...
I see a bad moon a-rising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin'
I see bad times today
Don't go 'round tonight
It's bound to take your life
There's a bad moon on the rise
Beth jabbed her phone screen angrily, her head still buried under her pillow as she quieted her alarm. Squinting at the device to read the time, she tried to remember ever setting her phone to play such an ominous song.
4:00am, Monday, September 18
Pushing herself upright, she began her day with the usual bathroom activities. The shower rattled on, the pipes groaning a moment before bursting forth with icy water. Beth glared at the shower head until it finally warmed up to something tolerable.
"Remind Dean to get the water heater checked out." She muttered under her breath, while washing her hair quick and efficiently. Soon she was drying off and then applying her favorite lotion. She finished up and headed towards her bedroom only to trip over the rumpled bathmat. Beth gasped as she caught herself from falling, bracing her hand on the mirror affixed to the back of her bathroom door. Splintering cracks feathered out below her palm, the mirror cracking in hairline fractures up its surface.
"Shit." She muttered, slowly pulling her hand away to see a small cut on her palm.
Beth cleaned the tiny wound quickly, while muttering yet another reminder for Dean. "Replace the bathroom mirror."
She dressed casually for the morning before shuffling off to the kitchen to prepare for her visitors. It wasn't everyday that one confessed to murder to the FBI. It called for her most tried and true recipes.
"The croissants are filled with chocolate-hazelnut, and that's streusel with Saigon cinnamon and burnt orange morning roll." Beth waved a hand over the table of sweet confections she appropriately tagged on her instagram, #ToDieFor.
"No buckle?" Turner referenced their previous conversation, his tone dry and unamused at her presentation.
"Not today." Beth replied, her red lips pulling into her best P.T.A smile. "Don't be shy!"
"Whenever you're ready, Mrs. Boland."
Beth had everything she was going to say planned, every possible answer for every possible question. She knew what she had to do but her lips paused for what felt like an eternity before she forced the words out.
"My name is Elizabeth Irene Boland. And this is how I murdered Leslie Peterson."
"So who's the new manager? Whoever it is, he's phoning it in. Nana got sold a yogurt from September. No way he's rotating the milk." Boomer's voice was an annoying droll in Beth's mind, the weaselly little shit sitting across from them like he wasn't ruining their lives.
"We are being charged with your murder, you piece of..." Annie growled, sitting forward slightly before leaning back as Miriam entered the dining room.
"Would anyone like a soft drink? Girls?" Miriam asked as she shuffled in with a tray of cookies.
"No, thank you." The girls replied stiffly, all three of them perched to continue the conversation as quickly as possibly.
"I'll have a Tab." Boomer flashed his grandmother a smile. Beth felt her fist tightening with the urge to break another bottle of whiskey over his ginger head. She shoved the urge away and whipped her phone out of her pocket. She began dialing the number she'd memorized off Turner's business card.
"What are you doing?" He exclaimed, reaching towards her phone.
"Calling the cops and telling them that you're alive." She spoke matter of factly, her eyes not even rising as he began stuttering.
"You can't do that."
"Watch." She growled back, her blue eyes blazing with frustration. Everything always seemed to be against her and she was sick of it.
"They'll kill me."
"The cops?" Beth raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"The gang!" His mustache was twitching anxiously.
"Screw this fool!" Ruby exclaimed while leaning forward to jab a finger in his direction. "You're gonna go in there, you're gonna show them your new Flavor Savor, and you're gonna tell them you've never been better."
"Oh... Oh yeah, okay." Boomer mocked, nodding his head as if to pacify them.
"Yeah, 'cause we're not about to go down for your sorry ass." Annie crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
"Then I'll tell them about the other sorry ass." Boomer drawled, his eyebrows raised and smile curling his lips.
"What other sorry ass?" Beth was shaking her head as he grinned.
"The one in the trash bag." He replied evenly, pausing as his grandmother set a glass of soda down in front of him. "I'm gonna need a straw, nana."
When she exited the room he continued, "I saw how you threw him in the back of a minivan like a wet dog."
"How?" Annie scoffed, throwing a hand up in frustration.
"I hid out behind Mary Pat's. Lived off the land. You can drink your own urine till it's brown." Boomer explained, his expression laced with pride.
"You were like 100 yards from a 7-Eleven." Ruby's face screwed up in disgust at his statement.
"They have cameras."
"I'm sorry." Annie said mockingly. "So that's your plan? You're gonna hole up like Anne Frank up there for the rest of your life?"
"No." Boomer smirked, leaning forward as though sharing a secret. "There's a surgeon in Tampa. Does full facial reconstruction. He's the only guy Escobar would ever use. It's like witness protection, but only better. You know, I get a new face, I get to start over."
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." Annie glanced at Beth who was seconds from slapping the man across the face. She was exhausted by the back and forth, the push and pull of every single problem that seemed to always pile up around her. If she could rewind time, she'd go back and hand Boomer and Mary Pat over to Rio.
"I want my life back, okay? You know, whatever. What do you care?" He asked before murmuring to Miriam as she gave him a straw. "Thank you."
"How much?" Beth muttered.
"All of it. Nose, cheekbones, jaw. Nana, get my vision board.."
"Which one?" She was moving towards the closet as she spoke. "The girls or the cards?"
Boomer scoffed at her question, "The face one."
"How much does it cost?" Beth snapped, her patience for all things Boomer coming to a end.
"No!" Ruby screeched, slamming her hand on the table in frustration.
"You couldn't afford it." Boomer smarmy smile turned her guts.
"Neither can you." Beth countered evenly, a fire brewing in her chest at the idea of handing over another dollar to someone who didn't deserve it. She couldn't ever get ahead.
"We are not going down this road again. We're gonna buy him a new face and he's going to ghost us. Again." Ruby was furious next to her.
"First you show cops old face." Beth spoke firmly, nodding her head.
"First you show me money." Boomer crossed his arms over his plaid pajamas.
"Well, who are you even going for?" Annie asked, her eyebrows raised high and curious.
"Rupert Grint."
"The ginger from Harry Potter?" Ruby scoffed.
"Yes, the doctor said he's closest to my bone structure. You know what? It's not that far off." Boomer exclaimed. "Where is she with the vision board? Nana!"
"Jesus Christ." Annie muttered, her eyes wide and disturbed.
Beth rubbed her temples tiredly. She was so over everything.
After frantically knocking for more than an acceptable time, Beth found her way into Rio's loft through the fire escape. Again. Only it was barren, every mid-century modern console table and cashmere sweater gone.
Her pocket began to buzz the moment she entered the vacant living room.
"Hi." Beth spoke cautiously, the number flashing blocked on her caller id.
"Hey." Rio's voice was a low rumble in her ear, the familiar sensation of hearing it running through her body. A steady thrumming that started at the base of her neck and buzzed down her spine to settle into a slow growing heat between her thighs. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, squeezing her legs together at the throb he caused.
"How are you?" She croaked, her eyes fluttering a bit at the flush taking over her body.
"What's going on?" He drawled, the gravel in his words only igniting her need further.
"Your neighbors said you moved out." Beth replied softly, her feet pacing the empty loft. It felt so cold and desolate without Rio's things. The hollow click of her heeled boots echoing off exposed brick and tall windows.
"Yeah, something like that." Rio spoke easily, the anger barely trickling into his tone.
"Where'd you go this time? Epcot? Six Flags?" She asked coyly, her words only slightly sarcastic and bitter.
"What do you want, Elizabeth?" His voice turned harder as he became fed up with her small talk.
"I need some money again." She sighed, her hand tightening around the phone as she felt shame paint her cheeks. Beth was tired of needing help, she hated asking for it from anyone but especially Rio. The embarrassment was almost cripplingly.
"I gave you the keys to the kingdom." He sounded bored, almost distracted by the familiar conversation.
"I know."
"But you didn't want 'em."
"If I could ask anyone but you, I would. I'm in real trouble, all right?"
"That Fed's got a real hard-on for you, huh?"
"Not the good kind." Beth said jokingly, pacing the loft, her finger tracing the countertop. She couldn't help but think of what a good kind was. Flashes of Rio pinning her against a bar bathroom, his hips grinding between her thighs. Fast and hard. The way his skin glowed in the afternoon sunlight filtering through her patio doors. That time moved just as hungry but lasted so much longer, fingertips tracing curves, lips tasting every inch.
"Thing is, I'm a little dry right now. You know how it is." He was speaking but her eyes were on the kitchen island, her mind playing through a filthy scene of Rio spreading her out across it like a thanksgiving feast. His head buried between her thighs. His tongue lapping at her core like a hungry animal.
"What are you doing?" Rio rumbled in her ear, pulling her back from the edge of an erotic downward spiral. She could feel the slickness in her panties, her core clenching at the images still burning behind her eye lids.
"What do you mean?" She murmured, her words breathy as she turned away from the kitchen to push the fantasy from her mind.
"I mean, right now. What are you doing?" Rio asked, his voice sending shivers down her spine.
"Nothing." She replied, a lie spilling out of her mouth as she paced again. "Just getting my hair cut."
"Don't." The word was gruffer than the others and brought her feet to a halt, her fingers rising to twirl the ends of her strawberry blonde locks. "What?"
"Don't cut it." He expanded, his voice turning smoother and rougher within the same sentence.
"It's just a little trim." Her own voice became soft, her cheeks flaming at his demand, as though he cared what she looked like. His next words hitched her lungs, stuttering her steps to a halt again.
"I like pushing it out of your face."
Beth couldn't help but simulate the sensation of him doing just that, her fingertips tucking a stray strand behind her ear as her eyes slipped closed. She hated that she missed him, hated even more that she was responsible for his absence.
"Yeah, just like that." He drawled deeply, the wantonness catching her as much as the connotation. He was watching her at that very moment. Her eyes scanned the loft until she found a camera up high in the beams.
"Ahh, you got me." Rio drawled, his annoying smirk coming through the phone. "So listen, I wish I could help."
"You could. You choose not to." She snapped, her hand tightening into a fist as her cheeks burned with anger.
"Ah, don't be like that, Elizabeth."
She hated that he always had the upper hand. No matter what the situation, he was always towering over her. She glared at the camera with the phone dropping to her side, hoping beyond hope that he couldn't see glassiness of her eyes.
She was on her own. Like always.
"Is that all I am? work."
-"Yeah, pretty much."
"That's it?"
-"That's it."
It was an oldie but a goodie, Beth figured armed robbery had worked for them before. Why not up the ante and case a bank? What could go wrong?
"It's a suicide mission." Ruby muttered incredulously.
"It worked." Beth explained, picking up a cardboard coaster. "So this guy would go to a bar, order a beer, order lunch like a burger, awesome blossom, whatever and then he would take a coaster, put it on the top of his glass like he was going to the bathroom or something."
Pausing mid story, she motioned to the waitress. "Excuse me! I'm sorry. Could we get some ketchup?"
As she left, Beth continued, "Then he would rob the place, come back with a bag of cash, enjoy the game and, like, finish his lunch."
Ruby looked far from convinced, and really Beth figured she should be wary. Most of her plans turned to shit but really what choice did they have.
"Stupid is what it is."
"It's kind of a perfect alibi." Beth smirked before popping a french fry into her mouth.
"Not if he was on "20/20" talking about how he got caught."
"What do you want to do?" Beth huffed, throwing her hand up in frustration.
"Call the cops on that weaselly little bitch." Ruby snapped, her patience wearing thin.
"Okay." Beth spoke plainly, her eyebrows raised.
Ruby looked surprised but copied her response. "Okay."
"Okay and then he, um, tells 'em about Jeff and they dig him out of my front yard." Beth shrugged, her eyes returning to the game on the tv. She knew her best friend would agree to it, but knew it would take a bit to get her to follow her lead.
"We do this, we're straight up hoodlums." Ruby grumbled, sipping her sweet tea.
"I hear you, but... Jeff"
"It's insane!" Ruby hissed under her breath as he waitress dropped off the ketchup bottle.
"Thank you." Beth gave her a sweet smile before glancing at Ruby with a single word in response. "Jeff."
"We didn't kill him." Ruby muttered, picking up a French fry.
Beth stopped the waitress again, solidifying their future alibi just a little bit more by being a memorable pain in the ass customer. "Excuse me. I'm sorry. Can we also get a side of ranch? "
"Ooh, yes. Ranch." Ruby moaned mid chew, her eyes bright.
"Thanks." Beth smiled congenially at the irritated waitress, her eyes moving to Ruby as she walked away. "But Turner will make it look like we did."
"Couple of cameras, one security guard." Annie spoke blandly while chewing a French fry when she joined them seconds later. "Everybody is old. I'm not talking Liam Neeson old, I'm talking, like, Benjamin Button old."
Beth cocked and eyebrow, silently waiting for Ruby to give in.
"I mean, like, little. Like I mean I could take them, you know? Honestly, I'm not sure why we waited so long... Who's winning?"
"Who cares?" Ruby muttered, gulping the rest of her drink down. Beth smirked, her eyes lighting up. "I know we can do it. Everything's gonna be fine."
They ate while talking over their plan, all three drinking away the stress.
"What do you keep humming?" Beth slurred later that evening in the uber they all shared.
"I don't know." Annie murmured, "I heard it in the bank and can't get it..." she hiccuped several times. "Outta my head."
"It's Creedence." The driver replied without looking back. "Bad Moon Rising."
"Like, the arms wide open guy?" Annie asked with a wrinkled brow, her arms stretched out across the backseat in front of the other women.
Beth giggles, "No. God Annie. That's Creed."
"What? How do I know who what he said it is?"
"You're drunk." Ruby murmured, leaning against the window. "Just stop talking."
"I'm just saying."
"Stop saying."
"You stop saying, lady."
"Both of you stop saying." Beth scolded, rolling her eyes at the driver in the mirror. "No arguing when the car's moving."
"Excuse me." Beth smiled widely at the familiar waitress. "Hi, um, they're in the bathroom but, um I can order. She's going to have the black bean burger, and she'll have the chicken quesadilla."
With a nod, the waitress left Beth to nervously watch the bank across the street. Eventually the television pulled her attention away from the front window, the words kickstarting her heart.
Our kingdom is fully stocked and ready to serve your needs. We offer wholesale pricing. So why sleep like a pauper when you can sleep like a king?
Come visit Detroit's premiere mattress store and we'll give you the keys to the kingdom.
It was all there. Every single stick of furniture and bright green artwork from Rio's loft. Every single faux dollar bill and roll of wrapping paper had been returned to the storage unit in her name.
"It's like $400 cashmere." Ruby gasped, her fingers combing over the lush fabric.
"All in my name." Beth commented, as the girls thumbed through clothing and stacks of money.
"Why?" Ruby's eyes were wide and mouth falling open. "Think I can take some for Stan?"
Beth shrugged, nodding her head as she crossed her arms and surveyed the storage units open in front of them.
"So where is he?" Ruby asked, her arms loaded up with sweaters.
"Who is he?" She huffed, feeling at a total loss as to what it all meant. Had everything been a lie? Had it truly only ever been work, a long-con to make her the scapegoat for everything. Payback for getting him arrested all those months ago.
"Are you gonna kill me?"
-"Nah. I'm gonna teach you."
Well, she was finally learning her lesson. She didn't know anything about Rio, who he was, where he was or what his motivations were.
"It's not Photoshopped."
Boomer looked at the pictures of pallets of money in the storage units. "Where is it?
"Dequinder and McNichols." Beth grit her teeth as he continued to squint at the screen.
"Where?"
"In a storage unit."
Boomer held out his hand in their direction, his eyebrows raised as he waited.
"Nobody's gonna low five you, dick." Annie scoffed, leaning back in her chair.
"Give me the key." Boomer pushed the phone towards them, his arms crossing over his chest.
"After you go in to the cops." Beth retorted.
"Oh, I'll go in." Boomer nodded at the statement, but his lip curled cruelly.
"Yeah, you will."
"After I get the key." Boomer snapped, his hand out again as though they would even consider it. Beth ground her teeth together as they argued back and forth for a solid half hour before Boomer kicked them out.
They were stuck between a blackmailing weasel and a strong arming gang leader, while surrounded by the FBI. Beth couldn't understand how this became her life.
"I got you tickets to Bey." Beth informed, holding out the concert tickets to a Ruby while they drank on her back porch. "Happy birthday."
"It's not for two months." Ruby looked down at the tickets before her eyes rose to Beth's.
"Surprise!"
"Are you trying to age me?" Ruby sounded skeptical, her brow furrowed as Beth shrugged nonchalantly. She hadn't been too sure that she would tell Ruby her plan to confess to the murder but now that she sat next to her longest and truest friend, she couldn't not.
"Take Stan, okay?" Beth sipped her drink, her gaze on the backyard and starry sky.
"What if he's in jail?" Her voice trembled a bit at the mere idea of it.
"He won't be." Beth croaked, clearing her throat to confess her next move.
"How do you know?"
Beth took a gulp of her alcohol before speaking. "Cause he's going to take that deal. It's my fault."
"Okay, I'm cutting you off." Ruby plucked the glass from Beth's hand, setting it aside with a scowl.
"I'm turning myself in." Beth explained, her tone final.
Ruby raised her eyebrows in confusion and spoke cautiously. "Okay?"
"Why should it be you or Annie?" Beth shrugged heavily, her throat tightening. "I made you do it. Can I have my drink back?"
"Made us?" Ruby scoffed, her expression turning sour. "Which part? "
"The store, the money, Jeff, all of it. Take your pick." Beth held her hand out for the drink so rudely taken from her.
Ruby ignored her reaching and retorted. "We could've said no."
"But you never say no." Beth sighed, tucking hair behind her ears.
"I am not your yes man."
"No, you're a really good friend." Beth quipped, her head cocking to the side in thought. "Do you think she'll open with "Single Ladies"?"
"This is crazy." Ruby's eyes were blurry but she still replied. "No, that'd be an encore. I'm not gonna let you."
"Then we all go down." She muttered, adjusting the knit blanket they shared to cover her legs better. "And what is that? That's stupid?"
"So now I'm stupid?"
"Shut up." Beth scoffed, her hand out making grabby motions. "Can I have my drink?"
She'd stayed at Ruby until almost midnight, both women taking time they figured were their last to enjoy each other's company. When the alcohol had them sleepy, and they planning of the following day complete, Beth ordered an Uber to take her home. She was sitting in the backseat feeling drowsy but clearheaded, her mind rolling through everything she needed to do to get ready for the following days. How did one prepare to confess to a crime they didn't commit? What kind of crazy checklist needed to be completed when throwing yourself on a live grenade to stop the lives of the ones you loved from being blown to hell? Music from the staticky speakers finally interrupted her plotting, the song seeming to follow her everywhere.
There's a bad moon on the rise
I hope you got your things together
I hope you are quite prepared to die
Look's like we're in for nasty weather
One eye is taken for an eye
Oh don't go 'round tonight
It's bound to take your life
There's a bad moon on the rise
There's a bad moon on the rise
"Can you shut that off please?" Beth complained, as she drunkenly stared out the window. "I hate that song."
"Ow! Too hard!" Jane squeaked as Beth hugged her fiercely. She knew these were her last moments before everything her kids thought they knew about their mother was destroyed. Soon she would be a confessed murderer and the innocent veil that her kids wore would be torn from their eyes. Soon everyone would know she wasn't who she said she was.
"Well, you're just too delicious." Beth choked on the words, her lips pressing firmly to her daughter's temple.
"What's, uh, what's on tap for you today?" Dean asked, looking her over curiously. She wasn't sure if he was reading the dread that had settled in her body overnight or if he was just trying to plan his day.
"The usual." Beth smiled without it touching her eyes, her gaze following the kids as they gathered they're book bags and lunch sacks.
"Hmm, you made enough for an army." Dean looked over the giant platters of desserts she slaved over all morning.
"Book club." Beth replied evenly, a tiny smile curling her lips as she ushered them towards the door. She needed to clean up and change before her special guests arrived. She wasn't going to go to jail looking anything less than put together.
"All right, let's go, people." Dean clapped his hands. "Let's go. Move out! Chop chop, chop chop."
"Dean." Beth croaked, clearing her throat as she wrapped her arms around her stomach anxiously. "You look nice."
Dean starred at her a moment in confusion before smiling softly. "See you later?"
She wasn't sure if he was sensing the soon to be end of everything they had but she revealed nothing in return. "Yup."
"All right, let's go." Dean replied, herding the kids out of the house, leaving Beth on her own. She stared at the closed door for a solid minute before heading to her bedroom, her mind already running through her wardrobe options.
"And then I backed my car over him. And I wrapped him in a tarp."
-"Officer Hill said in his affidavit this morning that you put the body in the freezer."
"Does it matter?"
-"I'm afraid it does. How did you fit the body in the freezer?"
"You know those electric knives, the ones you use at Thanksgiving?"
The confession went as well as to be expected and the car ride over to the police station was silent. It wasn't until Turner was walking Beth inside that she began to feel the nerves rattle through her body. She set her jaw and clenched her a handcuffed fists to keep from breaking under the pressure. She wanted to take it all back but it was far too late for that. She had to save her family from going down for something she'd instigated.
"You need a water or something?" Turner asked as they strode through the lobby of the station, his demeanor slightly more relaxed after finally getting what he wanted.
"That would be nice." Beth replied softly, her throat suddenly feeling very parched.
"Do you want to call your husband?" The offer was surprising but Beth shook her head.
"In a bit." She supplied. "He's at a job interview."
"Oh." Turner seemed thrown off by her collected response, the hand wrapping her arm squeezing it comfortingly. "This way."
A voice stopped Agent Turner instantly, his feet grinding to a halt as the hand holding Beth's arms tightened to almost painful.
"Hey, Jimmy. How you been?" Boomer greeted them, while sitting next to Miriam. The man very much alive and decidedly not dismembered and wrapped in garbage bags.
"Hey, how was, uh, how was book club?" Dean asked as he folded laundry on the sofa, his eyes glued to the television.
"I lied." Her mind fluttered over her confession before explaining to his questioning look. "I didn't read the book."
"I didn't get that job."
"Then it wasn't meant to be." She murmured, her arms crossing as he looked over the back of the sofa at her.
"Where we're getting money from, I have no idea." Dean huffed, sliding the laundry basket aside.
"We could put the apartment thing on hold. Until we can afford it, you know?" Beth rounded the sofa to take a seat next to him.
"Yeah. Smart."
"Oh, no!" She noticed the movie on the screen, a cult classic he'd made her watch a hundred times over.
"Like a fine wine. Ooh, so good!" Dean crowed and then quoted his favorite movie line. "I shall serve no fries before their time."
Beth rolled her eyes and leaned back into the cushion with a sigh. "How many times have you seen this?"
"It's impossible to count right." Dean joked, nudging her elbow with his.
"Yeah, no, it's impossible."
When she'd gone to her van to grab her cell phone she hadn't expected to be stuffed inside a trunk, a stiff cotton sack muffling her panicked breathes. If Beth had, she wouldn't have worn her tight jeans and flimsy slippers.
One moment she was grabbing her phone and the next she was snatched from behind. She hadn't had a second to fight back before the trunk closed and the car started moving. Fear gripped her heart. It thudded hard against her chest as she struggled with the binds around her wrists. She writhed to get free but the harder she tried, the tighter it seemed her restraints got. Tears choked her throat as her kids faces began to run through her mind, the way they would cry when she never came home.
What had she been thinking? Robbing, stealing, money laundering.
Lunacy.
Pure lunacy and now, now she was being taken to lords knows where, for what was sure to be a shallow grave.
There weren't enough memories of handcrafted halloween costumes and homemade birthday cakes in the world too make up for her being torn from her kids lives. They would never get over the loss and by the time they graduated high school, they would probably forget what she looked or sounded like.
And it was all her fault.
A sharp tug on the sack covering her face had Beth blinking through a head of messy hair. Her heart was racing as she caught the shadowed face in front of her. She gasped as he cut her wrist free before stepping away from her.
"I got you a gift." He rasped, the rough drawl of it too lazy for the circumstances.
Beth gaped at him him for a second, her hands turning to fists. "What is wrong with you? " she screeched, her slippered foot stomping in anger.
"You know, you're always saying I don't help?" Rio's shoulders rolled with a shrug, his sharp chin tipping to the man bound of the floor. "That's me helping. This right here? That's your problem. Take care of it."
"I already did." Beth couldn't believe her eyes, Turner was bloodied and gagged at their feet. She watched him stare at her with an unsettled look in his eyes. He squirmed with his restraints, his body slouched against a pillar in Rio's loft.
"Nah, he's not just gonna let you walk away now."
"I fixed it." She insisted, shifting away from Rio as he paced.
"He knows your entire bag of tricks, darlin' what you do, who you are." His smile turned feral. "He even knows what makes your garden grow."
His laughter rumbled out, that cocky smirk that used to twist her core into pleasant knots. Now it struck fear in her heart, she'd always underestimated him and his ability to get what he wanted.
"Oh. my bad. Yeah, I might've let that last one slip. Now, a guy like that can't let that slide." He slid up close, his chest brushing against hers as he rasped lowly in her ear but loud enough for Turner to hear. "How does that saying go? Cockle shells, silver bells, bodies all in a row? Ain't that right, boss?"
Rio's hands grasped hers, his gun sliding into her palms. She felt him squeeze her hands into place before he stepped aside. "Come on. Just like we practiced. You got this."
Beth held the gun in her hand, her eyes on the FBI agent tied on the floor. She knew the man would never let up but she also knew she couldn't just kill him. She wasn't a psychopath.
"Come on." Rio encouraged, his tone turning frustrated.
"I don't want it."
"Yeah, well, I didn't get a gift receipt." He snapped, his hands settling into fists inside his pockets.
"Then why don't you do it?" Beth growled back, the gun pointing at the floor.
"'Cause it's on you."
"No, it's not!" She shouted, her cheeks flush and chest heaving.
"Yeah. Yeah it is, mama."
"You put it on me."
"You asked for it." Rio hissed, his dark gaze pinning her with something close to fury.
"You put everything on me! The money, the dealership." Beth's voice cracked, her emotions overflowing as everything caught up with her.
"Not easy being king, right?" His mocking tone only ignited her anger and frustration. She was so exhausted of feeling the weight of everything on her shoulders.
"You put it all on me so it's never on you. Nothing's ever on you!"
"Yeah, well, now you got a bigger problem, don't you?" Rios words were getting sharper, she could tell he was reaching the end of his patience with her. She felt her heart quicken as his eyes darkened the longer she refused to do as he said.
"You think he's my problem?" Beth asked breathlessly, her hands trembling with the weight of the gun as she waved it Turner's direction.
Rio nodded decisively, his chin tipping to the other man. "So put on your big girl panties and take care of it."
"He's not my problem." Beth screeched, pointing the gun at Rio with more intent than the first time they'd done this dance.
"Shut your mouth, bitch, and just.."
She didn't want to shoot him, she didn't want to shoot anyone but then he'd reached for her and she'd reacted. The first shot landed in his chest and seemed to shock everyone in the room at the same time.
Beth stared with wide eyes and before she realized it, she'd squeezed the trigger two more times as he reached for her again.
The ringing of the gunshots and the sound of Rio coughing up blood was all Beth could hear for hours. She'd wandered home somehow, eventually clinging to Dean like some kind of life-raft in a sea of despair once she'd arrived. He hadn't known what happened, only comforted her until she crawled into bed fully clothed. He removed her dirty slippers and tucked her in before leaving her bedroom.
I see a bad moon a-rising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin'
I see bad times today
Don't go 'round tonight
It's bound to take your life
There's a bad moon on the rise
"God, why." Beth grumbled, scrubbing her eyes of sleep as she peered down at her phone screen.
4:00am, Monday, September 18
Turning off the alarm, Beth pushed herself upright to ready herself for the stressful day ahead. She felt far more hungover than she expected, her eyes fluttering at the pain in her head.
It wasn't everyday that one confessed to being a murderer to the FBI. She needed to do it right and with a style that would make her PTA friends jealous of her seat on death row.
Stripping off her pajamas she tried to remember how much she drank the evening before, her head feeling hazy and unsettled. She'd had the weirdest dream that seemed fuzzier the longer she tried to recall it. She remembered something about being in a dark place, a feeling of suffocation and then nothing. She could feel the edges of anxiety still rattling through her body but the harder she tried, the less she could remember.
Shaking off the feeling, Beth turned on the knob in her shower stall. The head sputtered to life, icy water raining down on her hand before it finally heated up.
"Dean needs to check on the water heater." She reminded herself, the mental notes she'd started to collect becoming a huge laundry list.
She showered quickly, her hands scrubbing her hair clean and then body moisturized once dried. As she stepped away from the mirror to enter her bedroom, Beth tripped over the bathmat. She fell face first towards the tile floor, only catching herself last minute by bracing herself on the bathroom door. The long mirror attached to the surface splintered under the pressure, spiderwebbed cracks spreading out below her palm. The sensation of it had her dizzy, a strange sense of déjà vu filling her chest and head.
"Shit." Beth muttered, pulling her bloodied palm from the broken mirrored surface. She felt a strange tingling in the back of her mind, a sense of having experienced the event before. But that didn't make sense as the mirror hadn't been damaged prior to her falling. Shaking off the sensation, she cleaned up the tiny cut on her palm and added the needed repair to the list of things Dean would need to take care of when she was gone. She had too much to do to sit around wondering what strange dreams she had or the odd feeling settled between her shoulder blades.
"Gift from the D.A." Turner pushed the folder towards Beth. "It's what we talked about. Country club living, time for good behavior. All of it."
"And everyone else walks away?" Beth asked, her hands flipping through the paperwork inside the file folder.
"D.A. signed off. Now you." The FBI agent replied. "Where do you want to do this?"
Beth swallowed thickly, nerves slowly growing inside her. "I put out some sweets in the other room."
"My name is Elizabeth Irene Boland, and this is how I murdered Leslie Peterson."
The words felt familiar but she begged it off as the preparations she made for the event. She'd repeated her thoughts on her confessions for days, now that she was saying it out loud, it felt as though she'd done it all before.
"And then I backed my car over him. And I wrapped him in a tarp."
-"Officer Hill said in his affidavit this morning that you put the body in the freezer."
"Does it matter?"
-"I'm afraid it does. How did you fit the body in the freezer?"
"You know those electric knives, the ones you use at Thanksgiving?"
If Beth didn't hate the slimy little worm so much, she would've kissed Boomer on his dopey freckled face. His sudden appearance at the police station saved her ass from prison and made Agent Turner look like a fool.
While in the uber that brought her home from the police station, Beth allowed herself to go over the rollercoaster of a day. It couldn't have worked out better in Beth's mind, well except if a certain someone would've lifted a finger to help out.
Like often, her mind strayed to Rio. Even after everything, the lies and manipulation, she still craved him. There was an addicting magnetism about him. Beth actually felt seen, in a way that she hadn't been in her whole life. It was quite easily habit forming. His eyes, those lips. Capable of taking her spirts higher than ever, before grinding her self-worth into the ground under his sneakered heel. She hated him.
"Hate you."
-"Hate your face."
Maybe she just hated that she liked him despite all of it.
The cotton sack over her head smelled musty, the thickness of it making it hard to breath. The tears soaking her cheeks made her eye makeup run, the gumminess of her mascara clumping her eyelashes together. All she wanted was to go home but as she was marched up a staircase and dragged through several doorways, her hope to survive dwindled.
Suddenly the sack covering her face was pulled away and Beth found herself somehow unsurprised by Rio's face beyond her messy bangs. She gasped regardlessly as he slipped a knife between her wrists and freed her hands.
"I got you a gift." He rasped, the rough drawl of it as lazy as always.
Beth glared at him, her hands balled at her sides. "What's wrong with you?"
"You know, you're always sayin' I don't help?" Rio rolled his shoulder with a easy shrug, his grin aimed at the man bound of the floor.
Beth was dizzy from the whole exchange, her body feeling as though it'd been transported to some alternate universe where everything repeated itself. His words seemed to scroll through her head seconds before his lips moved. Beth was unable to even unpack that disorienting realization, before Rio was speaking again.
"That's me helping. This right here? That's your problem. Take care of it."
The image of Turner bound and gagged seemed familiar, his scuffed face and bruised eye. Blinking in confusion, Beth replied. "I already did... all of this happened before."
"Yeah I know, we keep runnin' in circles, ma. You never listen."
"No, you don't get it."
"Clean up your mess, Elizabeth." Rio shouted, pointing an angry finger in Turner's direction.
She looked at the man as he stared up at her with an pleading look in his eyes. He squirmed with his restraints, his body resting against the brick pillar.
"he ain't walkin' away from you." Rio voice pulled her eyes from the beaten FBI agent. "He'll always be lookin' to nail your ass."
"I fixed it already." She growled, stepping away from Rio as he paced closer towards her. "He saw that Boomer's alive. I'm in the clear."
"He knows your entire bag of tricks, darlin'. What you do, who you are." His smile turned feral. "He even knows what makes your garden grow."
His laughter shook his body, his cocky smirk twisting her stomach while also infuriating her. Beth was suddenly aware of his nearness, her breath stolen as his fingers brushed the edges of her hair.
"Oh. my bad. Yeah, I might've let that last one slip. Now, a guy like that can't let that slide." His chest brushed against hers as he rasped. "How does that saying go? Cockle shells, silver bells, bodies all in a row?"
Rio looked over at Turner. "Ain't that right, boss?"
Beth swallowed thickly, her body trembling with nerves as Rio returned to her side. He grabbed her wrist and slide his gun into her palm. He deftly positioned her fingers around the cold metal grip before he sauntered away, his head cocking to the side.
"Come on. Just like we practiced. You got this."
Beth held the gun in her hand, trying to shake off the icy feeling walking its fingers up her spine. Her gaze was on the FBI agent tied on the floor, but her mind was unravelling. She knew Turner would never let up but she wasn't a killer. No matter what Rio said, she wasn't going to step over that line willingly.
"Come on." Rio growled, his words becoming frustrated.
"I don't want this." She waved a hand towards Turner. "This won't work."
"Yeah, well, I didn't get a gift receipt." His hands settled into fists inside his pockets. "So do it already."
"Why don't you do it." Beth snapped, the gun pointing at the floor rather than at the bound man.
"'Cause it's on you." His voice was growing harsher, the grit that used to make her thighs clench with pleasant anticipation turning her stomach for new reasons. She felt a sense of dread filling her, the gun in her hand feeling heavier than ever before.
"No, it's not!" She shouted, her hand tightening.
"Yeah. Yeah it is, mama."
"You always do this!" Beth huffed out an angry breath, "you blame me, you use me."
"You asked for it."
"You put everything on me! The money, the dealership." Beth snapped at him, "you put those units in my name. I'm your scapegoat!"
"Not easy being king, right?" Rio smirked at her emotional state, his tongue darting over his lips as she came unglued in front of him.
"You put it all on me, so it's never on you." She screamed, the urge to throw the gun at him almost too strong to overcome. "Nothing's ever on you!"
"Yeah, well, now you got a bigger problem, don't you?" Rio point his sharp jaw in Turner's direction. "Take care of your problems, mama."
"You think he's my problem?" Beth cackled hysterically, her eyes turning wild.
"Yeah." Rio glared at her, "Put on your big girl panties and take care of it."
"He's not my problem." Beth spoke the words but it was almost as though someone else was moving her lips. The strongest feeling of déjà vu filled her head and made her eyes go glassy, but still her hand rose to aim the gun at Rio as he approached.
"Shut your mouth, bitch, and just.." his words were cut off by the loud bang of a gunshot. Beth watched in horror as the blood began to seep through his button down shirt. When his eyes rose from the growing stain, she saw nothing but fury and rage burning in those dark eyes. She didn't hesitate to pull the trigger two more times when he lunged for the weapon.
From that point, time seemed to slow down while also speeding up. Her walk home filled with stumbled steps and blurry surroundings, but suddenly she was entering her home. Her head fluttered through the horrific images of Rio falling to the ground, his mouth coated red as he choked on blood. Beth felt splintered, the images stuttering and replaying over and over, sometimes slightly different than before. Her ears were still ringing from the sharp gunshots reverberating against those brick walls.
By the time she arrived home, Beth was near catatonic. It wasn't until Dean was tucking her into bed when she finally spoke.
"Is it really over?"
Dean looked down at her a moment before answering, "get some sleep, Bethie. You'll feel better in the morning."
I see a bad moon a-rising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin'
I see bad times today
Don't go 'round tonight
It's bound to take your life
There's a bad moon on the rise
Beth gasped loudly, sitting upright in bed, her hand grabbing her phone frantically. She turned the alarm off and squinted at the bright screen.
4:00am, Monday, September 18
"Shit." She muttered, her mind was hazy but the residual images of Rio and Turner were still raw and painful. Beth wasn't sure how many times it had happened, but she was fairly confident she was reliving the most horrible day of her life.