Saturdays Are For (tracking a murderer with) The Boys
It was a fifteen or twenty minute drive from the Greene Farm into town, depending on how closely one were to follow the speed limit. And Rick Grimes had a tendency to speed through country roads, so it probably wouldn't take them very long at all to reach Senoia. However, it was just the right amount of time for Beth to fill them in on the little breakthrough she'd had with her Gift.
Not that she could've avoided explaining it anyway. As soon as the Game of Thrones subject had died out, Daryl was twisting around in his seat and looking back at Beth with genuine intrigue. She could already tell from his face what he was going to ask. She recalled their text conversation and prepared herself for the questions she knew were coming in the split-second before he vocalized them.
"Said ya had a breakthrough last night? And it was good? Wha's that mean?"
Rick briefly glanced back at her with the same intrigue as Daryl. "Is this Gift related?"
Merle piped up, "Oh, this should be good."
Beth ignored him and nodded towards Daryl and Rick. "Yeah. Very Gift related."
Merle chuckled. "Ya gonna spill the deets, princess? Or are you playin' coy now? You was soundin' awfully cocky earlier."
"So what happened?" Daryl urged her on, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "You have another vision? See somethin' important?"
"Um, not exactly." She hesitated, quickly becoming deflated by the realization that this breakthrough didn't really affect Daryl directly. Or any of them, except her. Maybe she should've kept it to herself. "It was more of… learnin' how to control it. I looked up some stuff, tried a different approach—"
"Ain't gonna mention my helpful suggestion, I see," Merle remarked bitterly.
She tried to tune him out, uncertain beneath Daryl's intent gaze. The living Dixon seemed to be hanging on her every word, and Rick kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror, practically grinning with excitement.
"I uh, meditated," she went on, her voice wavering with self-doubt. But Daryl didn't look any less invested, so she continued. "I guess it sounds silly, but that's what the articles suggested."
"Articles?" Daryl asked. "Like—ya Googled it?"
Merle cackled.
"Nah, that makes sense," Rick said. "Meditation is probably like a first step to this kinda thing. I'll bet there's all kinds of stuff on the internet about it."
Relieved to have his undying support, Beth smiled at the sheriff and added, "Not as much as you'd think, actually. I did a bunch of searches and barely found anything. But the meditation worked."
Daryl shrugged, seemingly convinced. "Worked, huh?"
"Surprisingly well," Beth replied. "It's hard to explain, but it felt like I was—oh, I dunno. Accessing some kinda home base inside me." She shook her head, suppressing a small smile. "If that even makes sense."
Daryl and Rick both appeared to contemplate her words for a moment, then Rick hummed thoughtfully and Daryl shrugged again. Merle was looking over at Beth with an indecipherable expression, though he was quiet and appeared to be listening, which was never a bad thing.
"Like a…" Rick snapped his fingers, searching for the right term.
"Like the home base in a baseball game? Or like the startin' point fer a maze?" Daryl guessed.
Rick suggested, "Maybe it's like the motherboard of a computer, but the computer's her mind an' the motherboard's like the central system of all the Gift operations."
Daryl chuckled. "You been spendin' too much time with Eugene."
Rick laughed.
Beth interjected and tried to explain, "It was kinda like a mixture of all that."
The two living men furrowed their brows and gave her mirrored looks of confusion while Merle stared her down very expectantly, wordlessly urging her to extrapolate.
"It was my bedroom. And there were boxes and suitcases everywhere, and the door to the hallway was actually The Veil to the Other Side. My closet door was locked, and I couldn't get inside. I, um…"
She paused. And in that moment, she decided to keep the detail of hearing her dead mother's voice a secret. She hadn't even told Maggie that part. It sounded a little too crazy, she reckoned. Even in this context.
They just wouldn't get it.
"I saw Tabitha."
Daryl's eyes lit up, and Merle sat up a little straighter.
She quickly continued, "She was an owl. But I knew it was her. She was tellin' me that I'm not alone. And then Papa Legba tried to convince me to open the door to the Other Side."
"You saw him there?" Rick asked.
"No," she assured. "I heard him outside the door. He tried to trick me into letting him in."
"But you said no," Daryl interjected. "Right?"
Beth rolled her eyes. "Of course I said no. I'm not stupid."
Rick's eyebrows had risen halfway up his forehead, and even though he wasn't glancing at her in the rearview mirror every two seconds, Beth knew he was enraptured with everything she was saying. She also knew it had to be some kind of miracle that this perfectly logical and respectable man still believed every word that came out of her mouth, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.
"Then what happened?" Daryl urged, nearly resembling a small child hearing a bedtime story.
"I came back," Beth said simply. And when her statement was met with understandable confusion, she explained, "Gettin' back from those places, even in my own head, is apparently half the battle. It's important that I can visit and still return."
"Just like I told ya—go figure," Merle remarked.
"Okay, I'm followin' along," Rick said.
But Daryl's brow was creased and he looked intensely thoughtful. Regardless, he followed up with another question: "There's more, ain't there?"
Merle chuckled. "Damn boy can read you like a book already, blondie." He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled with smug satisfaction. "Taught 'im everythin' he knows, best believe he's got you down to a T by now."
For the thousandth time, she chose to ignore the dead Dixon and focus on the living brother before her.
Beth huffed out a breath and smirked, sharing a look with Daryl that felt somehow personal. Almost intimate.
"There's always more."
Beth managed to condense all the important bits of her dream adventure and meeting with the Witch of Youghal into a comprehensive explanation for everyone in the car while they drove the last ten minutes to get to town. Rick's jaw was close to hitting the floor by the time she was done, Merle was blinking incredulously (mostly appalled that he was only just now learning this new and vital information), and Daryl just stared at Beth while still twisted around in his seat, an expression of both understanding and complete bewilderment on his face.
Obviously, she'd left out any details concerning Daryl, and she'd completely reworded just about everything she'd said to Florence. She also left out the minor freak-out she'd experienced, unwilling to admit that she'd basically begged a 400-year-old Witch for guidance through her own childish fears. Nonetheless, she relayed the most important information and got the message across. And all three men, dead and otherwise, seemed pleased—and baffled—by what they'd just learned.
Afterwards, Beth couldn't help but blush and look away bashfully. Daryl turned back to face the front, and she hoped the insurance company wasn't much farther. Because she hadn't planned for this conversation, and the current silence felt awkward for some reason.
Were they shocked that she'd been able to summon such power from within herself? Or were they simply shocked by the sudden onslaught of revelations? She'd like to think it was the latter, but she was also a young farm girl who claimed to have the ability to talk to dead people, so it was anyone's guess.
All she could really hope was that they weren't underestimating her in the same way she'd been underestimating herself this whole time.
They finally passed the big blue sign that declared, Welcome To Senoia! Population 3330. And their focus shifted to the task at hand.
"So d'we got any idea what we're walkin' into?" Daryl asked, pulling out his pack of smokes and lighting one up. "Who we might be lookin' to talk to?"
Rick turned onto Main Street and slowed to the permitted 20 mph, glancing in the rearview mirror at Beth before looking over at Daryl.
"Yeah, I talked to a real nice fella on the phone this mornin'," the sheriff explained. "Lady that called me back yesterday wasn't quite as cooperative. Little too sassy, if ya ask me. But I asked her to talk to her supervisor about the situation. That resolved it pretty quick. Guy named Dale. Said he'd be more'an happy to sit down an' chat with us. Apparently, he's been workin' there fer about thirty years—way before they got bought out. I didn't wanna mention Philip's name over the phone—y'know, just in case somebody decides to dig out some files an' have a shredding party or sum'n. But from the sounds of it, I think this guy might know somethin' 'bout him."
"What makes you think that?" Beth asked curiously.
Rick smirked, one hand on the steering wheel while his other arm rested on the edge of the open driver's side window, letting the mid-October chill breeze over his skin and ruffle his short hair. "'Cause when I suggested a discussion about a past employee, he got real quiet right before he very eagerly agreed to sit down with me—in private. Didn't try to weasel his way out neither. I think this is somethin' he's been expecting for a while now."
"Hope yer right," Daryl grumbled, taking a drag off his cigarette and ashing it out the open passenger's side window.
"I've learned how to read people," Rick said matter-of-factly, eyes focused on the road ahead. "I can tell when they're hidin' somethin', even over the phone. And I don't get the feelin' that this guy is tryin' to hide anything. In fact, it's quite the opposite; I think he's been waitin' fer somebody to come around askin' about Philip. The Governor can only kill so many people 'fore his past starts catchin' up to him."
"Who's to say his old coworker would suspect him to be a murderer, though?" Beth asked. "I mean… who would ever expect that from someone they worked with?"
Rick shrugged, then he gave Beth a meaningful look in the rearview mirror, blue eyes narrowed and intent. "Trust me: you don't need to have any kinda supernatural Gift to know when somebody ain't right. Lots'a folks can sense that shit from a mile away. I couldn't even begin to tell ya how many cases I solved because of some random neighbors' or coworkers' gut feelings. People hear things, see things, think they don't mean nothin'. But then it turns out to be just another clue that leads us to the answer… And somebody like The Governor is bound to have a whole trail of suspicious behavior. I'd bet my salary that he's left a slew of incriminating evidence behind him everywhere he went. 'Specially if he was dumb enough to get caught at one point. Reckon he's the kinda criminal who relied on takin' advantage of the system—ya know, before we had all the technology we got now."
Beth had to admit that Rick had a point. Small towns like Senoia and Fayetteville, and even small metropolitans like Peachtree City, all with populations far below 40,000 people, didn't have the kind of access to police technology as their larger counterparts until about fifteen or twenty years ago. And was it coincidence or just plain happenstance that Philip had done his dirty deeds undetected… until about fifteen or twenty years ago?
If they were wagering real money, she'd probably double down on Rick's bet and guess that he knew what he was talking about. He might be a small town sheriff, but that didn't make him any less good at what he did.
Rick slowed the car to a stop at a red light, though there were no more than five other vehicles waiting at the intersection. Senoia was fairly quiet and still for a Saturday afternoon, save for the handful of teenagers riding around in jacked-up trucks and beaten-down old cars. He resituated his hand on the steering wheel and looked out his open window, his gaze drifting across the carwash to their left and the one whole vehicle that was currently parked outside of it.
Daryl chimed in, "'Spose we all got a natural sense fer sniffin' out evil."
Rick grunted in agreement. "That's one way to put it."
Merle scoffed loudly, but Beth ignored him. She'd already accepted the fact that he would never be totally okay with Rick Grimes' side of things, or the fact that his baby brother was often agreeing with the sheriff.
"What about the judge lady?" Beth reminded them. "Did she get back to you yet?"
Rick cleared his throat, pressing his foot down on the gas pedal as soon as the light turned green. "Yeah, she got back to me."
There was a beat of silence.
Daryl urged, "And…?"
Rick shrugged, sliding his hand down to rest on the bottom right quarter of the steering wheel while he leisurely drove down the business-lined street of Senoia. "And she said she's willing to sit down an' talk with us next week. If we really need her insight."
Beth huffed out a humorless laugh. "Why wouldn't we need her insight? She was one of the last people to spend time with Merle before he died. Kinda seems to me like she might have one of those 'gut feelings' or 'clues' that you mentioned. Plus, we know how terrible Merle is at relaying information accurately, so maybe she's got some details he left out."
Merle huffed out, "Hey!" But she ignored him.
Daryl grunted in agreement and Rick squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
"Yeah, I know y'all are right," the sheriff admitted. "I just don't like botherin' somebody with that kinda power to help solve a case like this. People like her aren't much interested when there ain't a warrant that needs signed. She's likely to turn me in an' claim I'm goin' rogue, or tryin' to become some kinda vigilante."
"Ain't gotta worry 'bout that," Merle chirped up, more smug than ever. "That bitch has been teeterin' on the edge of losin' her judgeship fer years. She wouldn't risk throwin' the most popular sheriff under the bus over some shit like this. It'd be more trouble'an it's worth fer her." Beth looked over at him and he shot her a confident smirk. "Trust me," he drawled.
Beth raised her eyebrows in slight disbelief, but she was inclined to take Merle at his word. For whatever reason.
"Merle seems to think you got nothin' to worry about," she said, meeting Rick's wary eyes in the rearview mirror and Daryl's surprised gaze from over his shoulder. "He says she's been teetering on losing her judgeship fer years now. She won't throw you under the bus fer somethin' like this. It'd be too risky. She's not gonna be willing to blow up her own spot just to try and get you in trouble."
Rick hmphed thoughtfully while Daryl tossed out his burnt-down cigarette butt.
"Interesting," the sheriff hummed, scrubbing a hand across his stubbly beard as he squinted at the road ahead. "Must be why she transferred counties a few years back. I heard she got kinda pushed out, but nobody seemed to really know why… Maybe she's worth talkin' to after all. Reckon it wouldn't hurt to try—so long as she doesn't go reportin' my ass fer misconduct."
Merle scoffed, but Beth assured, "It really doesn't sound like she would do that. I think we should talk to her."
To her surprise, Daryl eagerly spoke up in agreement. "Yeah. We should. If she ain't got nothin' to hide that could get her in more trouble, I'on't see why she wouldn't be willing to tell us what she knows."
"Shit," Merle chuckled. "Y'all could always threaten to tell her boss 'bout the little tryst we had. Pretty sure they already had their suspicions, all you'd be doin' is givin' 'em the testimony they need to can her ass."
Beth eagerly interpreted his message to the two living men inside the car: "Merle's pretty sure her superiors had their suspicions about him and her hooking up—he says we could use that against her." She paused and added a bit apologetically, "If we have to."
Daryl shot her a look over his shoulder, but it was fleeting and she nearly missed it. If she was interpreting it correctly though, she thought he might've looked a bit impressed. Not that she was necessarily proud of suggesting blackmail.
Rick shrugged, slowing the car as he approached another intersection. "Alright—yeah. That's good. I s'pose… I never been much fer blackmail, but…"
"Last resort," Daryl said.
"Very last resort," Beth added.
"Right," Rick said. "Well, If y'all are so sure, we'll give it a try. Guess I'll just have ta keep my fingers crossed that nobody'll be fillin' out reports about me anytime soon…"
Beth chuckled and Daryl scoffed.
"Yer paranoid," Daryl muttered.
"Never said I wasn't," Rick quipped, flashing his friend a smirk. "Gotta cover my ass, don't I? Ain't nobody else gonna pay Lori all that child support she's demanding."
"What a bitch," Merle remarked. "Pussy-whipped bastard."
"Nah," Daryl said. "Understandable."
Beth ignored the dead Dixon and quickly agreed, "It's alright. We get it."
And she did. But she couldn't help thinking that even if the sheriff wasn't willing to take that one step farther, she and Daryl would be.
They'd go over his head if they had to. They had no other choice.
SafeZone National Insurance sat nestled within the heart of Senoia's small business district, a block away from Main Street and just between Barnes and Travis Street. A single blue sign posted in the front window boasted, "Over 50 Million Satisfied Americans and Counting!"
The building was easy to miss, seeing as it was situated right between a coffee shop and a salon, the front windows easily the most plain of all the businesses that occupied the street. The sign was a simple blue and white in block letters, and Beth would've overlooked it completely if she hadn't been searching for it.
No wonder she'd never bothered to take notice of the place before this. Even in a small town like Senoia, businesses like these were practically invisible unless you had a specific reason to visit.
Now that she was getting out of the car and gazing thoughtfully at the big glass windows, she was able to recall faint memories of driving by as a kid. It had always been part of the background—one of those things she always observed but never really looked at. Until it changed. She could remember that it had borne a different sign when she was really little. But sometime around kindergarten, the sign had changed. She'd only noticed because the sight was part of her routine; driving by with her mom when she brought Beth along to run errands, two or three days a week. She'd taken note of it like the changing color of leaves.
It wasn't one of those differences you really put much thought into, though. Just another little change in her ever-evolving hometown. Like the McDonald's in the center of town that had closed down and turned into a locally-owned cafe for a few years when she was in junior high, only to go under and permanently be replaced by a gas station. Or the bowling alley at the south edge of town that had shut down and been reopened as a Chinese buffet when she was in high school. Or even the bar that sat just outside of town and relocated to the opposite side—though still teetering on the city limits and boring the exact same name and management—shortly after she'd graduated.
All these little changes and differences had been taking place around her for her entire life, and even though she'd been born and raised right outside of Senoia, she still didn't know even half the people who called this town home. Which was a bit of an upsetting realization—she liked to think she knew this little corner of Georgia and everyone in it, that she knew how things worked around here. That everyone who knew her family's story had spent time with her or walked around her farm or sat in church beside her or even attended a class with her; that they'd shaken her hand and introduced themselves at one point or another, maybe even offered their respects.
She liked to think that people like Philip Blake were strictly outsiders who'd weaseled their way into her quiet little hometown under the guise of better intentions. She wanted to tell herself, very badly, that people like him didn't just live amongst them and move about undetected. That they didn't get overlooked or falsely trusted.
But now she was accepting the fact that someone like The Governor had most likely been born and bred here. Just like her. And she probably never would've given him—or anyone else—a second thought if it weren't for the dead guy literally screaming in her ear for a week straight.
What else had she overlooked? What other naive presumptions had she been making for nearly her entire life?
"You need me to come in for this one, or…?"
Merle's voice broke through Beth's thoughts and she gave him an incredulous look. He rolled his eyes and lit up a cigarette anyway.
She followed Rick and Daryl up to the front door of the small insurance business, pausing along with them in the middle of the sidewalk. Rick turned to face them both, a serious expression on his face.
"So we're gonna go in here an' ask to speak to Dale," the sheriff explained. "And is some bossy woman tries to intervene, just tell her it's confidential business. As far as these folks are concerned, I'm lookin' into a private case and y'all are my witnesses. If anybody wants details, we aren't allowed to disclose that kind of information at this stage of the investigation. Got it?"
Beth and Daryl nodded in understanding.
Merle chuckled from where he was leaning beside the front door, a cigarette pinched between his fingers. "Yeah, let's roll the dice an' see how well this goes. Officer Friendly's got it all handled."
Beth shot him a sidelong glare over Daryl's shoulder and snapped back, "If we need you, maybe you should try giving a crap and helpin' us out for once."
Daryl looked at Beth, confused. "Huh? I didn't—"
"I think she's talkin' to Merle," Rick said with a smirk.
"I am," Beth explained, glancing to Daryl. "He's behind you. Sorry."
Merle laughed, shaking his head, but Daryl just turned away bashfully. "Still gettin' used to that."
"Hey, we all are," Rick assured, chuckling softly. Then he cleared his throat and gestured toward the front door. "Well, shall we?" He gave Beth a pointed look. "You ready?"
She knew what he meant. Was she ready to channel her Gift, control it, and attempt to milk this place dry of whatever clues it had to offer that might lead them to Philip Blake?
Was she ready to put herself to the test once again, with purpose and intent?
She nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."
to be continued…
