Parent-Teacher Conference

The inside of the business was small with minimal decorations and a very corporate-run feel to it. There were only a couple other doors—one labelled Restroom off to the right and the other marked Employees Only off to the left. The carpet was a pale blue that matched the wallpaper, and eight separate desks were lined up through the room, all with their own computers and phones and wheely chairs, small half-wall partitions separating each.

Despite the plain appearance, there were little details everywhere to show that real people worked here. Nearly every desk had a tiny pumpkin sitting atop it, along with multiple framed photos and other sentimental trinkets. A few of the partitions were plastered in Halloween cut-outs, little white ghosts and black cats and witches riding broomsticks. And more pumpkins. The wall next to the Employees Only door had an Employee of The Month board posted, and a framed photo of a different smiling employee for each month.

The entire office was quiet today. All of the desks were empty except one, where a slender, dark-skinned woman with long and meticulously dreadlocked hair sat. She was wearing a black pencil skirt and a flowy, dark orange top, perfectly pedicured toes peeking out from the tips of her matching orange, open-toed heels. As soon as the door opened and Rick stepped foot inside, her sharp gaze shot over to observe them.

Beth followed closely behind Daryl, who was following Rick. Before the door could fall shut behind them, the dark-skinned woman was out of her chair and approaching them, intense brown eyes set on Rick and the badge pinned to his shirt.

"Can I help you?" She gave Beth and Daryl no more than brief glances as she stopped before them and directed her tight-lipped smile at the sheriff.

Merle appeared just behind Beth, loitering near the front door and watching silently for a change. Though Beth heard him scoff when he saw the only other woman in the room. She couldn't tell if it was a negative expression or not.

"Yes, ma'am," Rick drawled, using his 'good ole boy' voice that Beth had grown so used to hearing. "I have a meeting with Dale—your supervisor?"

Something flickered in the woman's eyes and her tense smile curled upwards. She held out a hand for Rick to shake. "Of course. I think we spoke on the phone." Her tone was very formal and transparently professional, and she spoke with barely any hint of an accent, Southern or otherwise. But Beth could still tell she'd grown up somewhere around here. "You must be Sheriff Grimes."

Rick took her hand and gave it a soft but hearty shake, returning the woman's smile with a bit more sincerity. "We did. You're Michonne?"

The woman with the dreadlocks—Michonne—smiled a little wider and quirked an eyebrow. "That's me. And who might your companions be?" Her gaze flicked across Beth and Daryl for no more than a second and her forced smile faded. "I must remind you, Mr. Grimes, that Saturdays are typically very busy for us, and we only meet with clients during the week. We have a lot of paperwork to catch up on. Dale doesn't really have time to be sitting down and entertaining y'all."

Rick didn't flinch, even though it was obvious that this woman was trying to intimidate him. (Why she would be trying to intimidate him though, Beth couldn't figure out—did she have something to hide?) He maintained his calm and cool persona, letting his words drawl out in the most disarming Southern accent. "Oh, I know all about catchin' up on paperwork. These are my court-mandated witnesses. It's a complex case, very confidential. We won't keep him fer long. Promise."

He offered a charming half-smile to punctuate the end of his statement, but Michonne seemed less than impressed.

"Ohhh," Merle said, chuckling to himself. "That's why he said she was sassy. She's black."

Beth tried to shoot him a very discreet glare of contempt, but he just rolled his eyes and grunted.

"I didn't say nothin' bad—but c'mon, you can tell when yer talkin' to a darky on the phone," he said matter-of-factly. "Ain't no wonder she was so uncooperative. Look, she's provin' my point right now!"

Beth had to fight her more instinctual urges and force herself to ignore him, to focus on the conversation taking place in front of her. But damn, maybe she should've brought the Djab Idol along after all…

Why was she helping him again? Oh, right—Daryl. Okay. She could move past it. She had to.

Michonne didn't even try to fake a smile for professionalism's sake. She glared back at Rick with blatant disapproval, her jaw clenching and her deep brown eyes flicking over Beth and Daryl once more. Then she said, "Fine. Lemme see if he has time for you. I'll be right back."

Before Rick could respond or thank her, she was turning on her heel and striding very quickly and purposefully across the room towards the door marked Employees Only. She knocked once, turning the knob and pushing the door open without waiting for a response, then disappeared inside a second later.

Beth immediately turned to Merle and said, "Follow her in there—see what she's tellin' him."

Merle looked back at her cluelessly. "Why?"

"Just do it," she hissed, gesturing towards the door with urgency.

He threw up his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine! Fuck." Then he disappeared.

"Good thinkin', Beth," Rick commented. He'd turned to face her and Daryl and the trio huddled together, keeping their voices low.

She nodded. "I don't wanna jump to any conclusions, but this lady's actin' suspicious. Like they've got somethin' to hide."

"I agree," Rick said.

Daryl had a quizzical expression on his face, and he interjected quietly, "Court-mandated witnesses? Is that even a real thing?"

The sheriff shrugged. "Kinda. Not really in this situation, but they don't know that. Just repeat what I said, alrigh'? If they don't wanna cooperate, I'll come up with somethin' else. Y'all just follow my lead."

"Why can't you just go in there and talk to him by yourself?" Beth asked. "Not that I don't wanna be present, but it'd make us look a lot less suspect, don't you think?" She gestured to the stark difference in their appearances, how Rick was clad in a uniform while she and Daryl were in plain clothes.

Daryl nodded and made a grunt of agreement, but Rick waved them off. "We ain't gonna get the answers we really need that way. What if he doesn't wanna tell me nothin'? Or he only tells me what I wanna hear?" He raised his eyebrows and gave Daryl a pointed look, using his own words against him.

The living Dixon's shoulders slumped and he hmphed thoughtfully.

Then Rick looked at Beth and hushed his voice even lower, his tone gone very stern. "You can touch stuff—see things. So why not people?"

Beth furrowed her brow and nearly sputtered in disbelief. "What?" She glanced to Daryl, expecting a matched level of indignance, but he was watching her expectantly. As though the sheriff's suggestion made perfect sense. "You mean like… visions? You think I'm gonna find out the truth by touchin' this guy?"

Rick and Daryl simultaneously shrugged.

"I mean, touchin' that evidence gave you visions," Rick said. "Maybe it's the same with people and y'don't even know it yet."

Daryl chimed in, "Said you made a breakthrough. Said you can do a lot more if you just focus and have—what was it?" He glanced to Rick for help. "Purpose?"

"Intent," Rick corrected.

Beth sighed. "It's both. All three, actually. Purpose, control, and intent."

Rick opened his hands and smiled. "Perfect! You got all those."

She sighed again, this time with an eye-roll.

"Don'tcha?" He asked, his smile faltering.

She shrugged. "I mean, yeah. I guess."

Not what I had in mind, she thought. But when is that ever the case?

Maybe Rick was onto something here. It wouldn't hurt to try, right?

Could it really be that easy?

"Y'know," Daryl muttered, looking at Rick. "This is startin' ta make me feel like a cop. An' I don't much like that feelin'. It's one thing to go snatchin' information from some randos in the city, but this guy pro'lly lives here, pro'lly already knows who we are."

Beth could hear his unspoken words: This guy will know a Dixon when he sees one, and he won't wanna say shit.

Rick frowned. "Well, do you wanna find the guy who murdered your brother or not? Sometimes we gotta do what we gotta do, Daryl," he said plainly. "It's a small town, people are gonna talk no matter what. But yer more than free to step outside and take no part in this. Me an' Beth could prob'ly manage just fine. Honestly though, I'd rather have you there with us."

"So would I," Beth added quietly, meeting Daryl's eyes with a furtive expression.

He sighed and scratched at the stubble on his jaw. "Fine. But it better get us some damn answers…"

Rick raised his eyebrows. "That's what we're all here for, ain't it? Wouldn't have wasted the gas if we didn't think there was good reason."

"This guy pro'lly ain't even heard from The Governor in twenty years," Daryl said. "An' if he's got documents, he'll want a warrant—just like the insurance people."

"We don't know that yet," Beth argued. "He might have another piece to the puzzle. We just gotta figure out where it fits."

Rick smirked. "Couldn'ta said it better myself. Beth's right. This is all part of the process."

Daryl shrugged indifferently. "Whatever." He nodded his head in Rick's direction. "But yer doin' the talkin'."

"Already planned on it," the sheriff agreed.

Beth started, "We have—" but she was abruptly cut off by Merle reappearing beside her.

"The Nubian Queen of the office don't much like police sniffin' 'round on confidential business," he reported. "She's in there arguin' with the boss 'bout needing a warrant. Think she's got him convinced, too. He ain't gonna tell us shit till he's got a judge's signature in his hands. Not sure why—they don't seem like the criminal types to me. But the ol' man sounded a little shook anyhow. She keeps usin' a bunch of fancy legal terms."

"Crap," Beth muttered reflexively. She quickly remembered that the other men couldn't hear Merle, and opened her mouth to explain what he'd said.

But Merle interrupted again, "An' here she comes now ta let y'all get rejected by the bossman personally."

And sure enough, the Employees Only door was opening and Michonne was stepping out. Rick, Daryl, and Beth all spun around to see the dark-skinned woman striding quickly towards them, a satisfied smile on her face. She stopped in front of Rick and gestured towards the door she'd just come out of.

"He said he'd be happy to have a brief chat with you, Mr. Grimes," she said, though the subtext was clear in her tone. A brief chat in which he will very politely tell you no, just like I did.

Rick nodded and smiled at her. "Thank you, Michonne. It'll only be a moment."

Michonne smiled stiffly. "Of course."

She remained where she was and watched the trio as they crossed the small office and stopped in front of the Employees Only door. Rick knocked and a muffled "Come in!" emitted from behind the door, and he didn't hesitate to open it and step inside. As Daryl and Beth trailed closely behind, her eyes drifted up to the wall beside the door, where the Employee of the Month portraits were posted. She noticed that Michonne's photo was hung in the October spot, smiling with perfect white teeth and looking more professional than ever.

Well, that explained why she was the only employee besides the boss in the office on a Saturday.

They entered the small room and shut the door behind them while Merle simply vanished and reappeared inside the office. The only furniture inside was a desk to the right with a chair behind it, two chairs sitting in front of the desk for guests, and a file cabinet shoved into a corner beside a rubber tree plant. The carpet and wallpaper were identical to the rest of the insurance office.

Beth couldn't see the man—Dale—sitting behind the desk past Daryl's broad shoulders. And then, as Daryl stepped aside, Dale stood up and stepped around the desk to greet them, his face obscured once more behind Rick's body as the two men shook hands and formally introduced themselves. Finally, Daryl stepped aside and she saw him, just as he was reaching out and exchanging a stiff handshake with Daryl.

They recognized each other at the same time, once Dale turned and met Beth's curious gaze. He looked almost exactly as she remembered: the same rounded face, the same big, expressive brown eyes, the same bushy black eyebrows and crown of white hair, the same bright white smile. The only difference was the effect of time: he had a few more wrinkles in his face and several more liver spots on his hands and neck, maybe a little less hair than years prior, but he wasn't limping or slouching, which was almost relieving.

She let out a little gasp, though unintentional. Then she smiled.

"Mr. Horvath?"

His dark eyebrows furrowed at first, but then his eyes lit up with recognition and he was returning her smile with one of his own. "Beth Greene? Is that you?"

She nodded and eagerly reached out a hand to shake, which he took in both of his. She felt a chill run down her spine for the briefest second, but admittedly, she hadn't been focusing on seeing anything. Whoops.

Before she could remember what her intentions had been and overcome the surprise of who Dale was, he'd released her hand and taken a half-step back.

"How have you been?" She asked. "I didn't know you worked here—I thought you retired from everything."

Dale chuckled. "Just from teaching. I haven't quite managed to pinch enough pennies for full retirement yet."

Rick and Daryl were looking back and forth between Beth and Dale with obvious confusion.

Just as Beth was about to ask another question, the sheriff interjected, "Y'all know each other?"

"He was a substitute teacher at my high school," she explained.

Merle barked out a laugh. "'Course he was. Fuckin' small towns."

Daryl was shaking his head, but one glance at the expression on his face and Beth could tell he was thinking exactly what his dead brother had just said.

"That's right," Dale said cheerfully, looking to Rick. "She was one of the brightest students I ever had the pleasure of teaching. Even if only for brief periods of time." He shot Beth a wink and she beamed proudly.

It was true, Dale Horvath had always been one of her favorite teachers, even though he was just a substitute. She'd met his wife a few times when they'd visit the Greenes' church here and there. He'd basically known her since she was in middle school. Though she hadn't seen him around town in quite some time—she'd heard from her daddy that Dale had grown a bit reclusive after his wife died. She'd had cancer, like Annette. And she'd lost the battle after over a year of fighting, also much like Annette. Beth had wanted to go to Irma Horvath's funeral, but when the day came, she'd ended up having a panic attack and spending the entire day in bed. It had been only a year after her mama's funeral, and something about the prospect of another funeral had sent her into a dark spiral that took several days to break free from.

She still felt bad about bailing, and even worse knowing that he'd taken the time to attend her graduation in the midst of his wife's cancer treatments. But the fear of facing his inevitable disappointment had kept Beth from attempting to reach out to him after that. She'd heard he'd retired a few years back, and last she knew, he'd been taking a trip around the country in the RV that he and his late wife had purchased shortly before her diagnosis. He'd always talked about their dream of travelling the country once they were both retired.

Beth had already known that substituting at the high school was nothing more than a part-time side gig for Mr. Horvath, but she'd never actually taken the time to ask what he did full-time. Or maybe he'd mentioned it and she'd forgotten. Either way, she had her answer now: he worked at the only insurance company in town.

And a decade before she met him, he'd worked right alongside a murderer.

"Well, how 'bout that," Rick mused, smiling curiously as he looked from Beth to Dale. "Small world."

Dale's smile faltered and his gaze flicked back over to the sheriff. He gave a wary glance at Daryl, then said, "This is odd, Sheriff. Michonne seems to think you wanna have some kinda chat that would require a warrant—but these two are with you." He gestured to Beth and Daryl.

Rick frowned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other where he stood and hooking his thumbs into the front of his belt.

Dale quickly added, "Not that I wouldn't be more than happy to catch up with Miss Greene here—" he shot Beth a warm smile and she returned it "—it's just that you and I spoke on the phone about somethin' in particular, and I can't see what the reasoning would be for their presence."

Rick quipped back without missing a beat, "That's the thing, Mr. Horvath. This is a very confidential case. These two are my court-mandated witnesses. I know, it's a little unconventional to have civilians assisting me—"

"A little unconventional?" Dale repeated, eyes widening.

"As of right now, I'm not permitted to disclose the exact purpose of their presence," Rick insisted. "Just know that whatever we discuss will stay between those of us in this room. You have my word."

Dale raised an eyebrow and said, "No offense, Sheriff Grimes, but your word doesn't mean diddly-squat to me. In all honesty, I voted for Officer Walsh to be sheriff. I've been less than impressed with your record in the department, and knowing that you've been given court-mandated witnesses, civilian or otherwise, is—I think, needless to say—a bit more than worrying." He flashed Beth an apologetic look before finishing very firmly, "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask for a warrant, sir. And if you don't have one, I'll be choosing to exercise my rights as an American citizen."

Rick sighed, staring back at the old man with a stiff expression. "So you're refusing to cooperate until I produce a warrant?"

Dale nodded.

Merle scoffed, slashing an arm through the air angrily and stalking off to sulk in the corner. "Jus' like I predicted—pointless. What's next? Track down the booty call so she can shoot us down, too? Well, let's get goin'."

Daryl took a step forward and spoke up, his voice gruff as he audibly fought to control his temper, "You don't even know who we wanna ask you about, how you gonna turn us away like that? The hell're you so worried about us findin' out, old man?"

Rick put out a hand and held it just in front of Daryl's chest, prepared to keep him back at a respectable distance. Dale appeared a bit taken aback, but he quickly grew defensive, speaking directly to Daryl now.

"No, I don't know, and that's why I'm refusing. None of you have any right to come barging in here and demanding answers for God-knows-what."

Rick remained calm and measured. "If you ain't done nothin' wrong, then you ain't got nothin' to hide."

This statement seemed to infuriate Dale. His eyes went wide and he looked at the sheriff indignantly before snapping back, "That's exactly what the Gestapo would say. This isn't a police state, Rick Grimes. And I won't be bullied into incriminating myself and getting involved with some bullshit case that has nothing to do with me."

"He ain't wrong, ya know!" Merle remarked. "Y'all done fucked this one up by lettin' Officer Friendly go all Nazi on the old fucker."

Beth ignored him and focused on the two men bickering before her, and how Daryl was clearly forcing himself to stay a half-step behind Rick and not lash out like he wanted to. But the dead Dixon was right.

She knew Dale. He could be stubborn, but he always had his reasons. He was a smart, logical, morally driven man. A lot like her daddy. That's why she'd always liked him so much. Rick and Daryl were approaching this all wrong. They were attacking him and offending him. When all they needed to do was appeal to his senses.

He was a good, God-fearing man. He would want to help. He just needed a justifiable reason.

Despite her desire to step in and referee, she was frozen in place, speechless as she witnessed the three men bickering. She wanted to defend Dale, but she had an obligation to defend Rick and Daryl. Plus, why would Mr. Horvath be so resistant to answering questions? What was he afraid of?

He's afraid of what he can't control, a voice whispered at the very back of her mind. He's afraid of being guilty by association. He's afraid of learning that someone he knew could be capable of terrible things.

"Say his name," Merle croaked.

She nearly jumped, unaware of the dead Dixon's close proximity when he spoke from right behind her. She didn't look back at him.

"Calm down now," Rick said, putting up his hands in surrender. "It ain't like that. Nobody's tryn'a incriminate you, least of all me. I don't care who ya voted for, this isn't personal by any means."

Dale's wide eyes were set on the sheriff. "That's why you're here on a Saturday with two civilians and no warrant?"

"Say his fuckin' name," Merle spoke louder.

A chill ran down Beth's spine. She didn't want to. She didn't want to risk ruining this whole thing, spooking Dale into complete silence.

She suddenly felt Daryl's eyes on her and met his gaze. He seemed to read something on her face that she hadn't even realized she'd been expressing. He looked back to Dale and crossed his arms over his chest, resembling Merle for the briefest moment.

"You knew Philip Blake," Daryl said flatly. "True or false?"

Dale's face went pale and he wouldn't meet Daryl's gaze for longer than a second. Merle cackled with satisfaction and took a step back, away from Beth.

Dale quickly shook his head and said, "I haven't heard that name in over a decade. Whatever he's done now has nothing to do with me." He looked at Rick with defiance, his mouth set in a flat line and his brown eyes still wide and alight.

Rick repeated his words with extra emphasis, "Whatever he's done now?"

Daryl interjected, "So this ain't the first time somebody's come 'round askin' ya 'bout him."

Dale's expression remained rigid and unchanging, defiant.

"This ain't the first time somebody's connected The Governor back to you," Rick guessed, narrowing his icy blue eyes at the old man. "Ain't that right, Mr. Horvath?"

Beth bristled and she could practically see the invisible walls around Dale rising higher and growing thicker at the sound of Philip's alias.

No no no, this was all wrong. Why were they interrogating her old teacher like he was some kind of criminal?

But what the hell was she supposed to say to fix it? How could she step in and make this better without sacrificing the entire purpose of their visit?

Dale straightened his back and squared his shoulders, and when he spoke, he was focused on Rick. "I think it's time y'all leave. I have paperwork to finish, and I'd prefer not to spend my entire Saturday in the office."

Rick sighed, defeated. Daryl tensed up like he was preparing to argue, but one look from the sheriff snapped his lips shut and curled his mouth into a scowl. Merle was sulking behind Beth, watching with narrowed eyes and a scowl that matched his brother's.

"I understand," Rick said, audibly disappointed and frustrated. "I assume I'll have to get that warrant before we speak again."

"That's the first accurate assumption you've made all day, Sheriff Grimes," Dale quipped.

Then the old man turned and looked at Beth, the rigid expression on his face softening to an apologetic gaze. "I'm sorry Beth, but I'm just not sure what you're doing with these men and I cannot, in all good conscience, sit down and speak with y'all about someone I haven't worked with in nearly twenty years."

She nodded, warmth blossoming across her face. She wasn't sure why she suddenly felt so embarrassed, but she did. She felt like she'd done Dale wrong somehow. "It's okay, Mr. Horvath. I understand. We just…"

Beth paused, sighing and glancing away for a second before returning his gaze with an almost pathetic look. She shrugged sadly. "Well, nevermind. You have every right to say no. It was nice to see you again."

Wait… was she really about to play this card in order to get the answers they'd come for?

She met Rick's eyes for a split-second and they seemed to silently communicate. And just like that, she decided: yes. Yes, she was about to play that card.

There was a man's life at stake here. A man's soul. When she listened close, she could hear Papa Legba laughing coldly from somewhere at the very back of her mind. She could feel him waiting for her to slip up.

She had no choice but to play every card she'd been dealt.

Without any more argument, Rick nodded his head at Dale and motioned for Daryl to follow his lead.

"You have a good day now, Mr. Horvath," the sheriff said.

"You do the same." Dale relaxed at that and watched with visible relief as Rick and Daryl turned and headed for the door.

"What the fuck?!" Merle cried, watching the scene play out with nothing less than indignation, completely oblivious to the silent exchange between Rick, Daryl, and Beth. He threw his hands up in the air and let out a groan of frustration. "That's it? We ain't even gonna strap 'im down? No Good Cop-Bad Cop? No waterboarding? This is such bullshit!"

He was clearly more than ready to leave, and proved so by promptly disappearing in an angry huff.

But Beth ignored him and hesitated, waiting until the other two living men had stepped out of the room before she moved to follow them.

And then, just as she did, Dale's voice caught her attention from over her shoulder.

"Beth, wait—"

She stopped and turned back, fully aware that Rick and Daryl were already stepping away from the open door and crossing the office to where Michonne was waiting for them. But she kept the same pitiful, defeated expression plastered on her face.

Dale lowered his voice and took a step towards her until they were less than an arm's reach apart. He looked down at her with genuine concern and asked, "You're runnin' around with the Sheriff and a Dixon boy? Does yer daddy know about this?"

Beth huffed out a breath and smiled almost bashfully, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Mr. Horvath. He knows. And he's pretty fond of 'em both."

Dale didn't seem relieved by that statement. His eyebrows rose and his eyes widened once more. "So what are you doin' with them? Besides interrogating people who've lived in this town longer than you've been alive?"

Beth reeled at that, a bit shaken by the harsh tone in her former teacher's voice, but tried not to let it show. However, she was pretty sure it did, because as soon as he'd said it, a mixture of regret and confusion appeared on Dale's face. He looked like he was about to apologize.

But she quickly cut him off, forcing all of her remaining confidence into her voice, "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

His dark eyebrows furrowed together and a deep crease formed in his forehead. He frowned, gazing down at her uncertainly.

"Y'know," he started very slowly, keeping his voice low and his eyes focused intensely on hers. "I never questioned your absence at Irma's funeral."

Beth's breath hitched in her throat.

"But," he went on, growing more somber. "I heard… about your accident." He nodded his head very vaguely towards the general direction of her left wrist. "I'm glad you recovered. And I want you to know that I understand. I've never held ill feelings towards you, Beth. Grief is one hell of a monster, and we all have to fight it off in our own way. On our own time."

Beth swallowed hard and struggled to maintain eye contact. She felt all of two inches tall as she realized how awful she was for trying to play the sympathy card against this man. He didn't owe her anything, least of all his knowledge about Philip Blake.

Nonetheless… she needed that information.

"Thank you," she choked out, immediately clearing her throat and glancing away sheepishly. She could feel her cheeks blushing hot again. "I'm sorry I never made it to Irma's funeral. I… just couldn't do it."

"I know," Dale said.

"Mr. Horvath, I felt awful," she admitted. "Because you came to my graduation and made time to congratulate me. But I couldn't even show up when it mattered most."

Crap. Where was this coming from? She hadn't meant to play this deep into the sympathy card.

But then again, maybe it wasn't part of the play at all. Maybe she was just being honest with someone she hadn't seen in years.

Dale shook his head. "Don't think of it that way. I would've attended your graduation come Hell or high water." He gave her a light-hearted smile that she couldn't help but mirror, though it quickly faded. "Losing Irma was a little too much like losing Annette. You had to do what was best for you. I've known that for quite some time."

She nodded meekly, clasping her hands together in front of her like she was fifteen years old and asking for a chance at extra credit again. "Yeah. That's—well, like I said, it's hard to explain—but that's part of the reason I'm tryin' to help Sheriff Grimes and Daryl."

Dale frowned, gazing back at her quizzically. "How so?"

"Closure," she replied simply.

Something darkened in Dale's eyes and he glanced away. Frowning deeply, he sighed, and without meeting her eyes, he muttered, "This has something to do with that Dixon boy, doesn't it?"

Beth nodded but didn't speak, pursing her lips and trying to remain discreet.

He sighed again, hesitating. Then he muttered very quietly, "I heard his brother hung himself…"

A pregnant pause hung in the air between Beth and Dale. She stared back at him expectantly, waiting for him to meet her eyes.

When he finally did, he softly asked, "That's not true… is it?"

He was watching her. Tense with dread as he awaited an answer.

She slowly shook her head.

He glanced over her shoulder, assuring that Rick and Daryl had walked away from the open door behind her. Then he turned and headed to the chair behind his desk.

"Close the door and sit down, Beth. I think we have some things to discuss."

to be continued…