A/N: As promised, here is my weekend update with not one but TWO chapters! So let's just get right into it.
Rick crossed the threshold of his hotel room with a deep exhale, relieved to have finally reached his destination.
The flight was fine enough but midday traffic in downtown Manhattan had been hellish to say the least. It took them an hour longer than expected just to navigate through it.
He left his carry-on by the front door, giving his lodgings a cursory once over in search of the nearest outlet.
With only five percent left on his battery when they landed, he had enough juice to call his in-laws to ask about Ezekiel joining them for dinner.
His mother-in-law welcomed the addition, as he expected she would, and proceeded to keep him on the phone for another five minutes to give him a run down of their menu for the evening.
By the time he hung up, he only had enough battery life to send Michonne a quick text letting her know he had landed just before it died altogether.
He plugged his charger into an outlet on the wall, above above the desk, and waited until the screen lit up before lifting his head to assess his home away from home for the next three days.
There was a small kitchenette to his left, complete with a fully stocked mini-bar. Across from that was a navy blue curved sofa and ivory lounge chair with a small round gold trimmed coffee table between them. The furniture overlooked the impressive expanse of the city skyline through floor to ceiling windows.
A sleek partition divided the main room from the sleeping quarters. On the other side of it he found a king size bed decorated in the same colors as the main room. Adjacent to that was a larger than expected bathroom, complete with dual sinks and freestanding bathtub next to a frosted-glass shower stall.
It all felt very New York City to Rick, but he also knew his wife would love it and made a mental note to book the room again the next time they made a trip up North.
He wandered back over to the desk in the main room and reached for his phone as he settled into the accompanying chair.
He had an hour or so before he needed to meet Ezekiel in the lobby to share a ride over to his in-laws in Harlem. Enough time to call home and check-in before he showered.
"Daddy!"
Rick broke into a broad smile as Maya's elated expression filled his phone screen.
"Hey sweetheart," he greeted her in kind. "What are you doing with your mama's phone?"
"Waiting for you to call," she replied in a sing-song voice. "Look Daddy, Uncle Daryl's helping me with my homework! Isn't he pretty?" she then told him, swiveling the phone around.
Rick snorted at his best friend, comically crouched over in one of Maya's tea set chairs. He sported a tilted tiara on his unruly head, currently struggling to operate child-safe scissors two sizes too small for his adult size hands on a bright yellow piece of construction paper.
"Very pretty indeed," Rick coughed in agreement, barely able to contain his amusement.
Daryl shot him a glare through the screen. "What?"
"Nothing," Rick replied, pressing his lips together as he snuck a screenshot.
Maya swung the phone back around a second later, but Rick had already managed to save the picture for posterity.
"So, did you have a good day, Munchkin?"
Maya nodded, her ponytail bouncing behind her with the movement. "I did, but I miss you."
Her dejected tone produced a pang in his heart, reminding him of the physical distance between them.
"I'll be back home before you know it," he assured her.
"Mommy said the same thing," Maya simpered, her face scrunched into pout.
Rick nods to her. "See. Then, it must be true," he teased and like he expected Maya smiled for him.
He saw a flash of something blue skid past Maya's bedroom door on screen.
"Is that Dad?" he heard RJ ask a half second later, looping back into the screen's frame. "Let me talk to him!"
"No!" Maya protested, hugging the phone to her chest. "Daddy called me!"
"He called Mommy, not you!"
Rick could tell his two youngest were probably struggling to get control over the device but Daryl intervened before it got too far.
"Hey," he said over their bickering, "y'all best not mess up my artwork!"
Rick shook his head, chuckling at the exchange. "Let me talk to your brother, Maya. I promise not to hang up without saying good-bye."
"Okay..." Maya mumbles as she begrudgingly passes the phone over to RJ.
RJ gave his sister a smug look before redirecting his attention to the screen. "Hey Dad," he said as he started out of Maya's room.
"Hey son. How was school?"
"It was okay," he said with a shrug, "the lockers outside of Ms. Olivia's class still smells really bad, though."
Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Are they planning to change your classroom?" .
"We had class in the library today. Ms. Olivia said it should be better by next week," RJ said as he descended the stairs.
Rick frowned slightly at that, but knew it couldn't be helped given what was left to stew inside those lockers. "Other than that, how was your day?"
RJ filled him in on the rest of his highlights as he ventured through the familiar halls of their home, he was the most excited about scoring a touchdown during flag football practice earlier that afternoon.
Ordinarily, Rick would have been there to see it in person, but RJ assured him Daryl recorded the moment for him.
He talked as he walked and eventually wandered into the family room, flopping down on the sofa next to Judith.
"Is that Dad? Let me talk to him," she said, leaning over to pluck the cell phone from her brother's grasp before he could say otherwise. "Hey Daddy. I heard you increased your carbon footprint exponentially today."
Rick snorted at the remark. "Technically, I was just hitching a ride," he returned wryly.
"Excuses, excuses," she said. "It was still pretty boss though."
"It felt pretty boss," he said, still grinning. "How was your day?"
Judith sighed heavily, leaning back onto the sofa. "It's been a day," she bemoaned melodramatically.
Rick chuckled at her. "How's your project coming?"
"Okay, I guess," she shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Ms. Thorne wants me to 'narrow my focus'."
He wisely withheld his amusement at her use of air quotes, and instead nodded dutifully. "Okay. That doesn't sound too unreasonable, does it?"
"Feels like I need to start over," Judith lamented.
He let his eyes wander upward as he tried to think of a way to encourage her. "You said you were doing a day-in-the-life project, right?"
She nodded once.
"Your hand has been glued to a camera from the moment you first held one. You have more pictures and videos of everyday life than anyone I know," he said, thinking back on all the memories they have simply because Judith was always ready to document the moment. "Why don't you revisit some of that footage? You've been telling your story, sweetheart, you just need to pull it together."
Judith's expression was pensive, and for a moment Rick worried he might have said the wrong thing.
"That's...actually not a terrible idea," she murmured, sounding somewhat in awe.
"I tend to have good ones from time to time," Rick replied, laughing a little. Then he noticed his son briefly step into the frame behind her only to quickly back out a heartbeat later. "Carl?"
Rick glanced down at his wristwatch with a frown, knowing it was too early for Carl or Andre to be home from practice.
"Busted," he heard RJ whisper offscreen.
Judith warily glanced back as Carl sheepishly appeared over her shoulder.
"Hey Dad..."
Rick raised an eyebrow. "Was practice canceled or something?"
"Not exactly..."
"I'm gonna leave you two to it," Judith interjected. "Thanks again for your help, Daddy!" she said before passing the phone over to her brother.
Carl sighed heavily, lifting the device to give Rick a full view of his face.
Rick narrowed his gaze at the discoloration around his eye. "What happened?"
"Found out what was going on with Enid," Carl muttered as he meandered out of the family room to head upstairs.
"Say more."
"One second," Carl muttered, making a beeline for his bedroom.
Once inside, he closed the door for privacy.
Rick sat silently, listening as Carl recounted the details of what happened at school. His agitation grew with every new detail.
Carl's description of Ron's behavior bothered him most. It was juxtaposed against Rick's own encounters with the boy, however few and far in between they were. But they were eerily similar to that of his father. The night Rick had confronted Pete in their driveway being the most glaring example.
He brought a hand up to his forehead, massaging his temples.
When Carl was finished, he paused, waiting for his father to say something. "Dad?" he carefully pressed when he didn't.
Rick sighed, dropping his hand. "Is Enid alright?"
Carl nodded. "Yeah, I think so. We've been texting a little. She's not happy about what I did, but at least she's talking to me."
Rick exhaled in relief, nodding once. "Where's your mother?"
"Downstairs."
"I wanna talk to her, but you and me aren't done. We'll talk about this when I get home. Understood?"
Carl nodded dutifully. "Yes sir."
Rick sank further back into his seat as Carl ventured back into the hallway and quickly made his way down into the kitchen.
"Dad's on the phone," he said, handing over it to Michonne.
"Hey baby," she greeted him with a warm smile. "I was wondering when I'd get my turn."
Seeing his wife's face on his screen automatically helped to alleviate Rick's agitation a little.
She posted the phone up on the counter to resume her task of chopping vegetables, and Rick took a beat to just appreciate the sight of her. "Hey, beautiful."
"So, you talked to Carl," she started, glancing over her shoulder at the retreating steps of their son.
"Yeah," he sighed, "and I don't like what I heard."
"I know," she breathed, "he's suspended for a week, but Daryl agreed to take him to D to keep him preoccupied during the day."
"That makes me feel a little better, but it doesn't solve the larger issue," he muttered, scratching his brow.
"No it doesn't," she conceded. "It's a temporary solution until you get home and we can figure out what to do next."
Rick envied her ability to remain calm given the circumstances, especially considering he wanted to punch a wall right now.
"Don't let it get you worked up," she murmured knowingly. "We'll figure it out."
Rick exhaled slowly. "We will."
"How was the flight?" she asked, not-so-subtly changing the subject.
"It was alright," he replied, watching as she lifted the cutting board over a simmering pot to deposit the veggies. "How was your day?"
"It was okay," she sighed, covering the pot with one hand while retrieving her phone with the other, "if not a little more disruptive than I would have liked."
"I'm sorry," he murmured, once again lamenting his absence.
Michonne rolled her eyes with a small smirk as she leaned back against the counter. "It's not your fault. You were thirty-thousand feet in the air."
"Wish I hadn't been," he muttered, scrubbing a hand across his face. "After school practices and homework are one thing, but now Carl's suspended and I'm more worried than ever about the collective sanity of our new neighbors."
"Rick..."
He shook his head, his eyes stern. "That's not hyperbole, Michonne. Something is wrong with that family."
"Yeah," she agreed, exhaling. Her gaze was far away as her expression became contemplative.
"What is it?" he asked.
Michonne glanced back at him, gnawing lightly on her lower lip. "The police were here a little while ago."
"What?" he growled, leaning forward.
"Not here, here," she quickly amended, "but next door, at the Andersons'."
Rick sat up a little, knitting his brows together. "Why?"
Michonne exhaled through her nose. "I'm not sure, but there's something else...Judith made a recording."
Rick tilted his head, confused as to what that had to do with their current conversation.
"She used her old camera to keep tabs on Sam after she found out what he did in school...and she inadvertently caught some disturbing footage."
Rick rolled his eyes upward, afraid of what she might say next. "Not more dead animals, I hope."
She shook her head. "The angle isn't great, a lot of it's obscured by the hedges, but it looked like Pete and Jesse. From what I could see, he was being pretty rough with her."
Rick returned his eyes to her, narrowing them. "And Judith filmed this?"
Michonne nodded. "She gave me the footage today, and now I'm wondering if the two things aren't related. I wanted to talk to Jesse about it, but then everything happened with the boys and I never got the chance."
"Sweetheart," he sighed, not liking the sound of that. "I get that you bad for her, I do too, but-"
"She needs help, Rick," she interrupted, already knowing what he was going to say. "Everything going on is stemming from that household. By helping her, I'd be helping to resolve the overarching problem."
She could tell by his expression that he still wasn't onboard, but her mind was made up.
"I know you don't like it."
"You're right. I don't," he said, flatly.
"But, you know I'm right," she returned, evenly.
"I'm not worried about you being right, Michonne. I'm worried about you being safe," he returned, harsher than he intended.
Michonne arched an incredulous eyebrow. "You think I'm in danger with Jesse?"
"It's not Jesse I'm worried about," he muttered.
"You can't mean Pete," she said, dubiously, "because I know that you know I can take care of myself."
Rick shook his head as his anxiety and exasperation grew. "Whatever is happening next door has been brewing long before they moved in. Long enough for Pete's callousness to trickle down to at least one son, while the other is making desperate cries for help in some seriously fucked up ways."
"That's my point," she insisted, her forehead wrinkling with her own frustration. "They moved here. Right next door to us. If I can do something to diffuse the situation, and keep our kids from getting caught up in any more of their drama, that's what I'm going to do."
Rick dragged his fingers through his hair, realizing the conversation was getting away from them.
The last thing he wanted or needed was for the Andersons' dysfunction to cause a rift in his own marriage.
"I don't want to fight about this," he sighed.
Michonne dropped her shoulders with her own exhale. "Me either."
"I know you can take care of yourself. This isn't about that," he told her. "All I'm saying is that we don't know how bad the situation is over there."
"Which is why I need you to trust me," she said imploringly.
"You know I do," he said empathically.
Michonne gave him a gentle smile. "That's all I ask."
Before he could say anything else, he heard his daughter's voice offscreen as she wandered down into the kitchen.
"Mommy, is Daddy still on the phone?"
"He is," Michonne confirmed with a nod, bending to pick the child up, settling her onto her hip.
"Hi Daddy!" Maya greeted with as much enthusiasm as the first time.
Rick automatically smiled for her. "I told I wouldn't hang up without saying good-bye."
They were forced to switch gears when Maya entered the conversation. And with the charm and innocence only a child could muster, Rick was able to put the happenings next door on the back burner for the time being.
But after another ten minutes, he knew he would have to end the call soon. It couldn't be helped if he were to make it to his in-laws' on time.
Luckily, Michonne must have been keeping up with the time as well. "Okay Munchkin, time to get ready for dinner."
Maya turned to her mother with a pitiful frown. "But-"
"Remember, you promised to be good and listen to your mama," Rick reminded her before she could protest too much.
Maya pressed her lips together, but nodded once. "Okay."
"Go tell your brothers and sister dinner's ready," Michonne instructed, setting her down on the ground.
"Okay. I love you, Daddy!"
"I love you, too, sweetheart."
Michonne waited until the child was out of sight before redirecting her attention back to her husband. "And you need to go get ready, too, don't you? You know how Mama is about being on time."
"Headed to the shower as we speak," he breathed, pushing himself to his feet.
She pressed a kiss to her fingers and lightly blew it into the screen. "You be good out there."
"Yeah, we'll see," he returned, smirking. "I'll call you later. Try to keep your phone on you this time."
Michonne laughed lightly. "I don't know how she got it the last time, but I'll try."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
Carol drummed her fingers impatiently against the arm of her chair, resisting the urge to reach for her phone to check for a status update for the fifth time in just as many minutes.
It was her own anxiety getting the better of her, but that was understandable given the circumstances.
She wasn't sure what she expected to come out of her meeting with Tara Chambler earlier that afternoon, but she certainly didn't expect the young woman to produce key information that would revitalize her near stagnant investigation.
According to Tara, Philip had been very adamant about locating someone just before he paraded himself before news cameras defending his innocence.
A man named Anderson.
Whether that was his first name or last name or a pseudonym in place of something else altogether, didn't matter.
They had a name, which was a hell of a lot more than what they had when the day began.
It was Rosita's idea to search through Atlanta General's staff directory. The hospital kept a public record of its medical staff listed on their website, but it was three surgeons in particular caught their attention:
Anderson Knox, M.D. - Oncology
Ryan Anderson, M.D. - Cardiology
Peter Anderson, M.D. - General Surgeon
With this new information, Carol had tasked Rosita with staying back at the station to do some research on their three new leads, while she headed to Atlanta General to see if Dr. Cloyd could help narrow down their list further.
When she pulled into the hospital's parking garage, she was surprised to find a text from her partner with an update that she had found something worth following up on.
Carol considered calling for more details, but was working on building trust in their relationship and didn't want to appear to be micromanaging.
She was just grateful that Rosita had the wherewithal to take a couple of officers with her as backup.
Still, her fingers itched to send a quick text just to check in. But before she could give in to temptation, Dr. Cloyd bustled through her office door with a stack of folders in hand and an apologetic expression in place.
"I'm sorry about the wait," she said as she settled down behind her desk. "It's been madness around here, which is nothing unusual, but we're short-staffed on top of it."
Carol waved a dismissive hand as she straightened in her seat. "No need to apologize. I'm just glad you were able to make time to see me."
"Of course. It sounded important. The things they're saying in the news...they just seem to get worse by the day. I'd be happy to help resolve this in any way I can."
"There is something you can help me with actually. I need to speak with your staff, specifically Drs. Anderson Knox, Ryan Anderson and Peter Anderson."
Dr. Cloyd blinked, sitting up straighter in her chair. "Oh."
Carol tilted her head at the response. "Will that be a problem?"
Dr. Cloyd sat up a little straighter. "Well Dr. Knox has been volunteering with Doctors Without Borders since the spring, he's not due back in the country for another six weeks," she said, turning to her computer as she typed quickly across the keyboard. "Dr. Ryan is in surgery now, but she should be finishing up soon."
"Ryan is a woman?"
"Yes."
Carol huffed, sitting back in her chair. Dr. Knox being out of the country at the time of the murder automatically ruled him out, and the lack of an extra chromosome eliminated Dr. Ryan.
Her suspect was definitely a male.
"And Peter?"
Dr. Cloyd hesitated, biting down on her lower lip as her fingers flew across the keyboard once more. "That's where things get a little more complicated," she said, eyebrows furrowing in consternation.
Carol frowned. "Complicated how?"
Dr. Cloyd shifted her eyes to her before returning it to the computer screen. "He's been out. According to the rotation schedules, he hasn't been in for a shift all week."
"Did he give any particular reason?" she asked, leaning forward slightly.
The younger woman drummed her fingers against the desk anxiously as she sighed. "He hasn't contacted the hospital, but people on staff have been talking."
When she didn't say anything further Carol pressed her. "Well, don't leave me in suspense."
Dr. Cloyd sighed, her expression dimming with uncertainty. "I don't usually like to engage in staff gossip, but this particular rumor going around was a little hard to ignore," she prefaced, intriguing Carol all the more. "Apparently, there was a disturbing incident involving Dr. Anderson's son at school. I don't know all the details, I sort of checked out at animal mutilation." She shuddered just mentioning the word.
Across from her, Carol could only blink in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"
"I couldn't believe it myself when I heard, but we have some team members on staff who have children that attend the same school. That's when I knew it wasn't just idle gossip."
Carol mentally filed that information away for a deeper dive later.
"So, you believe he's taking personal time to deal with his...family issues?" she asked to clarify.
"I did, until his wife called this morning asking after him. She seemed pretty surprised when I told her he hasn't been here for the last few days."
Carol sat back with that information. If Peter Anderson hasn't been at home or work for the last few days, that was certainly a red flag.
"Can you tell me how long he's been employed here?" she asked, even though she knew hospital policy would prevent Dr. Cloyd from providing too many specifics.
"I wish I could, but my hands are tied without a warrant," the doctor reluctantly replied.
Carol had figured as much, and had already determined she would be back with one as soon as she could get a judge to sign off. "It's in the works. Still figured it was worth a shot."
Dr. Cloyd shifted through the files on her desk, she chanced a glance at Carol when she landed on the one she was looking for. "There is one thing I can tell you. Given the circumstances, I think you should be aware."
Carol cocked her head to the side, waiting for her to continue.
"Dr. Anderson's employment is being subjected to a board review. There are some inconsistencies in his background that are raising some questions."
"Inconsistencies you didn't notice before hiring him?" Carol asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I wasn't a part of his hiring process," Dr. Cloyd admitted, her forehead creased with frustration.
"You're the Chief of Staff. Who's doing the hiring if not you?"
For the first time, Carol saw a flash of agitation flit across the young doctor's typically affable gaze. There was something there and Carol had a feeling it potentially be relevant to her case.
Dr. Cloyd all but confirmed as much with her next words.
"How soon can you come back with a warrant?"
Antoinette Hawthorne bustled around her kitchen like a woman on a mission.
There were pots and pans occupying all four stove top burners, each one simmering with the delectable scents of cashew chicken, joumou soup, and bouyon beef, wafting together taking her right back to her Haitian homeland.
She hummed to herself as she dusted powdered sugar over a batch of freshly made beignets, coating the fried dough to her satisfaction.
With her back turned at the island in the center of the room, her husband took the opportunity to quietly slip inside the kitchen through a side door.
He inched his way over towards the stove as quietly as his six foot three frame would allow and lifted one of the lids. The fragrances were a welcomed assault that made his stomach rumble and his eyes roll close in anticipation.
"Don't you lay a finger on that food unless you want to lose it, Miles," Antionette warned without turning or looking up from her task, her slight accent extenuating the threat.
Miles rolled his eyes but closed the lid nonetheless. "I don't see why I can't have a little bit now. You know I'd still have room left over by the time they get here."
Antionette laughed and nodded in agreement, dusting her hands off on her apron as she turned. "That may be true, cheri, but you're still eating when our guests arrive and not a moment before."
"Rick is not a guest, he's family," he griped, turning to follow her with his eyes as she made her way to the kitchen sink to wash her hands.
"He's bringing a guest. And they're on their way, so you'll just have to wait." She looked at him pointedly as she dried her hands on a cloth resting on the sink, then made her way back over to the stove.
Miles folded his meaty arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter. "Remind who this guest is again."
"His name is Ezekiel, and he's Rick's work colleague. So, you'll be on your best behavior," she said, nudging him out of the way with her hip before bending to retrieve the serving bowls from cabinets he was blocking.
"I'm always on my best behavior," Miles contested, and his wife side eyed him knowingly as she rose.
"Alright then, prove it and go set the table."
"I'll set the table, alright," he returned in a playful tone. "Not only that, I'll even lay out the good china."
Antionette giggled softly under her breath when he leaned down to press a soundly kiss to her cheek before making his way into the adjacent dining room to do just that.
With him out of the way, she was able to move her cooked dishes into serving ware without further distraction.
The doorbell rang just as she pulled the macaroni and cheese casserole dish from the oven.
She quickly removed her apron, tossing it across an island stool before scampering into the hallway to answer it.
"They're here!" she called excitedly over her shoulder, alerting her husband as she went.
She swung open one of the brownstone's double doors, smiling broadly. "There's my favorite son-in-law," she beamed upon seeing Rick on the other side, and promptly stepped out onto the concrete stoop to embrace him in a tight hug.
"You know that doesn't carry as much weight when I'm the only one you've got," Rick grinned as he returned her embrace.
Standing at only five foot two, Antionette barely reached his shoulder, but she enveloped him with a warmth that exceeded her diminutive size.
"It's good to see you, Noni," he said as she cupped his beard in her hands, looking him over before pressing a kiss to both his cheeks in her customary greeting.
Then, he stepped aside to introduce his companion. "I'd like you to meet Ezekiel. Ezekiel, this is my lovely mother-in-law, Antionette Hawthorne."
"Mrs. Hawthorne, the pleasure is all mine," Ezekiel replied with a slight bow and a charming smile as he presented her with a bouquet of blush pink calla lilies.
"I insist you call me Noni," she told him, smiling as she accepted the flowers. She sniffed them appreciatively before tucking them into her arm to greet him in the same fashion. "These are beautiful. How did you know calla lilies were my favorite?"
"I may have had a little help," he admitted, chuckling as he glanced over at Rick.
She followed his eyes and smiled in a way that was so similar to her daughter that their resemblance was undeniable, saved for the crown of solid white downy curls that framed her face.
Antoinette stepped back and pushed open the door behind her.
"Come in, come in," she said, ushering them inside. "Get out of this nighttime air."
The interior of the Hawthorne brownstone was made up of high ceilings, cream walls and dark mahogany paneling decorated with bright and colorful artwork harkened from the Harlem Renaissance. As Antionette led them further inside, family photos spanning across generations were meticulously positioned on the walls and sideboards.
She led them to the living room, where a collaboration of burnt brown leather and plush cream colored furniture were positioned around a grand fireplace.
"You have a lovely home, Noni," Ezekiel said, truly enamored by the combination of modern and historical beauty. The space was put together in such a way that it didn't feel like a mausoleum but rather was a home curated with love and care.
"Why thank you, cheri," she returned, clearly pleased with his assessment. "Michonne won't admit it, but she gets her sense of style from me."
"I can confirm that," Rick replied with a smirk and Antoinette laughed.
She gestured for them to have a seat. "Go on, make yourself comfortable while I go find Miles," she said with a tsk, "Lord knows where that man got to, I told him you were on the way."
"Woman, I'm right here."
Miles' deep baritone reached the room before he did, but it was only a second later that he lumbered into the room with his arms folded over his broad chest. "I don't see no need to rush, it's not like he got my baby girl with him."
Rick huffed, dropping his head a little in chagrin as he approached the taller man. "I told her you would say that."
"Yeah, well you told her right." Even as Miles spoke the words he grinned and clasped Rick's hand, pulling him in for a familiar embrace. "It's good to see you, Rick."
"You, too, Miles," Rick returned, smirking.
Antionette smiled fondly at the pair of them, then looked down at the bouquet resting in her arms. "Make yourselves at home while I go put these in water," she said. "Dinner will be served in just a minute."
"It smells delicious," Rick complimented. His appetite kicked into overdrive the moment he crossed the threshold.
Antoinette patted his cheek affectionately as she passed, heading back towards the kitchen further down the hall.
"Miles, let me introduce you to my business partner, Ezekiel King," Rick started, gesturing towards the only unfamiliar face in the room. "Ezekiel, this is my father-in-law, the Honorable Miles Hawthrone."
Ezekiel approached them, extending his hand. "Thank you for having me, Your Honor."
"No need to be so formal," Miles laughed, shaking his hand. "Call me, Miles," he said, gesturing for them to take a seat as he sank down on his leather recliner. "I hear you two are working on something pretty big down there in Georgia."
Ezekiel exchanged a glance with Rick and smiled proudly. "It'll be the largest green building project in the state."
Miles nodded his close shaven salt and pepper head, impressed. "When are you planning to break ground? Sounds like something we should make the trip down to see."
"If all goes well tomorrow, we're aiming for just after the new year," Rick inserted. "You and Noni should come, Michonne and the kids would love that."
"Then, its date," Miles agreed, smiling broadly at the prospect of spending time with his daughter and grandchildren. "Speaking of my grand babies, how is everyone?"
"Good," Rick replied, unable to hold back his own smile thinking of his children, "Maya loves going to school with the big kids now. And Judith is working on a new project for her film class, I'm sure she'll be sending you a copy once it's finished."
"I'll look forward to it," Miles said, eyes crinkling with his smile. "And how are my boys doing? I know football season is their favorite time of year."
"Yeah, they're in full swing," Rick replied, chuckling. "RJ is having a blast with flag football. Dre made the starting line up for the JV team, and Carl was nominated team captain for the varsity team." Rick purposefully left out the fact that the last part might not be true anymore.
"Hot damn!" Miles proclaimed proudly as he looked to Ezekiel. "And what about you? Any children of your own?"
Ezekiel shook his head once. "My wife has a daughter from her previous marriage that I treat like my own, though. Sofia. She's in her freshman year at UGA now."
"You must be very proud," Miles said sincerely, then nodded to his son-in-law. "As Rick well knows, blended families are every bit of every bit of a blessing as traditional ones."
Ezekiel nodded in agreement. "You'll get no arguments from me on that."
"Not that I blame you for keeping it at one," Miles added with a laugh, "we discovered quickly that was more than enough for us."
Ezekiel grinned at that and his gaze wandered to the fireplace just behind Miles, or more specifically the array of trophies, ribbons, and awards meticulously situated on its mantle.
"That's impressive."
Rick followed his gaze and exhaled a soft laugh. "Michonne likes to call that her Wall of Overachievement."
Miles laughed out loud at the sentiment. "Well, I call it bragging rights."
Ezekiel's eyes widened slightly as he stood to get a closer look. "Michonne won all of these?"
"She did," Miles confirmed, his pride beaming through his smile.
"Debate team captain, track and field state champion, fencing..." Ezekiel read off the awards in amazement. He glanced back at Rick who only shrugged as he smirked. "Is there anything she didn't excel in?"
"I never could get her to participate in any Jack and Jill pageants," Antoinette inserted dryly, reappearing in the living room archway.
"Although, to be fair, if she had she would have excelled at that, too," Miles added without doubt.
"You would say that," Antoinette replied with a smile that said she agreed with him. "Dinner's ready," she said, returning her attention to the others.
"Finally," Miles breathed, pushing himself to his feet.
"You both go on, Rick and I will be there in a moment," she said, stopping Rick from following the others with a gentle hand on his arm.
"Better hurry up, I'm not waiting long," Miles quipped, gesturing for Ezekiel to follow his lead. "Come on," he said to him, "I'll fix you a drink while we wait."
Antoinette waited until they were both out of the room before redirecting her eyes to meet Rick's curious gaze.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
She bobbed her shoulders as she tilted her head, observing him. "Funny enough. I wanted to ask you the same."
"What do you mean?"
Antoinette walked over to the sofa, taking a seat as she patted the space beside her.
Rick wordlessly followed her instruction, and waited for her to speak first. He prompted her gently when she didn't do so readily. "What is it, Noni?"
"This will sound strange to you, I know," she prefaced, staring down at her hands knitted together in her lap. "I've been trying to keep things to myself. Mostly because I didn't want to needlessly worry anyone."
His eyebrows knitted together, unsure where this was headed. "Worry about what?"
Antoinette lifted her face to search his eyes for a moment, then dropped her gaze again with a soft sigh. "Lately, I've been having these terrible nightmares. I don't remember what they're about as much as I remember how I feel afterward. And every time I wake up my thoughts go immediately to my daughter."
She chanced a glance in Rick's direction. To his credit, he didn't look at her as if she were speaking nonsense, so she pressed on.
"I wasn't sure if I should say something, but when I saw you today I could see something in your eyes that made me wonder if all is well."
Rick hesitated, unsure what to say.
He thought about the Andersons', and how at every turn it seemed his family was being unwittingly dragged in their dysfunction. It gave him a slight headache to think of all the disruption that family has caused in the few short weeks since moving into the neighborhood.
It was a vexing problem, but he was confident that he and Michonne would figure out how to navigate the situation together. He certainly didn't think it was something his mother-in-law should lose sleep over.
"There's a lot going on back home, it's a little more hectic than usual," he eventually admitted, "but it's nothing we can't handle."
Antoinette bit down on her lower lip in contemplation before she inhaled softly. "I just worry that perhaps forces are at work outside of what you know, cheri."
Rick inhaled softly, knowing that she wasn't exactly far off.
"We have new neighbors," he said, exhaling through his nose. "Over the past couple of days they've managed to stir up more than their fair share of trouble."
"The doctor and his family," she murmured, nodding. "Michonne told me about them when we last spoke. She said she was worried about the wife being mistreated."
Rick wasn't surprised that she already had some background, she and Michonne talked on the phone just about every day.
"Yeah," he drawled.
Antoinette looked at him knowingly. "You know how much she wants to help people, especially when she feels they are unable to help themselves."
Rick nodded. A fact he loved and was equally frustrated by about his wife.
"This doctor, do you think he's dangerous?"
He hesitated before saying, "I think he's unpredictable."
Antoinette arched a silver eyebrow. "You know how much I love having you here, but are you certain this was the best time to take a trip so far away from home?"
"I tried to cancel, believe me," he muttered.
"Let me guess, Michonne wouldn't hear of it," she guessed and Rick's pensive expression told her all she needed to know. "She gets that stubbornness from her father."
"I'm flying home tomorrow," he said, deciding to make her privy to his plans. "I've already revised the itinerary with Ezekiel."
He had made his business partner aware of his intentions en route to his in-laws that evening, having already decided to book a flight after his conversation with Michonne earlier.
Antoinette nodded. "I think that's a good idea." She offered him a small smile. "Thank you for listening to me, cheri."
Rick returned the expression as he rose to his feet. "Anytime. Ready to join the others?" he asked, holding his hand out to her.
Antoinette allowed him to help her stand and looped her arm through his, pushing down her concerns with his assurances, praying that fears of her subconsciousness were nothing more than just that.
From a Home Depot parking lot, ten miles from home, Pete watched the live surveillance of his home security feed on his cell phone.
He watched as Jesse trembled under police scrutiny for nearly an hour before they eventually escorted her and their boys out into a waiting cop car.
He found it interesting that the police had managed to identify him but did not use forced entry to gain access to the home. He took that to mean that whatever evidence they had was circumstantial at best.
He didn't doubt they took Jesse and the boys in hopes that one of them would be able to provide something they could use to change that.
Pete chuckled darkly at the thought as he reached for the flask on his dashboard and took a swig.
Ron and Sam knew next to nothing and would likely provide the police with less than that out of sheer stubbornness and fear, respectively.
And the only thing Jesse could confess to was being a part of a three-way conspiracy to have him killed.
It was poetic justice that her omission would be the pin to burst Philip Blake's bubble of hubris.
Denying having anything to do with the murder of a mistress from a decade old affair was one thing. But bribing and conspiring with the wife of the primary suspect in said murder, instead of cooperating with the police, would inevitably make his innocence a little harder to explain.
And having Milton Mamet go down as his proxy was the cherry on top of it all.
The perfect retribution after everything they had done to him.
It also meant his own time was limited.
However, he had no intention of joining the others in a jail cell.
He switched from his home surveillance app to another displaying a digital map with a GPS tracking beacon flashing on the screen. The signal remained in the same location it had been all evening. He went back to the surveillance feed, and this time pulled up the street view.
One of the police cars had stayed behind, likely until a warrant could come through to conduct a full search of the premises.
It was a minor inconvenience, but an inconvenience all the same. He would need to bide his time and wait for the right moment, and he was fine with that. If there was one thing Pete had come to master it was patience for the things he truly wanted.
After all, it had been a while since someone had come along to make him feel the way she did.
She was effortless and unexpected, forbidden in every way, and it only served to make him want her more.
He needed to have her, to add her to his collection.
It had been years since he felt a thrill like this. And he was determined to make the most of it.
He just needed to wait for the right moment.
So for her, he would wait.
Michonne craned her neck from side to side in an attempt to alleviate the growing tension in her shoulders.
The day had been long, but it was finally coming to an end.
After dinner, Daryl had helped clean the kitchen and get the littles ready for bed. She had expected him to leave shortly after that, but he found reasons to linger.
His most recent excuse was watching a movie with the younger kids in the family room.
She prepared the guest room for him, figuring it was only a matter of time before he decided to stay the night altogether.
In the meantime, she took advantage of the peace and quiet to get some work of her own done.
After another hour of reading through unanswered emails and legal briefings, she felt her eyes begin to cross and forced herself to close the laptop.
As she pushed back from the counter to stand, her briefcase slipped from the back of her stool and fell to the floor, spilling its contents out onto the floor.
"Shit," she muttered, kneeling down to push her paperwork back inside.
She paused when she noticed the small SD card that was among them and reached for it with a soft sigh.
Thoughts of Jesse filled her mind, as they had on and off all day.
Michonne knew Rick preferred for her to stay out of whatever was going on, but she stood firm in her belief that helping Jesse was the right thing to do.
For now, she put the SD card back into her briefcase and closed it. She would figure it out eventually, but first she needed to put her children to bed.
She padded into the family room, approaching them from behind.
Maya, who barely left Daryl's side all evening, was curled up in his lap, nodding off against his chest. Poor thing missed her father so much, she clung to her uncle as the next best thing.
Judith was settled on the other end of the sofa while RJ sat cross-legged on the floor in the space between them.
Michonne made her way over to Daryl's side. "Time for bed, little ones."
"Can I stay up until the movie's finished?" RJ bargained, looking up at her.
Beside him, Judith snorted. "If you last that long. I saw your head nodding down there."
"No, I wasn't!" he shot back before swiveling his head back to Michonne. "Please, Mommy?"
Michonne glanced up at the screen, familiar enough with the animation to know they were only about a third of the way through.
"I don't know, RJ, it's getting late," she replied, bending to collect Maya from Daryl.
But even half asleep the child just clutched her little fist tighter onto his shirt to hold onto him.
Michonne pulled back with a huff. "Really, Maya?"
Daryl exhaled his own amusement as he rubbed the child's back, comfortingly. "I can send them up once the movie's finished," he offered.
"Thank you," Michonne replied, giving his shoulder a grateful squeeze. "The guest room is ready for you, too, by the way."
Daryl nodded his thanks and with that she turned to leave them be, more than happy to take a few minutes of extra time to herself.
When she made it to the second floor landing she headed straight for the master suite, but was stopped in her tracks by an overheard statement.
"You should've told me."
It was Andre's voice coming from Carl's bedroom. She slowed her pace.
"I know," Carl replied, "I wanted to, but I didn't know everything I do now."
Andre sighed heavily. "But you knew something was up. You've been in a funk for the last two days, and you tried to play it off as a migraine."
"I knew something was going on with Enid. I guess I just thought I was reading too much into it."
"But you weren't."
"When I saw how she reacted to Ron in the hallway, I knew something happened between them. She was afraid of him, Dre."
"There's a rumor going around at school that he might be expelled."
"That doesn't change the fact that he lives next door."
Deciding she had heard enough, Michonne knocked twice on the door before opening it wider.
Carl was stretched out on his bed while Andre occupied his computer chair, they both looked her way as she leaned against the doorframe.
"Hey," she said, softly. "What are we talking about?"
"Oh, you know, just what life is gonna look like living next door to the Andersons' Little Shop of Horrors," Andre sarcastically replied, turning in the chair to face her.
Carl snorted dryly at the description and Michonne sighed, pushing off the door. Carl automatically shifted his legs to make room for her on the edge of the bed.
"I mean, come on, Ma," Andre pressed, a hint of frustration marring his usually carefree features, "are we really just supposed to ignore everything going on over there?"
Michonne leveled him with a plain look as she sat down. "For now? Yes."
Carl arched an eyebrow, surprised at her response. "Seriously?"
She inhaled softly as nodded. "Look, I know there's a lot of really disturbing things going on right now," she conceded with a nod, "but our primary concern will always be for you and your brother and sisters. So yes, I expect you to do as I say. And when your dad gets back, we'll figure out the best way to handle it together."
Andre shook his head, his hair swinging with the notion. "Yeah, but, whatever happens, they're still gonna live next door."
"You're right," she said, nodding slowly. Then she took the time to look them both in the eye, making sure her point got across. "But no matter what happens, I don't want either of you to be responsible for making it happen. Understand?"
The brothers nodded in slow unison.
"Yes."
"Yes, ma'am."
Carol and Rosita stood on one side of a one-way glass, watching Jesse Anderson fidget nervously inside the interrogation room on the other side.
After speaking with Dr. Cloyd, Carol immediately called her partner to let her know she had identified their suspect as Peter Anderson. Only for Rosita to tell her she was already en route back to the station with his family in tow.
"So," Carol started, "this is the wife?"
Beside her, Rosita nodded. "Jesse."
"She's a timid little thing, isn't she?" Carol noted, watching as Jesse darted her eyes around the room, as if expecting something to jump out at her. "And no lawyer?"
"She hasn't asked for one yet. Figured we could get some answers out of her before she decides to."
Carol nodded, folding her arms over her chest. "You had her in custody before I told you about the husband. What put them on your radar?"
Rosita turned to lean her back against the desk behind her. "Remember when we cut Blake loose, but put a tail on him in case he made any suspicious moves?"
Carol nodded again.
"Well, he rigidly stuck to his campaign schedule, but the officers assigned to him noticed that Mamet was dispatched on a solo errand. They followed him to a residential neighborhood and at first, they didn't think of it, just logged the address in the activity file and kept it moving. When I pulled the DMV records for our list of doctors, guess what address came up as a match."
"Peter Anderson's," Carol concluded, sighing as she returned her gaze to the woman on the other side of the glass.
"Bingo."
"And you think she knows something?"
Rosita eyed the woman through the one-way glass and sighed. "I dunno. But I'm gonna find out."
"You take the lead on this," Carol said, tipping her head towards the glass. "She's nervous enough as is without the good cop/bad cop routine."
Rosita arched a skeptical eyebrow. "You sure?"
"She's all yours," Carol replied, "I trust you to get the job done."
A small smirk lifted the corner of Rosita's lips as she turned on her heels to begin her interrogation.
Carol looked on from the listening room to observe.
Just as Rosita entered the room and reintroduced herself to Jesse, the door to the listening room reopened.
"Occupied," Carol said without turning to see who it was.
"I'm aware."
She recognized the deep baritone belonging to her captain, and looked over her shoulder at him.
"Captain Mercer," she coolly replied, tuning down the interrogation room volume. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," Mercer said as he approached.
Carol folded her arms over her chest, cocking her head to the side as she assessed him. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."
"No, you didn't," he sighed, "but as for your person of interest..."
She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "I didn't know about the press conference until after Blake announced it. It was a desperate attempt to save his campaign, but I can't control what he does one way or the other."
"I know," Mercer said with a nod. "Doesn't change the fact that I've been fielding calls from the mayor's office and the press all day."
Carol stifled a sigh.
She liked Mercer, one of things she liked best was his ability to not micromanage. Because of her proven track record and tenure at the department, he usually left her to own devices, trusting in her ability to get the job done.
But she also recognized that this was a high profile case, and unfortunately that meant a change in their usual modus operandi.
"I get the feeling I'm not going to like where this is headed," she dryly remarked.
"It's an election year, Peletier, and right now the optics of this case are taking over the libs," he explained, though his expression appeared just as agitated as she felt, making her feel a little better but not by much.
"With all due respect, Captain, my investigation isn't contingent on the libs," she told him.
"Be that as it may, the mayor would still like for us to get ahead of it."
"Get ahead of it, how?" she dared to ask.
"With a press conference of our own. Tomorrow."
Carol raised a dubious eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
A press conference meant sharing the details of the investigation with the public, including identifying their suspect. The action would undoubtedly cause a flood into their call center from every Tom, Dick, and Harry with a half-cocked theory.
The case had already turned into a media frenzy, announcing their suspect on live television before they even had him in custody was the equivalent of dosing gasoline on a wildfire at this point.
"No," Mercer said to her surprise, then he sighed heavily, "but I was outranked."
"We've identified our suspect, but he's at large. Blasting his name and face over the airways will only serve to let him know we're on to him, and in doing so we lose the only leverage we have," she said, attempting to reason with logic.
Mercer glanced over at the interrogation in progress through the one-way glass. "Not the only leverage," he said, turning up the room's speakers for them to listen in.
"I didn't know he left until my son told me this morning," Jesse sniffled.
Her eyes were glued to her table in front of her as she bounced her leg with a restlessness that could not be helped.
"Which son?" Rosita asked, careful to keep her tone even sensing the woman was on edge.
"My youngest, Sam."
Rosita made a quick note of that, then tilted her head in an attempt to catch her gaze. "And when was the last time you saw your husband?"
Jesse lifted her watery gaze only to drop it again a heartbeat later. "Monday or Tuesday, I can't really remember."
Rosita knitted her eyebrows together dubiously. "You don't remember the last time you saw him?"
Jesse shrugged, prying her fingers apart to shakily run them through her hair. "He's always worked crazy hours. It's not unusual to not see him for a few days," she explained, then hesitated before saying, "but...I needed help with the boys. That's why I called the hospital looking for him."
"And when you found out he wasn't there, did you check anywhere else? Family? Friends?"
Jesse huffed a mirthless little laugh. "Pete's not close with his family, and he doesn't have friends. None that he would bother to tell me about anyway."
Rosita opened the manila folder in front of her and sifted through until she found a press photo of Milton Mamet. She slid the picture over to Jesse.
"What about him? Is this one of Pete's friends?"
Jesse visibly stiffened at the photograph, gnawing down on her lower lip.
"Do you know this man, Jesse?" Rosita pressed.
Numbly, she nodded. "Yes."
"How do you know him?"
Jesse looked up at her, a hurricane's worth of emotions brewing behind her hazel eyes. "He said that Pete used to work for his boss."
Rosita chanced a quick glance over her shoulder, then turned back to her. "What else did he say?"
Jesse forced herself to take a breath as she pushed the photograph away from her. "I..I agreed to come here because of my boys..." she trailed off, swiping at her nose as she sniffled again, "I don't want their father to define who they are or what they become. When they find out what he's done..." she trailed off, half choking on a sob.
Rosita tilted her head, her interest piqued. She had purposefully withheld information about the charges in favor of establishing exactly how much Jesse knew and when she knew it.
"What is it you think he's done?" she pressed carefully.
"Mr. Mamet said Pete was the one responsible for what happened to that woman," Jesse said in a weak voice as if she struggled to voice the words aloud.
"When he told you that, why didn't you call the police?"
Jesse drew in her lower lip nervously as she dropped her gaze. "I didn't want to believe him. He was accusing my husband of horrible things. It didn't make sense."
"So you just sent him away?"
"At first," she confirmed, nodding. "He and Pete seemed to have a really contentious relationship, and I thought that he was just badmouthing him. But when I tried to talk to Pete about it, he became so agitated."
"Was he ever violent?"
Jesse wiped a tear before it could fall. "Not all the time, but sometimes when he gets really mad."
Rosita withheld a sigh, unable to not feel for the woman sitting across from her.
"Mr. Mamet said that Pete was a danger to me and our boys," Jesse continued softly, "that we would go down with him unless..."
"Unless what, Jesse?"
Jesse let her eyes roll upward to stop the tears from bubbling over. "He said if I helped with Pete that his boss would help us in return."
Both her eyes and voice were distant as she spoke. She brought her trembling hands together to rest on the table, exhaling as she willed her fingers to still themselves to no avail.
"But I think Pete found out somehow, because he didn't come home after that," she murmured, eyes squinting with the recollection.
Rosita furrowed her eyebrows together as she leaned forward a little. "Are you saying this man contracted you to kill your husband?"
Jesse flinched at the accusation. "He said he would be better for everyone if Pete was gone."
"How?"
"I don't know, I didn't ask. He told me to contact him when Pete was home and he would take care of the rest. But that never happened."
Rosita made a note of that piece of information. "Do you have any idea where Pete could be now?"
"No," Jesse whimpered, shaking her head. "I would tell you if I did."
For some reason, Rosita believed she would. She pushed back from the table and stood. "I'll be back," she told her, leaving the room to rejoin her partner.
"Good work, Espinosa," Captain Mercer told her as she reentered the listening room.
"Looks like you were right about Blake wanting to handle the situation himself," Carol added, smirking at her. "And now we know he intentionally obstructed the investigation to do so."
"Since they seem to like the cameras so much, I want both Blake and Mamet brought in for processing tonight," Captain Mercer advised as he headed towards the door. "Have their mugshots ready for tomorrow."
"What's happening tomorrow?" Rosita asked once the captain had left the room.
"Press conference," Carol told her. "Mayor's orders."
Rosita arched an eyebrow at that but didn't comment further as she looked back at Jesse through the one-way glass. Carol leaned back against the panel, following her partner's gaze over her shoulder.
"You good?" she asked, glancing sideways at her.
Rosita shook her head, folding her arms over her chest. "She's almost as much of a victim here. I guess I just feel for her."
Carol was sympathetic to the woman's plight as well, but had decided to compartmentalize those emotions for another day. They had more important things to address at the moment.
She put a hand on her shoulder, dipping her head to catch her gaze. "Let's get these warrants approved so we can put this whole nightmare behind us. For everyone's sake."