what's so good about picking up the pieces?
The bar and grill Beth was sitting inside of was a small, family-owned business situated away from the noisy, busy part of the city. It had a small bar, dim lights, and a dozen booths lining the walls. There were two TVs above the bar, but they were only airing sports and commercials. The employees seemed laid-back and it appeared to be only regulars residing in the restaurant at the moment, eyes focused on their hot wings and their sports teams. Beth had gotten a seat at a booth in a corner and placed her order – a cheeseburger and fries with a sweet tea – and set out to activate her new phone while she waited. She laid out her things in the seat of the booth and went about reading the manual and typing in the codes that would activate her minutes and data. She sat in a shadowy part of the restaurant, and she'd seen only security cameras pointed at the bar and the entrance when she'd walked in. The staff all seemed either too busy or too young to care about who she may or may not be, so she felt safe in this booth for the moment.
The phone was a pretty basic smartphone. Beth figured out fairly quickly how to download the browser applications she'd need, and within minutes, she was using her new data to check the front page of every news outlet she could think of. Just to be safe, she started with national names like CNN, Fox, and MSNBC. She scrolled and skimmed the headlines, but it seemed that all anyone wanted to talk about in the news lately was President Trump. There were other stories, but it was mostly about mass shootings, missing children, murdered children, or otherwise seriously harmed children. Beth let out a sigh of relief when she'd gotten to the tenth page of headlines on the sixth national news website she could think of and hadn't found a trace of a mention of the Greene Family Farm or the fugitive daughter.
She was beginning to look up all her local news sites from Georgia when a waitress approached her booth and set down a steaming hot cheeseburger and fries, asking if Beth needed anything else.
"No, thank you," Beth said, smiling politely as the waitress nodded and walked away.
She glanced at the burger but didn't touch it, resuming what she'd been doing on her phone. Her search results for Georgia news outlets came up, and the first couple were WSAV TV and Fox 5 Atlanta. She clicked on Fox 5 first, assuming that since it was Atlanta, it would still be pretty big news.
And disappointingly, she was right. The first large, bold headline on the website was something the President had done, but the second headline – still very large and bold – read, "Search For Missing Drug Lord Continues, Second Day Without A Trace."
It was all she could do to stifle the laugh that nearly burst out of her mouth. Drug lord? Good god, she barely touched the product, let alone run the whole operation.
Talk about fucking sensationalism. Are they trying to get people to care because they don't, for some reason? She thought to herself quizzically. You'd think every pill-popping housewife in Georgia would be all over a case like this, wondering where the seemingly sweet and innocent little cop killer could possibly be going while her whole family sat behind bars.
She clicked on the headline to find that familiar aerial photo of her farm on the night of the bust, followed by her own senior portrait, of course. Below her photo read a small caption, "18-year-old Beth Greene, wanted for murder."
Reading those words directly below a picture of the happy girl she used to be made her sick to her stomach. She glanced at the cheeseburger sitting in front of her again, but looked away quickly when she felt the nausea setting in.
The article stated all the same information she'd heard on the news, and from the gas station attendant, and in The Washington Times. They still weren't mentioning even a breath of a whisper about the FBI. But it had only been two days, so maybe she was just anticipating it too soon. They probably had to do a bunch of paperwork for some shit like this anyway.
She went back to her original search and checked the website for WSAV to see what the Georgia-wide news thought of the importance of her case. To her dismay, it was the biggest and boldest headline at the very top of the page. And they didn't skimp on the photos either.
"Major Drug Bust Outside Atlanta; Entire Family Arrested, Daughter Missing and Wanted For Murder," the bold print screamed at her from the screen of the phone.
Tacky, Beth thought. She was no journalism expert, but she'd edited her high school's yearbook for two years and knew that a headline like that was excessive. She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she continued to read.
Once again, it was the same story she'd already heard. They still weren't releasing the name of the officer she'd killed, but she knew she probably had another few days before she'd finally learn the name of her victim. They weren't even mentioning any more details about Hershel, Maggie, or Glenn. And they seemed to have given up on the Mexico story, because all they'd say was, "She is heading to unknown whereabouts, last seen by authorities running north or northwest of Senoia."
They did, however, catch a very clear glimpse of what she was wearing. The police that had chased her must've gotten a good night's sleep and been able to recount everything in full detail, because this was the first news story she'd seen or heard that described exactly what she was wearing, how long her hair was, what color it was, and that she had no visible tattoos, piercings, or birthmarks. She was silently thanking herself for thinking to change clothes and throw out the whole fugitive outfit. And thanking Maggie for at least thinking to have her change her hair before anything else – definitely her most identifying factor.
She finally set the phone aside and called it a day on the news, at least for now. It relieved her just a little bit to know that the national news wasn't picking up on the story yet. But it also worried her that all the wannabe sensationalists in Georgia were trying to pick the story apart and make it more interesting than it was, which would attract a lot more attention. She could outrun Georgia, but could she outrun all of America? Her only option would be to run to the mountains and find a nice, cozy cave to call home. Learn to live off the land. Grow her leg hair out longer than the hair on her head.
Or maybe she'd just have to turn herself in…
That thought sent a chill down her spine, and all she could hear in her head was the sound of metal bars clanking together, cells being locked, flimsy food trays hitting plastic surfaces. She could almost make out the jingle of the chains that would be around her wrists and ankles.
She shook the thoughts from her head and tried to focus on the meal she'd ordered, which was getting colder by the second as it sat before her. But her appetite was completely gone. She checked the time to see that she still had at least three-and-a-half hours to kill before she should start heading back to the RV. But now she was beginning to think it might be a safer idea to just go back and hide for the rest of the day.
Leaving her food untouched, she folded a hundred-dollar bill and tucked it beneath her plate so that only the waitress would find it when she came back. Beth didn't feel like waiting for them to bring her check to her or ring it up, so she left another twenty-dollar bill under her empty glass of sweet tea, just so they'd know she paid for the meal and then some. Then she slipped out of the bar and grill and out onto the sidewalk, sunglasses shading her blue eyes and backpack strapped securely to her bag. The smartphone in her pocket weighed heavy with its reminder of GPS location, but she just kept assuring herself that no one knew who she was, and no one knew it was even her phone. If she had to, she could chuck it into a sewer right now and no one would know the difference.
Everything had to be detachable now. Everything had to be disposable and replaceable. Including her own identity.
Beth spent her last couple of hours alone walking the sidewalks, passing only the occasional office worker on lunch or mom pushing a stroller. She came across a small park and took a leisurely stroll, breathing in the fresh air and staring into the ripples of water in the pond that the park centered around.
She kept referring to herself as Rosie in her head, but she couldn't keep out the intrusive thoughts that were reminding her to enjoy this, that it may be her last tastes of freedom before the law caught up to her. Surprising even to herself, the first thing that came to mind was the image of Dale and Irma's disappointed faces when they realized they'd helped a fugitive cross state lines. It broke her heart to think of how betrayed they'd feel if they found out she was a murderer and not a battered girlfriend.
She kept picturing the cops waiting for her at the RV, guns out and vests strapped tightly to their torsos. They'd spot her from at least a block away, and she'd have no chance to run away this time. They'd probably make her get on the ground and crawl, throw her backpack to the ground, toss away the last of the things she had left from what had once been her big, happy family. Dale and Irma would be terrified and confused, Irma would probably cry and ask "why" over and over again. The handcuffs would be tight on Beth's wrists, and she knew the cops would take no steps to ensure her comfort because, well, she killed one of their own.
Tears brimmed at the edges of her eyes, but she blinked them away as quickly as they came. She took in another deep breath, exhaling slowly and forcing all the bad thoughts out of her head. She couldn't be thinking about what if's, only when's. When she got to New York City, when she made it to safety, when she could lay low and wait for the cops to give up on finding her…
And then what?
She sighed and turned away from the pond, walking back through the park in the direction she'd come. She had a lot of shit to figure out, and only about four more hours of driving time before she'd be thrown into the deep end.
Beth was the first to make it back to the RV, but she hung back and waited for Dale and Irma to appear. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, but she didn't want to get comfortable so soon. She waited about a block away, standing discreetly near a shadowy, low-traffic area. She watched the RV and waited about twenty minutes before she spotted the old couple strolling down the sidewalk toward the parking area. She pulled her father's pocket watch from the pocket of her jeans and checked the time: 7:28.
She had dug the watch out from her bag and decided to keep it in her pocket after she'd left the park. In a weird way, it made her feel just a little closer to her daddy, who was probably sleeping miserably on a thin cot in some prison in Georgia. But it was her daddy, and she had to cherish the few things she had left of her family. She was the last Greene left, which was an idea that she was still trying to come to terms with. She wondered how long it would take them to charge Maggie and Glenn, and if they'd be out with enough time in their lives to start a family like they'd always wanted to.
Beth crossed the street casually and approached Dale and Irma as they were attempting to pull out keys and get inside the RV with their bags of tourist goodies. They looked up and their faces brightened when they saw her. She smiled and waved in greeting, and Irma looked her up and down with enthusiasm.
"Wow, you treated yourself! Oh, you look beautiful," she said, smiling widely.
Beth couldn't help but smile back, genuinely. "Thanks. I just… needed a new look."
Irma gave her a knowing look, as if the two ladies shared a secret, but Beth knew that the real secret was actually much darker. She returned the look nonetheless.
"How was your day? Did you guys get to visit everything?" She asked as Dale unlocked the door to the RV and ushered the ladies inside before following them.
The RV was darker inside since the sun was setting outside, and they had to turn on all the lights before dumping their purchases onto the table and setting about arranging dinner. Beth took a seat, still keeping her bag close.
"Oh, it was lovely!" Irma gushed as she moved about putting things away and admiring her souvenirs. "We visited the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Memorial, The White House – "
"Even though there's a clown inside right now," Dale chirped in.
"Oh, Dale," Irma waved her hand at him dismissively. "That doesn't make it any less beautiful. Or historical! Oh, the stories some of those buildings could tell. So much history in this city."
"And prostitution," Dale added.
Irma shot him a glare but Dale smirked at her, and she couldn't help but smile back. Beth watched with amusement and admiration. They reminded her of her parents, and what felt like forever ago. But it had only been months. Only months ago, they were in love and happy like this together.
"And how was your day, dear? No one bothered you? All by yourself in a big city like this, I was worried the whole time we were out," Irma asked Beth.
Beth shrugged but appreciated the old woman's concern. It was nice to know someone thought of her in a positive light today.
"Oh, I just kind of explored. No one really even looked at me, it was nice. I got some new clothes and a phone, I walked around a park. Pretty uneventful," she explained, but Irma looked enthralled all the same.
"Well that's great. Oh! We got you a souvenir," Irma chirped, suddenly remembering and shuffling through the bags they'd brought in. She pulled out a trinket and handed it over to Beth, who took it carefully.
It was a tiny statue of the Washington Memorial made into a keychain. On one side, 2017 was engraved in bold, black letters.
"That's so nice of you, you didn't have to get me anything. Thank you," Beth told her, standing and giving the older woman an appreciative hug. Irma hugged her back, and Beth could swear the woman had hugged her like she was her own daughter.
"Of course we did! You had to have something to commemorate our little trip together," she told the young brunette, smiling proudly.
Beth smiled back, but silently, she was thinking, Yeah, I'm definitely not forgetting this year anytime soon.
The trio finished their dinner and left Washington, D.C. not long after nightfall, when the city was just beginning to light up as they put it in their rearview mirror. According to Dale, their next stop was Philadelphia. Beth felt some comfort in knowing she only had one more city to make it through before she'd be home-free in New York. She didn't mind the old couple; in fact, they were nice company at times. But she needed the freedom of being on her own to figure out how to be completely independent for the first time in her life. Plus, it was becoming a bit of a chore to check herself and remember what stories she had told them and what facts she had to keep straight. She'd always been very open with her family and able to confide in them, and it was a difficult transition to find herself feeling just as comfortable with Irma and Dale and wanting to tell them the truth, but knowing she couldn't.
She was still finding it hard to believe that they hadn't seen or heard a word of her case in the news. They claimed to be from Atlanta, but did they not pay attention to what happened in Atlanta?
It was normally only a two-and-a-half hour drive from Washington, D.C. to Philadelphia, but Dale and Irma were touring the country and seeing all the sights they'd never bothered to see, so they were taking every scenic route possible. Beth told herself to calm down, to stop being so on edge and antsy for the big city – it would come soon enough. She had to remember that she was out of Georgia, which was the only place that anyone was really looking for her. So far.
But none of that helped her impatience when the old couple wanted to stop at every sign welcoming them to a new state, or every other rest stop for "scenery photos." Beth found herself holding the camera most times. She was starting to see what she'd missed during that fourteen hour nap she'd taken.
She also found herself checking the news sources from earlier way too often. She knew that refreshing the pages every fifteen or twenty minutes wouldn't bring her any new results or update her story any quicker, but it was an impulse that she couldn't seem to control. She'd even resorted to reading through the readers' comments on her articles.
Those made her feel even worse than the articles themselves.
She didn't go through and read every single one, but she saw at least fifty or more, and they all seemed to be along the same lines:
How could such a sweet little girl go so wrong? Too bad, maybe prison will turn her right!
If God were really in their lives, they would've repented and given up their evil ways long ago, now a mother, son, and officer are dead and the whole family is locked up, what a damn waste.
She won't get far. Cop killer? She'll be lucky to make it to prison, and things won't be much better for her there!
Two days and they haven't found this murderer?! How far could she have gotten she's 18! Lock her up!
May God have mercy on her soul. Justice will be served.
RIP to the officer she murdered in cold blood and thoughts and prayers to the officer who's still in a coma. I hope she fries for this!
Hope they give her family the maximum possible sentence. They'll burn in hell for using God to cover up such an evil operation. Let's find her and show her what it means to be an adult and take responsibility for your choices.
Cop killer, don't waste my tax dollars on this low life, let her hang.
The knot in Beth's stomach grew tighter and tighter, larger and larger. She thought she might be sick if she kept reading these hateful comments. The way people really thought was disgusting, and she knew they had a right to judge her in a way, but at the same time, what would they say if they knew the whole story? If it were their daughter, what would they have done…?
No, her momma wouldn't be proud of this, or what she'd done. But she wouldn't shun her or condemn her for it either. Beth had been raised like this, she'd been practically groomed since puberty to be discreet, mindful, wary, and defensive at all times – and for a while, it was for reasons she didn't even understand. She didn't know who she was supposed to be afraid of, or if she was just supposed to be afraid of everyone in general. She didn't know if she was supposed to be expecting something really big and really bad to happen, or if expecting it was what kept it from happening. She didn't know why her family was suddenly so stressed most of the time. And she didn't know when the last time was that she hadn't felt like there were a million secrets being held around her that she couldn't ever find out – or let anyone else find out.
All she knew was that one day, everything in her family changed. And it never went back to being the same again.
"Oh, I can't wait to visit the Betsy Ross House," Irma said cheerfully from the passenger seat at the front of the RV, eyes bright and full of excitement as they drove ahead in the darkness of late evening.
"Well, honey, don't you wanna visit The Liberty Bell?" Dale asked her, eyes focused on the road as he drove carefully, handling the large vehicle as if it were his second nature.
"Of course I do, dear, can't I be excited for both?" Irma replied, smiling playfully.
Beth sat in the booth, legs stretched out across the entirety of one side, and stared out the window, trying to make out the scenery despite the darkness of night. Her phone rested in her jacket pocket and her hand itched to check the news sources again, but after reading those comments, she forced herself to resist. She was pretty sure they'd been driving within sight of Chesapeake Bay for a little while now, and before long, she'd probably be able to see the Delaware River out the window.
But all the walking she'd done that day, even despite her extensive amount of sleep the night before, had worn her out, and the steadily rolling RV was coaxing her into a sleepy lull. Dale and Irma's idle conversations became white noise in the background, and the lights of nearby city skylines became blurrier and blurrier as her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Cars passed by outside the window like the pieces of a child's mobile moving around and around. The Beretta was warm and comfortable beneath her shirt, in its safe little hiding spot under her arm. And her father's pocket watch ticked methodically in her pocket, each second passing by quicker and quicker. Before she knew it, her eyelids were falling shut and becoming too heavy to rise again. Her breathing steadied and her muscles relaxed in a way that they couldn't when she was awake. An odd, comfortable sleep fell over her.
But it didn't last long.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself back at the farm. She was in the backyard and it was dark – like the night she, Maggie, and Glenn had run from the police. But it was silent and still now, undisturbed, almost as if that night had never happened. Beth took a step forward, toward the darkened farm house. She wondered if Daddy was inside, or Maggie.
But when she reached the backdoor and pulled it open, the inside of the house wasn't what it was supposed to be. It was dark and empty, broken glass lying across the scuffed and dirty floor. She stopped and looked around in confusion before realizing there was a dark mass in the far corner.
It was a person lying on the ground. Beth ran toward them, scared to find someone she loved beneath the shadow. When she knelt down, she realized there was a pool of blood lying beneath the motionless heap, its back turned to her. She rolled them over, lifeless arm flopping to the floor as their face slipped away from the darkness.
It was the cop. His olive skin was pale and cold, dark eyes wide open and unseeing. There was a bloody hole in his chest.
Beth gasped and jumped back. Her throat tightened and dread took hold of her insides.
"Bethy."
A voice drifted from behind her, and she turned around. There, in the dim light, standing amidst the broken glass, was her mother. She was still wearing the light blue nightgown she'd been wearing on the night she died, and her long, brown hair was in a braid over her shoulder. But she appeared to be unharmed, and just as Beth liked to remember her.
"Momma?" she struggled to choke out.
"Bethy, what have you done?" her momma asked, voice full of pain and tears forming in her blue eyes – the same eyes as Beth.
"What – I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to kill him, I'm so sorry," Beth tried to explain, suddenly realizing that tears were streaming down her face.
"You're a murderer, Bethy," her momma continued. "Why would you do this… after you saw what happened to me… why would you do it again, Beth?"
"Again? I didn't kill you, Momma. I didn't do anythin' wrong!" Beth was horror-struck, begging her mother not to blame her for her giant mistake.
Her mother's eyes were full of tears now, and a couple leaked out and down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and turned her face away from Beth, unable to look at her. Beth's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.
"You didn't do anything. At all," her momma whispered.
"Momma, I didn't – "
But before she could say anything else, her mother disappeared, leaving her alone in the dark room once more. She turned to see the dead cop still lying there, eyes still staring up into nothing. Another voice came from behind her now, and she turned, afraid to find her mother again.
"Beth!"
But it wasn't her mother. It was Shawn.
"Shawn?"
"Wake up."
"What?"
She was confused now, staring at her brother – who, just like her mother, looked the same as she remembered him, pajamas and mussed, brown hair and all.
"Rosie, wake up." He said, louder this time.
Beth moved to step closer, to reach a hand out for him, but just as she was inches away from him, her body jolted and her eyes popped open. She woke up to find herself still sitting in the booth of Dale and Irma's RV, head rested against the seatback and face turned toward the window.
She looked over to see Irma nudging her, trying to wake her. She had no idea how long the old woman had been standing there trying to rouse her from sleep.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I-I dozed off," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes groggily.
"Sorry to bother you, honey," Irma apologized, her voice soft. "We just got into Philadelphia. We parked and we're gonna sleep here for the night. Do you wanna sleep right here? I can lay out some blankets for you on the floor, if you want more room."
Beth was still a bit in shock from the sudden change of scenery and subject matter. She was still trying to come to terms with reality while she attempted to shake away the haunting images of the dead officer, her momma, and Shawn. The RV was dim and calm, and Dale was rustling around at the other end, in the bedroom area. Irma looked exhausted and ready for bed.
"Uh, I'm-I'm okay. If you have any extra blankets or pillows, that'd be great," Beth said, yawning.
Irma nodded and headed off to fetch some blankets and pillows. She brought them out to Beth and started laying them out in the aisle to make a bed, but Beth stopped her.
"No, I can get it, go on to bed," she told the older woman. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."
With a yawn, the older woman nodded and patted Beth on the shoulder, bidding her goodnight before retiring behind the curtain of the backend of the RV to join Dale. She'd left a light on over the kitchen so that Beth could see, but within minutes, the lights in the bedroom were dark, and the RV was silent and settled for the night.
Beth went about laying out a few blankets for padding, then set up the two pillows she'd been given and the comforter to cover her. She slipped off her boots, pants, jacket, and V-neck shirt, then carefully pulled out the Beretta from the concealed pocket in her shirt. She slipped it beneath her pillow, along with her daddy's pocket watch, before lying down and pulling the comforter over herself, settling in for a full night of sleep.
But now her mind was racing. The images from her short dream wouldn't leave her, and even gripping the gun beneath her pillow wasn't bringing her any comfort. She kept thinking of her momma and Shawn, which made her think about her daddy and Maggie and Glenn. She checked the time on the pocket watch: 11:57. At one point, she held the closed watch to her chest, closing her eyes and trying to imagine her daddy's face, trying to send him some sort of telepathic message. But it didn't make her feel any closer to him. She got the urge to check the news sites once more before going to sleep, but decided against it and convinced herself to wait for the morning, when there may actually be some more news.
It took nearly an hour for her to drift off. But after passing out in Georgia and waking up in Washington, D.C., Beth Greene was finally finding some restful sleep in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
to be continued…
A/N: I'd like to give a huge shoutout to GracieMae11 and Elodie Grimmesey. Thank you guys for being so invested in my story and leaving such kind reviews and feedback. It really means the world to me! I'm honestly having a blast writing this fic and I keep having so many REALLY COOL ideas pop into my head and I have such a loooooong note on my phone about ideas and the timeline for this story and I just really hope you'll stick with me on this ride to see if I can get my shit together and write a coherent tale lmao And as always, if you have any questions or recommendations, feel free to review or PM me. Thanks for reading!