Chapter 16
Michonne's thighs quivered, her stomach tightened, she held her injured hand over her mouth muffling her moans while the other hand clenched Rick's hair. The headache that woke her from her sleep was gone thanks to Rick's skillful tongue.
He kissed down her inner left thigh and then her right, holding onto her bottom to keep her wiggling at a minimal. Rick inhaled her scent of arousal and his mouth watered when his eyes gaze upon her pink opening, hot and wet. Michonne shook from her fingers to her toes, feeling his tongue enter her, massaging her inner walls. She wanted more, she wanted a much thicker, harder, and longer anatomy of his inside her. Rick received her hints but opted to ignore them. Just like he was ignoring his own desire that was hard against the bed.
He moved his tongue from her opening and licked her inner lip to her other. Rick sucked on each of her plump, meaty lips and release them with a popping sound. He sloppily lapped up her wetness, his smacking joining the chorus of Michonne's mewling and the bed creaking. Michonne removed her hand from her mouth and joined it with her other entangled in Rick's hair. She pushed his head into her pussy as she spread her legs wider—her pleasure outweighing the pressure she was placing on her injured hand. Rick slowly tongued her clit, sucking it gently for a few seconds and then hard.
"Baby," Michonne's whisper barely audible. Arching her back, her hands still clung tightly to Rick's hair. The closer she came to reaching her peak, the rougher she was with Rick, but Rick didn't mind, a mixture of his saliva and her wetness dribbled down his chin. He grinned licking her inner and outer lips, cleaning her up just a bit, and then latching onto her clit again.
"Oh God." Michonne cried out, but not loud enough to be heard outside their bedroom doors. Michonne felt the telltale signs of her peak in the pit of her stomach. She removed her hands from Rick's curls, sliding them up her body towards her breasts, towards her hard nipples, pinching and massaging them. "I'm cumming."
Rick didn't need an announcement, he knew. He held onto her thighs trying to keep her from gyrating off the bed while his mouth never left her clit. Rick peeked upwards and the exotic sight almost made him cum as well. Michonne's eyes tightly shut, her hands squeezing her breasts, her breathing shaky, and a big grin on her face.
Michonne arched her back again, her body tensed, and she silently cried out. She reached her peak wishing that feeling would last longer than a few seconds. Wishing that feeling was a magic cure to take away the headaches and bad dreams. In those few seconds, it did and then she slowly fell back down onto the bed; euphoria and drowsiness coursing through her brain.
Rick continued to tongue Michonne's quivering pussy, then he kissed her thighs, making his way up her body. Michonne grinned, her hands finding their way back to his hair, musing over how long it'll take him to grow his hair back to the length she remembered in their other world. Rick couldn't pass up her breasts without greeting them, his mouth wrapped around her right breast, sucking and licking its nipple.
"Rick," she whimpered. Wrapping her legs around his lower thighs. Rick felt the heat from her pussy warming his hard cock. He left her breasts and moved upwards until he came face to face with his lover. His cock pressed against her pubic bone, twitching and aching for relief, but Rick wanted to make sure Michonne was okay.
"You feel better?" He asked directly in her ear, lightly biting and kissing the nape of her neck.
Michonne nodded, "Physically? Yes," she said. Her body still tingled and feeling his tongue on her neck and Rick's length against her skin made her hungry for more. "Mentally?" She sighed, "Time will tell."
Rick stopped and gazed into her eyes. Michonne looked sublime, a smile still etched on her face. "I guess, I gotta try harder."
She laughed softly, "Baby for ten minutes, I forgot all about that nightmare. But, we can't lie in bed for the rest of our lives."
Rick raised an eyebrow and bit his lips. Sitting up on his knees, Michonne thighs pressed beside them, his length standing at attention. "No, but we have about thirty minutes until the sun comes up." He smirked, lifting her thighs and scooting her closer. Michonne giggled, her breathing becoming heavier as she waited for Rick's next move. She didn't have to wait long, Rick position his length near her entrance and as he slowly entered her… the image of Morgan dying left her once again.
Hours Later
How does someone run a bar in the middle of nowhere?
Rick pulled into a parking lot where there were several vehicles parked side by side far north of him and four Harley Davidsons to his left. Rick parked his own vehicle on the opposite side of it and stepped out. The bar looked, unlike any bar, he's been to; an abandoned factory about three stories high. The windows on the third floor of the grey and drab building were blacked out and a few on the second. The rest were different, more wide and modern. Right above what appeared to be the first floor were two neon signs, shining brightly against the unimpressive building.
"Lucille's Knock Em' Dead. Bar N' Grill."
Lucille? The name was familiar, but Rick couldn't put his finger on how.
His phone buzzed in his back pocket; pulling it out he read Michonne's name.
"Hey, I'm here," stepping back to the driver's door, Rick eyed his gun and holster on the passenger seat.
"You shouldn't go in alone," she said. Rick smiled knowing that refuting her wishes last night wouldn't have been the end of it. He opened the door reaching for the passenger's seat.
"I'm not. How's your hand?" He grabbed his holster and backed out of his car, closing the door again.
Michonne sighed, "My stitches have been removed and I'm definitely going to have a scar."
"Think of the scar as some sort of battle wound."
"From my fight with my reflection and a mirror?" She laughed.
"Well other people don't have to know. You can say you warded off a bad guy or saved a baby from a burning bush."
"Or saving you from walking into an ambush."
"I'll be fine."
"Ok."
"Don't say ok and the next thing I know you're here." He buckled his holster around his waist and then made sure his Sheriff's badge was promptly in view on his shirt.
Michonne chuckled, "I would be there, but…" she paused.
Rick stared ahead of him, scanning for any movement inside. Either his presence was being purposely ignored or they were deep inside the building. "Michonne?" Rick listened intently for a response, he could faintly hear movement in the background and voices too faint to make out. "Michonne?"
The rustling increased in volume and Rick realized the cell was being picked up.
"Sorry about that," Michonne's voice wavered.
"What's going on?"
"Spencer's standing outside my condo."
"Why?"
"I'm about to find out. Probably just Merle stuff," she sighed again, "Probably more bad news, I shouldn't have quit."
"You had to what was best for you and Merle. And quitting was the best option. Don't doubt yourself."
"You're right."
Rick smiled, "Am I two and O in the 'Rick is right' game?" He could visualize Michonne shaking her head at his joke.
"Make it three and O by coming back to me in one piece."
"Love you."
"Love you more."
Rick hung up with Michonne, their short talk renewing his resolve.
Walking onto the front porch of the bar, the wood creaked loudly under his feet. Rick tried the entrance door, a heavy steel double door, his efforts stopped when the door only rattled. The bar's hours of operation were posted as such: M-Sa: 2-3 am. Sunday: Fuck off.
"Negan's a funny guy," Rick muttered, frowning he knocked on the door. He knocked again, louder.
The sun at its peak bore down on his back. Rick wiped sweat from the back of his curls and rested his hands on his hips. Annoyance crept along his nerves, he didn't come all the way to Atlanta to leave empty-handed.
Rick was about to knock for the third time when he saw the knob twisting. It gave him enough time to move out of the way because the next moment the door swung wildly open as if it was made from light material and not steel.
A man stepped out, glaring at Rick.
"We ain't open yet, can you read asshole?" said the man who was a foot shorter than Rick. What he lacked in height, he attempted to make up for by being a muscle head He wore a tight black shirt, stretched to its limits. His bulging biceps were like two large rocks, they didn't look natural on his small stature. The man stood guarding the door, his bloodshot blue eyes looking at Rick.
"And can you see?" Rick pointed to his badge while his other hand tapped his holster. The man grimaced and rolled his comically large neck.
"What's your business here?"
"I need to speak to your boss. Negan." The man's face dropped, he shook his head.
"Negan ain't here, dude."
"It's Officer—Detective Grimes, dude. I know you're not in charge, so let me talk to whoever Negan is letting run his place while he's away."
Before the man could say another word, someone pushed open the door knocking into the Guido with enough force, he lost his footing.
A man about Rick's height stepped out. With his graying hair slicked back and a neatly trimmed goatee, the man looked distinguished, like you would see him running some hip tech company. But, Rick eyed the two scars on both cheeks. Long lines etched from the corners of his mouth to almost his ears.
The man closed the door and stood against it, resting one hand on the other in front of him.
For a bar, you're sure welcoming is what Rick wanted to say instead he reached into his back pocket.
"Keep your hands in front of you," the man spoke with a clear Irish accent and Rick eyed the man reaching behind his own back.
"I'm a cop, so I suggest you keep your hands in front of you," Rick pulled out a notebook while the man promptly moved his hand forward giving Rick a hard-piercing glare. "You got a permit for the gun you're carrying?" Rick cautiously moved towards the man and without being told, the man turned around with his hands up. Rick saw the revolver handle poking out of the waistband.
"I know my rights. Permit's in my car."
Rick took the gun and spun the man around. "I'll give you the gun back when I see your permit."
The man's scowl deepened without addressing Rick he pounded on the door, three short heavy knocks.
"We got company," he turned to the Guido, "Go inside and take him with you," he said and stepped around Rick and walked to one of the vehicles.
Rick looked at the Guido, "You have a weapon as well?"
"No."
"What's your name?"
The Guido looked at Rick with such contempt which Rick dismissed. Kevin was low on the totem pole; Negan's doorman.
"Kevin," he said.
"Lead the way, Kevin." Rick stepped behind him as a grumbling Kevin opened the bar door, not bothering to hold it open. Rick caught the heavy door before it shut on his foot.
The first thing Rick noticed was the two partially nude women on a small stage. One gyrated on the floor in a neon green bikini that popped against her dark skin. Seductively smiling at the men who watched her. The other woman spun aimlessly around the pole, only wearing blue panties and not remotely interested in entertaining the sparse bar.
The two men that sat in front of the stage were smoking and drinking. One of the guys who looked like he came up to Rick's chest leaned over the flimsy barrier between himself and the exotic dancers and threw Monopoly money. His callous action causing he and his friend to burst into hysterical laughter.
Despite this, the woman in neon kept a smile on her face, turned around on all fours and shook her ass, provocatively. The same guy again leaned forward and tossed napkins at the girl.
"You gonna have to do better than that tonight if you want real money," he said, leering at the girl who stopped dancing. He leaned closer to her, to the point he was practically on the stage and well within arms reach of the woman. "Take these off. I wanna see your pussy." He tried to pull her bikini bottom string, but she recoiled in disgust, pushing his hands away.
The other dancer stormed toward them. "Don't fucking touch her," she yelled. Her green eyes bulged and her fists clenched tightly. "Why are you even here Teddy. Don't you have a wife and kids to tend to."
"Mind your business bitch!"
Rick cleared his throat looking at Kevin, wondering when or if the idiot will step in. Rick's answer came when Kevin turned away from the stage and burst into laughter. His eyes darted to a group of men sitting in a booth. None of them moved an inch to help.
Rick looked back at Kevin, his lip curled in disgust, "You gonna put those arms to use or you're too weak to do your job?" Rick's quip shut Kevin right up, Guido's mouth hung open in a stupor. Like a dumb cartoon character, he shook his head clearing his already empty brain, coming to the realization that Rick insulted him. Kevin's eyes narrowed and moved toward Rick instead of the stage.
"Cut that shit out now!" Said an angry voice behind Rick. Rick quickly turned to the source, the scarred man from outside. He gazed in the direction of the stage. "Take your asses to the back and tell Lau it's her turn," he continued, quiet but firm.
The topless woman looked defiant, but she stepped away from the troublemaker and guided the other woman to the back. Rick's eyes met with Scarface who held a sheet of laminated paper to Rick's face.
"My permit."
Rick snatched it from his hand and quickly read it. "Thank you for this," he said wiggling the paper in his hand. "But, I change my mind. Going to hold onto this," he patted Scarface's gun on his waistband. "Until I leave."
Scarface's nostrils flared, his eyes cold and hard. Rick angled his body toward him so that only Scarface could hear what Rick said next."
"We got a problem here?" Rick cocked his head to the side and gave the man an equally hard stare.
Both of them looked at the other, neither flinching or daring to be the first to look away. Although, Rick knew he was being counterproductive with these people.
Maybe I should have brought Michonne. She's far more charming.
Suddenly, dance music blared from several speakers surrounding the bar and stage. Rick lost the staring contest because his eyes landed on the woman on the stage. From where he stood, she looked Thai or Filipino and like the girls before her, she began putting on a show for the sprinkling of men in here.
"You didn't come here to watch our strippers, ask your questions." Blunt and direct, Scarface held his hands in front of him.
"Are you Negan?"
"We're all Negan."
Rick chuckled sarcastically, "You're a serious man. I can tell you're above the bullshit, so don't start now."
The man raised an eyebrow, "You think you know me?"
"I would like your name. Don't make me be that cop that starts listing off the number of things I can arrest you for." Rick smiled, "I'm already up to four and I've been here five minutes."
The man cleared his throat, "Frank."
"Thank you. My first question to you is why do employees carry a weapon?"
"My permit says I can carry in the state of Georgia. And assholes think because we're way out in the woods, it's an easy spot to rob."
Rick nodded his head, "When was the last time you were in King County?" Frank's stone expression faltered.
"Is that a fair?" Frank shrugged his shoulders, "Never heard of it."
"Does your boss always give women he doesn't know large sums of money?" Rick didn't skip a beat moving onto the next question.
"I don't keep up with what Negan does in his personal life."
"And a week ago on Friday, did Negan close up here?"
"I don't recall."
Look, man," Kevin, who Rick had forgotten existed when Frank came in, spoke up. "Negan ain't have shit to do with no murder. He was with me all night. Banging one of the girls," he laughed, but he choked on his laughter when Frank shot him a harsh glare.
"Murder? Who said anything about a murder," Rick feigned faux surprise and kept himself from smiling at Kevin's loose lips. "How do you know about the homicide in my town?"
Kevin's held his mouth open and his eyes darted between Rick and Frank. "I read about it in the paper."
You can read?
"Frank, what's going on down there?" All heads in the bar swiveled upward toward the booming voice above them. The woman on stage stopped and quickly walked backstage. The lights obscured Rick's view of mystery man number three. He squinted, only making out the man's silhouette, but he could feel the energy shift in the room. "Are you really going to keep these fucking lights in my face?"
Kevin the Guido moved first, rushing toward a booth by the stage. A few moments later, the lights on the stage turned off. Rick could now see the balcony above the back of the stage where mystery man number three leaned over. And that man gazed directly at Rick.
Negan.
Rick didn't need a formal introduction when his body clued him in; his pulse elevated and fists clenched tightly. Something turned on within that put him on immediate defense, but his memory had yet to catch on as to why.
"Detective Grimes was just leaving," Frank spoke up. He held a hand up to Rick, gesturing to the door, but Rick ignored him. Rick's eyes locked onto the man he believed to be Negan and took a step forward.
"I need to speak with you Negan," Rick said loud and clear.
Negan didn't respond verbally, instead, like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, his mouth slowly extended into a comical grin. "About what?"
"A murder and Merle Dixon," Rick could feel all the eyes in the bar shift to him.
"Merle? What kind of name is Merle?" Negan asked, still not bothering to move from his spot on the balcony.
"What kind of name is Negan?" Rick retorted. Negan laughed, big hearty laughter as if Rick told him one of the funniest jokes in the world. With the exception of Frank, who stayed stone silent, other men in the room started an unsure chorus of disingenuous laughter and small chuckles. Rick rolled his eyes and glanced at Frank who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
Negan stopped abruptly but kept grinning. "Frank! Bring the officer upstairs. I've got nothing to hide," he said. His face and body shrouded in shadow again leaving only his silhouette. He held out his arms wide and his stance created a spark in Rick's mind.
Your best fucking chance is right now. Stand up and put a knife in my throat, drive an ax into my face. I bet they fucking worship you, but I'm not going to turn you into a martyr.
Grimacing, Rick shook his head slightly and blinked his eyes. Negan left the balcony and Frank instructed Kevin to turn the music back on. Not wanting to dwell on where his mind went to, Rick walked to the stairs, climbing them two at a time to the second floor. Frank came up behind him and bumped past Rick, taking the lead as they walked through the dimly lit hallway. The music and lights were turned on. One of the stage lights shone on the area Negan previously stood, helping Rick see a double brown door.
Frank knocked on the door twice. Rick fidgeted with his pen and notebook, they were a reminder that he was here on official business, but as he rubbed the middle of his forehead he felt the urge to change his agenda. Michonne voiced last night that Negan maybe someone from their past, someone who could be experiencing the same phenomenon as them, but the problem is that this man was dangerous, possibly then, definitely now.
Frank opened the door and stood in front of it, still giving Rick a hard stare. Rick came into the plain room with bright clinical lights and no windows. A full-size bed in the corner of the far wall was unmade, the bedding looked outdated and unappealing, and shaggy carpeting, covering half of the concrete floor. The only item in the room that remotely looked new and from the 21st century was the iMac sitting on a brown oak desk and sitting behind it; Negan. And on the wall behind Negan, displayed like a trophy; a baseball bat.
Rick observed the man who since now seemed fictional. He was a stranger, but the familiarity Rick felt would not go away. Like Kevin the Guido, he had a thick upper body unlike Kevin the Guido, Negan worked out more than just his arms. His legs were crossed and resting on the desk, he wore jeans and a white muscle shirt. Jet black hair slicked back, he looked only slightly older than Rick.
"Sit," Negan said, pointing to the chair in front of the desk.
Rick angled the chair so that both Negan and Frank were in full view. He placed Frank's weapon slowly on the floor in between his legs and sat down. He eyed Frank eyeing his gun and then glanced at Negan staring at him with perplexed amusement.
"I've already spoken to you all months—hell I think it's been more than a year ago about Merle."
"Yeah, you spoke to Detective Blake, but my department in King County are doing our own investigation."
"King County? Where the fuck is that?"
Rick's jaw clenched, "A man was murdered there. Ed Peletier."
Negan frown, "What happened?"
Rick leaned back in his seat, trying to relax even though he felt the opposite, "Never seen anything like it before, his head was smashed like a damn pumpkin. The saddest part is his wife and child discovering him in that state," Rick said staring hard at Negan.
Negan shook his head and removed his feet from the table, leaning forward, "poor bastard," he whispered, clasping his hands on top of the desk. "I don't know this Ed, so if you came here—."
"Carol Peletier," Rick cut him off. "You know her."
Negan smirked and gaze over at Frank and then back at Rick, "That name doesn't ring a bell?"
"Really?" Rick tilted his head and paused, he wondered how long Negan was going to play this game. "She knows you. Matter-of-fact before leaving for here, she insisted that you were a swell guy."
"I am a fucking swell guy and I always leave a good impression on women."
"Especially women you give money to, personally," now it was Rick leaning forward. "I know you've been to King County. I know you know Carol and her daughter and you have your reasons for helping them. I also know you knew of Ed Peletier. I'm sure Carol told you her story, you saw the bruises…" Negan crossed his arms in amusement. "And I get why Ed had to die. A man like that doesn't deserve to live, abusing your family. Lord only knows the bruises he caused that we don't see. He was a piece of shit—."
"Are you sure you didn't kill him," Negan laughed, Frank chuckled as well. "Cause it sure the fuck sounds like you had a grudge."
Rick scoffed and scratched his head, "My feelings for him were no secret, but if we were on trial for our thoughts, we'd all be executed."
"Then why are you here?"
"Where were you Friday night?"
"Here," Negan pointed to the bed, "my dick playing ping pong with one of my girl's titties," he chuckled.
Rick looked at Negan, incredulously, the man was painted as a saint in Michonne's court records and by Carol. Clearly, Negan didn't care to keep up the façade in front of Rick, and Rick wasn't sure how to make of it.
"Which girl?"
"Lau. You saw her, sexy Thai with an amazing pair of tits, bought and paid for by me of course." Negan suddenly stood up, readjusting his pants onto his hips. "Listen, I'm not going to take offense that you believe I'm your number one suspect. And I'll be upfront with you, I knew the lady and she tugged on my heart," he said holding his chest. "A mother and child in a situation like that," Negan sighed. "Sad, but I have an alibi," he shrugged.
"You know how many guys have said they had an alibi and it fell apart in court. You think yours will because less than two minutes ago, you didn't know Carol."
"Just because a man tends to lie it doesn't mean he always does."
Rick's lip curled, the urge to wipe Negan's grin off his face grew stronger. The man was irritating and Rick hated that he had the upper hand.
Michonne was right about needing another person there and Rick's overconfidence had blinded him to that fact.
Elsewhere
"Spencer, why are you here?" Michonne carried Andre in her arms after parking her car. She could have gone up to her condo avoiding Spencer, but there had to be a good reason for him to be standing outside her home like a stray dog.
Spencer spun around—a little too fast—causing a folder to fly out of his arms and onto the street. He stumbled a bit realizing his mistake and rushed toward the folder. Like a horse racing down a track, Spencer wore blinders, albeit invisible, impairing his peripheral sight thus missing the traffic light turning from red to green.
Michonne saw the disaster Spencer was crab walking head first into. "SPENCER!" She yelled, "CARS!" Much to Michonne's frustration, Spencer was deaf as well. Too focused on gathering the papers that scattered from the folder.
"Mommy, cars coming." Andre pointed to the incoming traffic, he was aware of the danger Spencer put himself in. And with Spencer crouched behind a parked car, drivers wouldn't be able to see him until it was too late.
"I know baby," balancing Andre in her arms, Michonne lifted one leg, pulled off her heeled shoe, aimed at her target, and threw it.
As Spencer reached for the folder, holding tightly to the other folders and papers tucked underneath his armpit. Wind on what was up until that very moment, a windless day blew the folder another inch or two out of Spencer's reach.
Michonne had a brief thought of the movie Final Destination where Death always found a way to take its victims, no matter how well they tried to protect themselves. Luckily, Spencer and Michonne weren't in a movie, Michonne's shoe hit its target—the back of Spencer's head. He jerked backward right as a vehicle drove over the folder.
"A piece of paper is not worth your life," she yelled. Spencer stood up, breathing heavily and holding the back of his head.
"I think I'm bleeding." He removed his hand and inspected it for blood.
"Get out of the street," she repeated, flatly.
"Get mommy's shoe!" Andre added causing Michonne to laugh.
Spencer came back to them with her shoe in hand and he managed to retrieve the folder. He placed his paperwork on the ground and kneeled onto the pile. "Could you lift up your foot?"
She pressed her lips, grimacing at his gesture, but then balanced herself on his head, until he slipped her shoe back onto her foot.
"Seriously, don't do that again."
Spencer stammered, "My way of saying thank you, you know."
"I mean, putting yourself in danger for nothing," Michonne said, dismissively. Spencer fixed and tucked the folders back under his armpit, flush crept along his cheeks. "So, why are you here?"
"Umm...," he pushed his hair from out of his sweaty face, his gaze towards the ground. "Merle—he fired everyone. The boss isn't happy, says we've wasted too many man hours—actually his words were 'you wasted man hours' which is why I'm here to tell you that he wants—."
"No," Michonne turned on her heels, moving her dreads from Andre's grabby hands.
"Wait, Ms. Tealle, ifyoutakethecaseagainandwin, "Spencer's words ran together in a jumble. He picked up his pace to match a still moving Michonne's stride. "You'll be considered for partner."
Michonne made it to the lobby of her condo before whipping around to face Spencer. "Consider?" She asked with disbelief and disgust.
"That's what he said…"
"You should add condescension to your tone and you would have nailed your impersonation."
Michonne headed for the elevators shaking her head at her soon to be former boss' gift.
"Michonne please wait; Merle needs our help."
She pressed the button and readjusted Andre on her hip. Merle's predicament was becoming worse by the day and Michonne replayed how she could have done things differently.
"I know, but I…" her voice trailed off. I can't have another episode. Morgan's headless body flashed in her head, she closed her eyes willing the gruesome visual away.
"We can win this. I believe you can win this."
"Mommy," Andre had two of her dreads in his hand, tugging and twisting them in around each other. Michonne took a deep breath and exhaled, she looked at Andre and then the elevator door that opened.
"I need time to think, to decide," she said and stepped into the elevator. Just yesterday, she was done. Now, she was weighing the pros and cons. Michonne needed to put her and Andre first, but a man's life was at stake. And this case, Rick's investigation, Morgan, Negan, them even being in this world. It was all connected. Yet. Stepping back and letting her back rest on the cool wall, she tightens her grip on Andre. Those dreams, those visions, the fear of ending up back in a mental ward for the long term was real.
Spencer didn't follow her into the elevator, instead, he leaned against it, stopping the elevator from closing. "I understand. Just call the big man with your decision. And Ms. Tealle…" The elevator jerked as Spencer stopped it again, his brows furrowed. "I gave this information to Tracinski, but he shrugged it off. There was another witness." He paused, staring into Michonne's eyes with fierce intensity. "She was interviewed by Detective Brian Blake for five minutes." He shuffled through his folders and pulled out the one that he foolishly chased after earlier. Michonne took it.
"This was the only paperwork we had on her, so yeah I thought it was worth saving," Spencer smiled and moved back, leaving Andre and a speechless Michonne.
Andre's excited squeals echoed through the condo. He ran towards the pile of new toys. Action figures, a Thomas train set, and cars, all still in their packaging. Plus, a giant brown teddy bear, matching the other one in Andre's room. Christmas came early. Michonne mused, taking her shoes off and dropping her car keys on the counter. Michonne checked her phone only to see no messages from Rick. She wanted to call but resigned that thought. He's doing his job, Rick's okay. She sighed and shuffled to Andre who struggled to pull apart the box containing his train set.
"Let mommy do that for you." Michonne sat on the floor, Indian-style and ripped open the seals of the box and searched for the item Andre truly wanted.
Andre used her legs for support while he jumped and wiggled in anticipation. "Tawmas!" He screamed gleefully as Michonne pulled out the train.
"Here you go Peanut." Andre took his toy and found a comfy spot on top of the bear's head. Michonne smiled but felt apprehensive. Mike didn't buy these toys just for the heck of it. Andre was far too young to take sides and Michonne didn't think her boy was aware of his parents' woes. Michonne scratched her cheek, sighing that she needed to speak with Mike sooner rather than later.
She picked up the folder, pulling out the papers and shuffled through them. Seven pages total, but five pages were stapled together. Michonne placed those papers and the folder beside her. The two papers in her hand were standard police witness statements, one sheet was practically a blank page with the exception of Detective Brian's signature and the other sheet had two very short paragraphs.
Michonne narrowed her eyes and read the little bit of information that stated a Maggie Greene saw someone matching the suspect's description. She heard loud bangs and a few minutes later, the suspect left the motel. Greene didn't have any further details.
Maggie Greene? This woman was never mentioned in any of the witness files. Nor was she on the prosecution witness list or defendants. Who is she?
Michonne's gut told her that something with the investigation or lack of one wasn't just another case of gross incompetence, but something far more sinister.
I can get this case toss out. Show the negligence of the department. Find past cases where the State have had convictions overturned. Excitement brewed within Michonne, she grabbed the second stack of papers and her mouth dropped. Another witness statement was done by Officer Carl Hicks with Maggie. Three pages long, plus a character sketch.
According to the report, Maggie saw the female victim enter the motel room with a tall man, bulky, wearing a leather jacket and jeans. About thirty minutes later she heard screaming and called 911.
Michonne jerked to her feet, hopping over Andre's toys she rushed toward the boxes containing all of Merle's files. She and Christy had been through the boxes too many times last week, so Michonne knew just where to look.
"Mommy!"
"Just a sec bud." Michonne unstacked boxes and opened the second to last and grabbed the USB lying inside.
She pulled out two files; one titled Bruce Donaldson and the other, a 911 transcript.
"Mommy."
Michonne turned her head and saw Andre holding his stomach. "What's wrong?"
An annoyed expression crossed his plump face, "Juice please!"
Michonne smiled, sitting the files on the couch, she went to the kitchen. Her little man following behind her.
"Peanut and jelly sandwich too?"
"Yes," Andre happily agreed.
Ten minutes later, Andre sat on the couch watching his cartoon and enjoying his lunch. Michonne sat in her office, scrolling through her notes on her laptop. With the USB plugged into her computer she clicked on the audio file and pressed play. It was the 911 call from Bruce, who was supposedly the only witness physically tying Merle to the crime scene. Michonne listened, Bruce did sound panicky, scared. The operator asked if the suspect was there and Bruce responded that he wasn't sure.
Michonne paused the audio and read through Maggie's statement.
"Maggie called 911, three minutes before Bruce did." Michonne's eyes narrowed, scrolling for more audio files, but found none. Neither were there another 911 transcript.
"What the hell!" It didn't just disappear, there should be a recording. Michonne continued reading Maggie's statement.
"She saw the suspect?"
Ms. Greene saw the suspect walk down the stairs into the alleyway opposite of her. There was enough light to see he had dark hair, was carrying a baseball bat on his shoulder and whistling. She didn't think he saw her and had no desire to approach him. Ms. Green states she then called 911.
"Fuck!" Michonne exclaimed loudly, remembering Andre was in the next room, she repeated the explicative quietly. She stood up and paced in a circle, tension increased in her body. The description didn't match Merle. Worse, Detective Brian knew this, but no follow up, no pursuit, nothing except hiding Greene's statement, maybe even destroying the recorded 911 call.
"Fuck!" She stopped and clutched the back of her chair, her knuckles turning white. What next? Take the case again?
Michonne swiftly left her office, she looked towards the couch where Andre was now lying on his side still watching TV. Her phone by his foot. She stepped over Andre's toys and reached for her phone.
Still no call or text from Rick, her stomach turned just a bit, but she wasn't going to panic. She called, four rings and she got his voicemail. She hung up. Biting her lip, she looked at Andre in an effort to reign in her increasingly worrisome thoughts. She took a breath in and then out and dialed Rick once again.
Rick's phone buzzed again and this time he answered after the second ring.
"Detective Grimes here."
"It's Michonne."
"I know." He held up a finger to Negan, "sorry to interrupt your…" Rick shook his hand as if was searching for the word he was looking for, "…monologue. I'll be back in a minute." Rick didn't wait for Negan's reply, he picked up Franks's gun and brushed past him.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Michonne replied. "What's he like?"
"Phony. Should have convinced Shane to stay until we finished this. I'll tell you later. Why did you call?"
"Because Detective Blake is phony as well."
Rick frowned, he looked behind to see if Frank or Negan were leering and then stepped a few feet away from the door.
"There was another witness that actually saw the murderer on the scene, but his follow-up with her was summarized in two sentences," Michonne continued. "He dismissed her testimony. Worse a 911 call was made by her yet there is no recording of it."
"You think he's covering for—."
"I know he is!"
"Ok, I'll ask—."
"No," Michonne interrupted again. "I need you to leave, Brian gave you that address what if—."
"Michonne," Rick whispered, "I'll be fine. Let's meet at Christie's, one hour."
"But—."
"I love you."
"I love you more," she said quietly.
"One hour," Rick repeated and hung up.
Are Brian and Negan working together? Does Negan have any influence to get an officer of the law to do his dirty work? What's in it for Brian?
More questions swirled around his brain. Questions, Negan wasn't going to answer nor Brian. At the end of the day, Rick needed evidence. But there were some lingering questions he wanted to ask Negan.
"Where were we?" Rick walked back into the room to see Negan and Frank having an intense conversation. "Am I interrupting something?" Rick asked raising an eyebrow.
"I've been more than accommodating toward you, Rick is it? But, I'm starting to feel as if I'm going to need a lawyer present."
Rick held up his hands, "Just a couple of more questions. The reason why I'm here is that Ed's murder is awfully similar to a double homicide that happened a year ago," Rick flipped open his notebook, "Dwight and Sherry Gibson."
Frank's eyes widen, he looked pensive, he gazed briefly at Negan and then landed on the ground.
"Sherry!" Negan grinned widely. "What a sweetheart, may she rest in peace. Beautiful girl, before she became a meth head." Negan took a step toward Rick, "This is when you ask me about Merle, next? That guy. I did not appreciate him coming to my place of business and bothering Sherry" Negan continued. "Not cool. Not fucking cool."
"Then why did you pay him?"
"I'm a nice man. I help people. You see Frank here," Negan pointed to Frank, "was in prison for eighteen years, no job, living in a bum ass apartment with his junkie cousin. Frank would have gone right back to the clink if it wasn't for me. I gave him a job, a home, and I tried to clean up that cousin, but—."
"Dwight?" Rick looked at Frank, "Dwight was your cousin?"
Frank didn't respond, but Negan did, "Dwight was hardheaded. He couldn't follow very simple rules, tried to mess with the order of things around here, and then fucked with Sherry's recovery. He brought Merle to my place of business and then he got himself killed."
"He broke your rules and you didn't feel the need to make him pay especially for feeding Sherry's addiction?"
"I made him pay by firing him."
Rick smirked, "And you being connected to both the Gibson's and Peletiers is just a mere coincidence?" Rick waved his comment off before Negan could retort and pointed to the baseball bat hanging on the wall. "Do you use that bat often?"
"This bat!" Negan covered his mouth in faux surprise. "Lucille? I used this bat when I won the National Championships for my team way-way back during high school." Negan grin grew wider which Rick didn't think it could possibly get any wider. "Nah, I only use this baby for special occasions."
Rick peered at the bat, observing for signs that the bat was used for alternative reasons besides hitting balls, but it had no obvious knicks and scratches. The bat actually looked brand new.
"Boss, the bar's opening," Frank said, pointing to his wristwatch.
Indeed, Rick could hear the noise downstairs increased. Negan clapped his hands and chuckled, "I got a business to run Rick, leave me your card and I'll call you if I have anything new to share."
The condescension dripped from Negan's words like a soaked towel. Frank started to lead Rick out the office door, but Rick stood his ground.
"You believe deep down Merle Dixon's innocent?"
"Perhaps he's innocent."
Rick's eyes narrowed.
"Perhaps I'm a liar. Perhaps you are barking up the wrong fucking tree," he laughed.
"Hmm… I'll know you soon enough," Rick said and followed Frank out the door.
The bar was officially opened. More men coming in from their workplaces; construction sites, offices, etc. Two bartenders serving drinks and it seemed like more of Negan's security came in because a good dozen men scattered around the room eyes were glued to Rick. And Kevin the Guido stood at the front entrance.
"My gun," Frank said, holding out his hand.
Rick nodded and returned Frank's gun to its owner. "You need a holster to carry this around, so buy one. And…" Rick leaned closer to Frank. "If you cared anything about your cousin, you would want to see him get real justice."
Frank eyes met with Rick, hard and unflinching, "Dwight will. When Merle is convicted and dies."
Rick's jaw clenched, it was going to take more to break a man like Frank. He walked past Frank and Kevin toward his car. And as he drove away from Lucille's Knock Em' Dead Bar and Grill, one thought popped into his head.
How did Negan know my name is Rick?
Rick entered through the front doors of Christie's condo building. The sun started it's slow gravitational decent towards the far west which marked the end of another day. A long day where Rick didn't feel like he accomplished anything at all, leaving Negan's bar with more questions and zero bullshit answers.
His cell buzzed in his pocket, taking it out, the caller id on his cell read 'home', Rick let it ring twice deciding whether or not he was ready to talk to Lori. On the third ring he answered and to his relief, the person on the other line was his son.
"Dad?"
"Carl, how are you?" Rick stood by the elevator, he reached for the up button, but someone beat him to it.
"Back home. I'm doing ok." Lucy was in the background and it sounded like they both were outside.
Rick glanced back at the person who hit the elevator button, a tall black man who was facing the other way. Rick's eyes swept back to the elevator door.
"You don't sound ok."
Carl sighed, "because mom made me come home early."
"Why did she do that?"
"She doesn't think I heard it, but mom was arguing with grandma and grandpa."
Rick looked up and saw the elevator was on the second floor down then after a few seconds instead of continuing down it went up.
"I'm sure it was just a heated disagreement," Rick said. Lori was close to her parents and he never saw them fight or argue.
"It was about you, dad." Rick swallowed, did Lori tell them? And does that mean Carl knows now too? "Dad how long are you going to be gone because mom's really sad." Lucy barked in the background, she had to be right by the phone because her bark ranged in Rick's ear. "Lucy! Go fetch the ball," Carl ordered.
"Carl, what do you mean they were arguing about me?" The elevator was heading back down and right when Rick thought it was arriving, it stopped on the floor above him.
"Grandpa told mom that you are a word I can't repeat."
"Damn," someone muttered by him. Rick turned and saw the same guy, tapping his foot impatiently.
"Carl, no need to repeat the word. I already know." Lori's dad favorite word to describe Rick had always been 'dick'. The elevator dinged, finally arriving at the lobby floor, and opened. Rick stepped inside and pressed Christie's floor number and then stood with his back against the back wall.
The man that had been behind Rick entered as well, reached for the buttons, but stopped and glanced at Rick. Rick gave the man a friendly nod which he returned and then put his hands in his pockets turning his back to Rick.
Rick frowned slightly, a pink of familiarity crawled over him for the second time today. The man before him looked to be in his late 20s-early 30s, his hair cut low, and he wore a suit that was well-tailored and looked expensive. The man was handsome like one of those models featured in GQ and Esquire. Suddenly, Rick felt like a backward hick in his blue jeans and a plaid shirt.
"Dad, are you coming home?"
"Yeah, yeah. There are just some thangs I need to finish up here. I'll be home in another day or two." He wondered if he could convince Michonne to come with him. The last thing he wanted to do was split from her. Rick's eyes met with the stranger whose face furrowed in confusion as if he was trying to figure out if he knew Rick. Rick searched his memory box for a face and name that matched the stranger but came up empty.
Lucy's barks broke Rick's fascination with the stranger. Carl had been talking and Rick hadn't been listening. The elevator was seconds away from reaching Rick and the stranger's destination.
"Carl, I'll be home soon. Take care of your mom. Stay out of trouble."
"Dad, mom has me confined to the house, there's nothing to do."
The elevator dinged.
"I'll call your mom today and talk to her bout letting you out of solitary confinement."
"What's solitary confinement?"
"Punishment."
The stranger stepped out of the elevator and went left which gave Rick pause because he needed to go left as well.
"Please talk to her. Patrick never came over to grandpa's and I want to hang out."
"I'll talk to her and you later, okay?"
"Okay."
"Love you."
"Love you too."
Rick stood for a moment, placing his cell in his pocket and waiting until he was a couple feet behind the stranger. He walked cautiously, but casually, his instincts told him something was wrong. He could see the stranger pull out a cell from his own pocket. Christie's condo was second to last down the hallway and Rick was aware that they were running out of rooms.
"I'm on your floor. I'll be here in literally a couple seconds."
His voice. There was no mistaking it, Rick stopped like a deer in the headlights contemplating his next move. Be smart, whatever you do it'll affect Michonne. Introducing himself sounded like an open invitation for a fight especially after the two men short war of words over the phone mere days ago. No, Rick decided he'd go back down to the lobby, call Michonne, and maybe go one step further and explore Atlanta. Shane had come down with the intentions of not only 'helping' Rick, but to find a place. Rick nodded to himself that he should go do that as well.
Rick turned around, his new destination; the elevator.
"Hey!"
Mike's hey was less of a greeting and more so a command to stop. Rick shook his head, rolling his eyes, knowing that once he faced Mike things weren't going to end well.
"Do I know you?" Mike asked. His footsteps made soft thumps on the hallway's carpeting.
"Naw you don't know me." Rick kept his back to Mike. Hoping that was enough, but knowing it wasn't.
"You sound familiar," there was uncertainty in Mike's voice. As if he too was contemplating whether to push the issue or continue to Christie's door. "Do you know Christie?"
Rick groaned, he turned to face Mike who was feet away from him. Mike held his phone in his hand, his other hand by his side.
"Sort of, but this is the first time I've seen you."
"You know Michonne too?"
His jaw clenching, Rick watched Mike's free hand do the same, but there was still a calm expression on his face.
"No. If you don't mind I need to grab my car before I get another ticket," Rick laughed, it rang false and Mike didn't crack a smile. He frowned and shook his head and slowly turned only halfway around. He held up his phone in which Rick decided their little exchange was over. He turned on his heel and headed back to the elevators.
Rick's cell phone buzzed in his pocket again. Pulling his cell out, the caller ID was just a number.
"Hello?" He answered.
"You still don't know me?" Rick heard Mike's voice through the receiver and in the hallway creating an echo effect. Rick closed his eyes, breathing deeply and choosing quickly his next action.
The elevator pinged and the door slowly opened.
"Hey, let's talk for a minute," Mike said, his footsteps picked up speed. The last thing Rick wanted to do was fight this man. "I wanna know how you know Michonne?"
The elevator doors creaked open as Rick opened his eyes.
"Shit," was all he could say as his eyes fell upon Michonne and Andre.
Tune in another year and four months now... j/k my goal is to finish this very strange journey Rick and Michonne are on, in this lifetime. Thank you to all the new readers who discovered this fic, it was really amazing to get new reviews even while absent and to those who've been around since the beginning, I'm really sorry :(