A Jury of Your Fears
"You didn't see what I saw," Beth said, her spine going rigid in the backseat of the sheriff's car as she spoke with determination to the two men sitting up front. "You didn't feel what I felt. Dale tried to do what was right, but it didn't matter. 'Cause Philip Blake doesn't care about what's right. He just does what he wants and destroys anybody who tries to get in his way."
Daryl was still turned away, staring out the passenger side window and chewing on his thumbnail. Rick was diverting his gaze as well, a contemplative expression on his face.
Merle was the only one who seemed to be taking this well. He wasn't smirking or laughing like usual, but he was listening. He was agreeing. And as much as Beth hated to admit it, he was being somewhat supportive.
She couldn't imagine why he was the only one in the car who was empathizing with her point. But… whatever. She was willing to take what she could get right now.
Rick cleared his throat and dragged his eyes up to meet Beth's. "But he was an accessory to murder, Beth. If he really wanted to do what was right, he woulda—"
"What?" Beth interrupted, leaning forward and speaking sharply, in a tone she'd never dared take with the sheriff before this. "He would've what? Told the cops everything, given himself up, served time in prison? Lost his wife? Lost his friends and his home and his job and everything he'd ever worked for? Maybe even lost his life if Philip decided to kill him for snitching?!" Beth narrowed her eyes, an anger rising up within her that was not her own. "Is that what you would've done, Sheriff Grimes? For some family that you barely knew—some family that you couldn't help no matter how hard you tried?"
Rick blinked and turned back around in his seat. Beth could see his uncomfortable reflection in the rearview mirror.
"When did he try?" Daryl asked, without so much as a glance back in Beth's direction. He was still staring out the window and chewing on his thumbnail.
Beth paused. She swallowed hard and replayed the memory inside her head. Then she said, "Before you were born. Everybody knew how yer mama was treated. And nobody did anything about it. But Dale tried. And your mama told him to mind his business… I don't think he tried again after that."
In near perfect unison, both Daryl and Merle grunted out, "You saw that?"
Beth's heart panged. She'd left this part out for a reason. She didn't want to have to relay it.
"Yeah," she muttered listlessly. "I didn't want to. But I did. Your daddy was… a real bad man. No one could convince your mom to leave him."
"No shit," Merle grumbled.
Daryl chewed even harder on his thumbnail, downright gnawing at it, and kept staring out the window. He didn't make a sound. But Beth knew he'd heard her.
Then she looked at Rick in the rearview mirror and added, "If y'all wanna condemn Dale, then you'd better be ready to condemn everybody else in town, too. 'Cause they all knew what Will Dixon did, and none of 'em did a damn thing to stop it. Dale might've been the alibi, but he's the only one who stepped in and tried to prevent it before it became a murder case."
Rick started to argue weakly, "Yeah, but—"
Beth cut him off, "But nothing. You know just as well as I do that even if Dale had told the cops everything he knew, they probably couldn't have done anything. It wasn't just the alibi that got Will and Philip off the hook. There wasn't enough evidence to convict them. Period. They would've gotten away with it no matter what, because that's how they planned it. Philip might be sick, but that doesn't mean he's not smart."
For a brief second, she thought, Maybe if Dale had stolen that journal before Philip destroyed it…
But that was irrelevant at this point. He hadn't taken the journal. He never had any evidence that Philip was responsible for the Dixon fire. No one did. There was no fixing that, even thirty years later.
Merle cleared his throat as though he were shoving down a painful knot. His blue eyes looked a little watery when he chuckled and said, "Shit, blondie. Yer startin' to sound like me."
Beth shot him a contemptuous glare.
He shrugged. "'Sposed ta be a compliment."
She rolled her eyes.
Rick heaved a sigh and turned his head to look from Beth to Daryl and back again. "Well, I think it's pretty clear we make a better investigative team than we do a jury. We don't all have to agree on everything. Jus' what matters. And what matters is findin' Blake and stopping him."
"Agreed," Beth said. "We can't change what already happened, but we can change what happens next."
"I've been sayin' that," Merle piped up. "Y'all just ain't wanna listen to the dead guy."
Can you blame us? Beth wanted to retort. But she held her tongue and resisted the urge to talk to a ghost while in the company of the living.
Daryl finally turned his head to glance at Rick, an agitated expression on his face. "We jus' gonna sit here in front'a Dairy Queen all day, or are we gonna start headin' back?"
With a frown, Rick started up the car. Beth buckled her seatbelt and tried to catch Daryl's eye, but he'd already turned to stare out the window again.
Had she just screwed everything up by mentioning the memory of Leanne and Will? Had it been ignorant for her to think she could omit certain details and get away with it?
She couldn't help but regret ever opening her mouth to begin with.
Beth's half-finished milkshake was sitting between her knees, all but forgotten, as she gazed out the window and watched Senoia pass by. The silence inside the car was heavy and tense. Daryl's unspoken anger was radiating outward from his body, punctuated by his stiff shoulders and the continued gnawing on his thumbnail. Rick was visibly tense as well, one hand on the steering wheel and the other idly scratching at the stubble on his jaw. The radio was quietly playing the only classic rock station that could be picked up from within city limits.
"You gonna drink that or jus' let it melt into strawberry soup?" Merle asked.
Beth turned her head and gave him a quizzical frown. She'd barely been aware that he was staring, but she'd assumed he was just staring at her like he always did: expectantly and with a tinge of disappointment, as though she were supposed to be doing something at all times.
He wasn't, though. He was staring at the DQ cup sitting between her knees. And there was a hint of longing in his gaze.
Merle Dixon? Gazing at anything longingly?
Then she realized that he hadn't lit up another cigarette in at least five minutes, which was odd for him. She quirked a brow. He rolled his eyes in response, frowning.
"Y'could at least appreciate bein' alive and not waste the damn thing," he muttered, gesturing towards the cup. He shook his head. "Never thought I'd miss food so goddamn much, but fuck… I'd make a whole new deal just to taste some'a that fuckin' ice cream one more time."
Beth smiled mischievously, stifling a giggle.
Merle sneered and narrowed his eyes at her. "Glad you find it so amusing. Jus' wait till you're dead, Miss High an' Mighty. You'll see what I mean."
Her smile disappeared at that and she shot him a glare before turning back to look out the window again.
A moment of silence passed, then he spoke up much softer than before, "Maybe y'could… describe it to me or sum'n. Christ, feels like I'm forgettin' what food ever tasted like—I been dead too fuckin' long."
She ignored him.
"Don't make me beg," he grumbled. "Should I start listin' off the things I'd do jus' ta taste a chili cheese dog one more time? 'Cause it's a pretty graphic list, and it starts with sucking somebody's—"
"Thanks again for the shake, Rick," Beth spoke up, drowning Merle out. She grabbed her cup and took a sip of the melting ice cream, shooting Merle a resentful side-eye.
"Don't mention it," Rick replied. "Figured if ice cream helps cheer my kids up after a meltdown, it might help us, too."
"Yeah," Beth agreed, barely listening to the sheriff. She glanced over and met Merle's expectant gaze, taking another sip. "It's really good. Like, cold but not too cold. Sweet but not too sweet. Um, really smooth… very strawberry-y, I guess? Uh…"
Merle's mouth was curling up into a grin and his eyes lit up. She could practically see him salivating.
Daryl turned his head to give her a weird look over his shoulder. "We know what a milkshake tastes like."
Beth's face went red and she lowered the cup. Merle cackled.
Rick glanced in the rearview mirror, smirking. "Wait, are you describing yer ice cream?" He chuckled. "Is Merle back there with ya?"
Beth sighed. "Maybe." She slumped back in her seat, embarrassed. "You guys just don't understand what it's like bein' stuck with him…"
Daryl had turned back to the window, but he muttered out, "Yeah, I do. Don't try to appease him. It'll never be enough."
Merle scoffed. "Don't listen ta him. He's just bitter." The dead Dixon smirked. "Yer the one that's stuck with me. I think it's in yer best interest to placate me every now an' again. Wouldn'tcha say, blondie?"
Beth wanted to say no. But she knew he wouldn't believe her. Torture came all too naturally to him, as she'd experienced. And she had no desire to listen to his graphic depictions of obscene acts, or his constant complaining.
Taking the high road was proving to be more and more of a challenge with every moment she spent in his presence. Sometimes, she wanted to torture him right back. Just to give him a taste of his own medicine.
But how do you torture a dead guy?
She sucked down the last of her milkshake and held the empty cup between her knees while the quiet sound of the radio filled the car. They were coming to a slow stop at the intersection that led out of town.
"So where to?" Rick asked, glancing over at Daryl and then back at Beth.
Daryl spoke up first, "Back ta my place. I'll drive 'er home."
Rick looked at Beth in the rearview mirror. "That good with you, Beth? I need to get back to the station 'fore Shane burns the place down."
She nodded, eyes flickering over to Daryl. But he wasn't looking at her, and his face was turned towards the window. "Yeah, that's fine."
She couldn't help but wonder why he'd offered such a thing. She still hadn't met his roommate, even though—according to Merle—said roommate already knew all about her. So was Beth finally going to meet this mysterious roommate? Or did Daryl expect her to ignore his home altogether and hop right onto his bike, no questions asked? Because she was pretty sure he knew better. No way could he bring her to the front door of his house and not expect her to want to go inside and have a look around. He'd already been inside her home, after all. He'd met her dad and brother. It was only fair that she would receive the same hospitality, especially considering all they'd experienced together over the past few days.
They were supposed to be friends. Right?
Rick turned at the intersection and began driving towards the trailer park that sat on the outskirts of town. Merle was lighting up another cigarette, filling the inside of the car with the stench of burning tobacco once again. Beth frowned, but he wasn't paying her any attention. He was too preoccupied with tapping his foot to the song on the radio and gazing out at the passing scenery.
"Hey, Rick," she said.
He met her eyes in the mirror. "Yeah?"
"So yer gonna set up a meeting with that judge, right?"
Merle snapped to attention, exhaling cigarette smoke through gritted teeth. "The hell you wanna do that fer? Already got all yer gonna get from the old man back there."
Even Daryl's attention was piqued. He turned his head, looking pointedly at the sheriff.
Rick frowned and went back to staring at the road. "Wasn't plannin' on it, but I s'pose if y'all wanna try that route…"
Daryl cleared his throat. "Why wouldn't we?" He shot Beth a glance of agreement before turning back to Rick. "She saw all that jus' from the guy who worked with The Governor thirty damn years ago. Hell, it'd be stupid not ta try an' see what she can find out from the broad Merle screwed around with 'fore he died."
Beth smiled, grateful to have Daryl on her side.
Merle wasn't so grateful, though. He scoffed and shook his head. "Dunno what y'all think yer gonna learn from that dumb bitch…"
Beth turned to him and snapped, "Well, you don't wanna remember the stuff that could help, so what other choice have you left us?"
He sneered and grumbled something about "nothin' worth remembering" as he went on smoking his cigarette. Rick sighed in the front seat, completely indifferent to the fact that she was talking to the ghost beside her.
"I get it," he admitted. "I just… gotta be honest, I'm a little wary 'bout this whole blackmail thing."
"Don't even know if it'll come ta that," Daryl said.
"Exactly," Beth agreed. "Like we said earlier, it's a last resort. She might be willing to tell us whatever we wanna know without havin' to threaten her career."
Rick hummed with uncertainty, eyes on the road as his hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.
Beth added, "We won't know till we try."
"Yeah," Rick said. "So you've said…"
"Well," Daryl mumbled. "She's right."
Merle grumbled something inaudible under his breath, clearly unhappy as he took another drag off his smoke and blew it out the open window. But Beth ignored him. He'd been disagreeing with nearly everything so far, yet he'd been proven wrong multiple times already. So she had no intention of listening to him.
He could be mad all he wanted, but that wasn't gonna stop her. Or Daryl.
Rick heaved another sigh, shaking his head and frowning as he finally gave in. "Alright. I'll call 'er later an' see when she's free this week. But I can't make no promises." He glanced back to Beth first and then over to Daryl, awaiting their responses.
Beth nodded with pursed lips and Daryl grunted out a sound of agreement.
"We're not askin' for promises," she assured. "Just do what you can an' leave the rest to us."
Rick chuckled. "Well I'm not gonna let y'all go walkin' into that alone. If she's got information, I want it, too. I'm way too invested to walk away at this point."
Merle sucked his teeth and made a sound of disapproval. "Ain't gonna get no kinda information you'd wanna know." He shot Beth a glare. "Trust me."
Beth rolled her eyes and turned away from him.
But she was thinking, We've already learned our lesson when it comes to trusting you.
Rick slowed as he pulled into the trailer park and navigated his way to the rundown little mobile home that belonged to Daryl. Beth barely recognized it from when she'd driven through the other day. It looked different in the bright mid-afternoon sun, and even though it had only been a couple of days ago, it felt like forever since she'd first stopped by in search of the last living Dixon. So much had happened since then.
Merle was quiet and disgruntled. He didn't disappear until Rick put the car into Park and bid goodbye to Beth and Daryl, promising to text them the next day with info on their scheduled meeting with the judge. Beth expected Merle to reappear outside the car, but he didn't.
Then the sheriff drove off, leaving them standing at the graveled front entrance of Daryl's trailer.
Up close, it looked nicer than she remembered. Or maybe that was because of the change in her perception. It wasn't anything special—closely resembling every other trailer in the park, save for the color. But she could tell that someone had put some care into it. There were a few flowers planted in the dirt next to the small set of wooden stairs, and a welcome mat before the front door that said Home Sweet Home. The paint was peeling and the windows were water-stained, nearly every bit of metal showing red with rust, but Beth could see curtains on the insides of the windows and tiny potted plants sitting in the sills. There was even a small wooden sign hung on the door that read Dixon & Peletier.
Someone had tried to make this place a little more welcoming, a little more cozy. And Beth was guessing it hadn't been Daryl.
An old blue hatchback was parked off to the side, and beside it was Daryl's motorcycle. The hatchback had several bumper stickers plastered over the peeling paint of its rear-end, like I'M WITH HER 2016 and COEXIST and If You Can Read This, Get Off My Ass. There was also a child's bicycle resting against the side of the trailer, with tattered pink tassels hanging from the handlebars.
As soon as Rick had driven off and out of sight, Daryl started striding towards his bike as though he expected Beth to follow. But she only trailed after him for a few steps before she stopped and spoke up.
"Is yer roommate home?" She asked curiously.
He came to a halt a few steps shy of his bike and turned around. He glanced towards the trailer and shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "Yeah. Why? I's gonna take ya home."
Beth shrugged back, a bashful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Well, I don't really have to be back fer another couple hours. Maybe we could just… chill here fer a minute."
Daryl narrowed his eyes almost suspiciously, his gaze flicking over to the trailer and back to Beth. "What fer? You gotta piss or sum'n?"
She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "No," she huffed out a breathy laugh. "I jus' thought I could meet your roommate. See where you live. Y'know, be polite and introduce myself." She shrugged again, bashfully this time, and tried to interpret his expression.
But he was unreadable, as usual. All she could see was that he was awkward and maybe a little conflicted. He glanced away from her eyes and grunted. Then he started stroking his chin hair with one hand, like a nervous habit.
"What'cha wanna do that fer?" He muttered.
Beth looked back at him incredulously. "Why not? You tryin' to keep me a secret or somethin'?"
She said it in a light-hearted tone, like a joke. But she was partially serious.
Was he ashamed of her? Ashamed of their connection and the supernatural journey they were on together? Was he afraid people would think he was just as crazy as she was? Or was he worried that people would think something else—that they were somehow inappropriately involved, like Shawn had assumed?
Regardless, he'd already told his roommate all about her. Or so Merle said. Could she believe the deceased Dixon? Maybe he'd just been trying to stir the pot and create strife because he didn't like how quickly she was becoming friends with his brother.
Or maybe he'd been telling the truth, and Daryl simply didn't want Beth to meet the woman who already knew about her dark secret thanks to a secondhand source. Maybe he was one of those guys who liked to have two separate lives: a professional life and a home life. And maybe, just maybe… Beth was part of that professional life.
She hoped not. She wasn't sure why—couldn't really say without admitting to herself that she was starting to like Daryl a lot more than she'd ever liked anyone before—but she preferred to think she could be filed under the home life category inside Daryl's head. Surely they'd shared enough by now. Surely they'd gotten close enough and built enough trust that he could see her in… that way. Like a friend. Or like something more one day. Maybe. If circumstances allowed it.
Wait… why did she care? And why was she letting Merle's hearsay get into her head and dictate her actions?
Daryl was staring back at her, though. Chewing on his thumbnail nervously. Hesitating. Then he responded, "Yeah. Kinda. Ain't like our situation's easy ta understand…"
"So?" Beth countered, trying not to be offended. "You already told her about me. Didn't you?"
Daryl furrowed his brow. "How'd you know?"
She crossed her arms over her chest and quirked a brow. "I didn't. Till now. I thought Merle might've been tryin' to stir the pot, but I guess he was tellin' the truth."
The tips of his ears turned pink as he let out a displeased grunt. "An' how the hell would he know? Been eavesdroppin' or sum'n?"
Beth gave him a look that said he shouldn't have to ask, echoing Merle's own words, "He's a ghost. He's always listening."
Daryl scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. "Christ—yer startin' to sound jus' like him."
She huffed, frowning at him, and argued, "No, I'm not. You knew he was at yer house watchin' Game of Thrones, what made you think that was the only time he dropped by? He doesn't have to eat or sleep anymore, and he can't drink or get high. All he cares about is you, anyhow."
"Oh, yeah," Daryl muttered bitterly. "Real caring guy. First he sells my soul, then he tries ta start shit between me an' the girl who's s'posed ta save it." He rolled his eyes and turned towards his bike.
Beth kept her feet planted where they were, though. "No one's startin' any shit, Daryl. I don't care if you told your roommate about me—all I care is that you don't try ta get mad about me tellin' Maggie what we go through. Since that would make you a hypocrite."
"This again?" He was audibly annoyed, refusing to turn and look back at her while he fished his keys from his pocket and prepared to hop on the motorcycle.
"Again? We only talked about it once—or rather, argued about it."
"Yeah, an' I thought we'd moved on. Already agreed ya wouldn't tell nobody else. Obviously my lips are fuckin' sealed, so what's the problem?"
"Well, we've told Rick, and unless you wanna try to keep up the boyfriend/girlfriend charade, I'm gonna have to come clean to my dad an' brother eventually. 'Cause they're not gonna keep accepting that we're 'just friends' who spend hours together everyday."
Daryl threw one leg over his bike and lowered himself down onto the seat. "The hell's any of that got'ta do with you meetin' Carol?"
Beth sighed in exasperation and shook her head. "'Cause it feels weird that she knows what I can do—knows all about what we're goin' through—and all I know of her is what you've told me and that one picture you showed me on your phone. I don't just wanna be the Gifted girl who's savin' your soul. Okay? You know my family. And I wanna know yours."
He opened his mouth and she already knew what he was going to say, so she quickly cut him off.
"Not your blood family, your chosen family," she clarified. Then her voice softened. "You said we were friends. So why're you tryin' to keep me at a distance?"
He finally lifted his eyes and met her gaze, responding very matter-of-factly, "Me an' you are friends, but Carol's my best friend. Only one I've ever had. An' I care about her, an' I ain't gonna risk gettin' her all wrapped up in this demonic shit show. She's had it hard enough, she don't need nothin' like this thrown in on top of it all."
Beth's frustration reached its peak and she no longer cared how obvious it was that she was taking offense to these statements. "Well it's good to know what you really think of me," she remarked.
"What the hell you on about, girl?"
But she was already walking away before he'd finished his question, marching straight for the front door of the trailer.
She wasn't going home until she had more than just a picture on a phone to put to Carol "the roommate" Peletier's name.
to be continued…
