp Witch and investigating the murder. And now the memorial was over and she still hadn't picked so much as one flower. She hadn't paid her proper respects. Dammit.
If she were being honest with herself, she needed to visit Annette's grave for more than one reason. Not only to pay her respects, but also to let herself feel that pain again. To feel that connection she couldn't seem to find otherwise, even while standing in her mama's beloved garden or sitting in her favorite chair or reading her favorite book. There was just something about her mother's final resting place that offered Beth… peace. A peace she couldn't get anywhere else. She knew it was just a grave—it wasn't like that was where her mama really was—but it still meant something to her. And to Maggie. To all of them. It was something that made Annette Greene feel more real. More present. LIke maybe she was listening from wherever she was resting.
Daryl let off the gas and slowed as they approached the long driveway of the farmhouse. Beth loosened her grasp around his middle and leaned back a bit, gazing up at the house. The porchlight was on, in preparation of the coming sunset, and nearly all the windows were lit up from the inside. She looked out towards the yard and the barn, searching for signs of Hershel or Shawn or Maggie. But it was about dinner time, so she figured they were all inside, eating and conversing.
Daryl stopped a bit farther from the back porch than before, kicking down the kickstand and planting both feet on either side of the bike while Beth pulled off her helmet and dismounted.
He was still gripping the handlebars when she shoved the helmet into one of the bags hanging off the side and took a step back. She offered him a shy smile and glanced around, checking for signs of Merle or her family. But it seemed that she and Daryl were alone outside. At least for the time being.
He spoke up over the idle rumble of the motorcycle, "Alright, Greene. See ya tomorrow?"
She nodded, smiling a little wider and talking louder than usual so he could hear her. "Yup. Thanks for the ride."
He shrugged. "Don't mention it." She saw his eyes shoot towards the farmhouse, an almost wary glance at the windows and doors. Then he cleared his throat and met her eyes. "Y'think Merle's gonna leave ya alone fer the night? After his little hissy fit?"
She smirked and said, "I hope so. It's awfully peaceful without him buzzin' in my ear."
Daryl grunted and flashed a crooked smile. "'M sure it is." Then his eyes flicked downwards, hands resituating on the handlebars as he worried his lower lip. He raised his head and met her curious gaze once more. "What'cha gonna do fer the rest of the night? Without that asshole drivin' ya nuts, I mean."
Beth's smirk grew into a bashful smile and she fiddled absent-mindedly with the strap of her purse. She answered honestly, "Um, I was actually thinkin' about takin' a long walk. Maybe down to the cemetery."
He furrowed his brow. "The cemetery? Ain't that miles away?"
She shrugged. "'S only a couple miles." She'd already decided after they passed the intersection. A long walk might clear her head, give her time to think over everything they'd learned so far. Or just give her time to think, period. "And it's nice out, so why not."
He chewed the inside of his cheek for a second before he said, "Yeah, it's nice out. But that's a pretty long walk."
"Well," she said indifferently. "I've done it lots of times before. It's not so long."
He paused, hesitant. Then he asked, "That where yer mama's buried?"
Beth nodded, her lips pressing together tightly.
Daryl turned his head and looked up at the farmhouse, blue eyes narrowing for a second. He gripped the handlebars a little tighter and looked back to Beth.
"Wanna ride?"
A smile curled her lips before she could stop it, her stomach fluttering. "It's a nice offer, but you don't have to do that."
He frowned. "I know. But I want to." He paused again. Then he added, "If it's all the same to you."
At that, she glanced over towards the farmhouse. Still no sign of her family. She wasn't sure they even knew she was outside. Which was fine with her.
How could she turn down such a generous offer?
She met his hopeful gaze and smiled. "Alright, Dixon. If you insist."
He smiled back and she giggled while stepping over and retrieving the helmet she'd just put away, slipping it onto her head. And moments later, she had her arms wrapped around Daryl and the vibration of the engine rattling through her entire body again, speeding away from the farmhouse and down the dirt road.
But this time, they had a different destination in mind. And she could only pray that it would remain free of Merle's presence.
to be continued…
