Hi everyone! So, Chapter 4. I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying writing this story. I have an ending in mind but I'm taking each chapter as it comes. The best part for me is definitely the growing trust and friendship between Beth and Daryl. I hope you're enjoying that too. Thank you so much for all the reviews, faves and follows, they're just the best.

...

June 22

Dear Daryl,

You're so sweet to care about Maggie and respect her privacy. Thank you, it means so much to me. It hasn't been easy doing this all by myself but I don't feel like I am by myself any more as I've got you.

I think you're right about Maggie's boyfriend being a married man, and older too. I reread the entry after I read your letter and all that stuff about him being mature and knowing things just sounds like he's older. Also it sounds like he lives in the town, so that's three clues: married, older, and local. We've only got a few hundred people in this town but how many people would that include? A few dozen I suppose. Less if you only count the handsome ones. She doesn't say he's handsome but I guess he would be? Looks are so subjective, though. To be safe I won't discount anyone based on looks, but I'll rule out anyone over fifty. Unless we have George Clooney living in this town and I haven't noticed! And anyone under thirty.

Yesterday I went into town and just walked around, trying to start a list of suspects. Patrick Yates owns the feed store and he's married and about forty, but Maggie said he walked past her at the feed store so that doesn't sound right. Then there's the man who owns the cinema, the man who owns the adjacent property to us on the east side, the man who breeds prize sheep on Willow Farm, the owner of Henry's bar … I spent hours walking around looking for wedding rings and looking at faces. I just can't picture Maggie with any of these men, but he has to be around somewhere, doesn't he? Unless he disappeared with Maggie, too, but the cops would have found that suspicious and mentioned it, wouldn't they?

I'm reading the diary for more clues but nothing's jumping out at me yet. She writes a lot of daydreams and angsty stuff so there's a lot to get through.

Daryl, we've been writing to each other for a month and a half almost and it feels strange that I've never actually met you. I looked up the prison and it's just over an hour's drive away, which isn't far. Could I please come and visit you? I would just like to say hello, and thank you, and I'd like to bring a map of the woods with me as well if that's all right. You probably know them better than me and could point out the interesting features.

From,

Beth

…

Daryl put down the letter and sat back on the chair with a long, heavy sigh, his eyebrows raised. She wanted to meet. He was in the common room and one of his block-mates looked over, saw the expression on Daryl's face, noticed the letter, and grinned.

'Girl trouble, bro?'

Mick was an all right sort. He was in prison for armed robbery, so all right as armed robbers go. His most prominent feature were his big, bushy sideburns that he tended to with a special comb.

'No. Sort of.'

Mick waited, sensing a good story.

Daryl hadn't told anyone at the prison about Beth and he wasn't about to, not in detail. But he liked Mick and something made him say, 'Friend of a friend I'm helping out with somethin'. Never met her but she wants to come in an meet me. Say thank you or whatever.'

'She pretty?'

Daryl nodded. 'Real pretty.'

'Hey, hey,' Mick said, eyes lighting up. 'Get that girl in here. You never know your luck.'

Daryl was indignant. 'There's nothin' like that. She's younger than me.' She might even have a boyfriend. She'd never mentioned one but it wasn't like it was any of his business. Though if she had a boyfriend and he'd left her all alone to struggle with Maggie's disappearance then he didn't deserve a girl like Beth.

'So? You're a handsome motherfucker. Girl'll go crazy over those cheekbones of yours and that cigarettes-and-whisky voice. Show off those guns, too. Make her get moist.'

'Don't fuckin' talk about her like that. She's been through enough shit. I'm trying to help her, not fuck her.' Not that he could if he wanted to in this place.

Mick laughed, holding both palms up in a gesture of surrender. 'Sure bro, I respect you. But seriously, what are you going to do?'

Daryl rubbed his hand back and forth on the top of his head, ruffling his hair. 'Fucked if I know.'

Mick nodded shrewdly. 'But you want her to visit, don't you?'

Daryl shoved his letter in his pocket and headed for his cell. 'Go fuck yourself, Mick.'

'Love you too, bro.'

.

June 24

Beth,

I put you on my visitation list, but don't feel like you're obligated or anything.

Daryl

…

It was the shortest letter he'd ever sent her but it was one of the best. Beth wanted to meet this stranger who'd been so understanding and helpful about Maggie and he'd said yes, more or less. She barely knew anything about him and had a hundred questions for him, but even once she was face-to-face with him she knew she couldn't just ask them. From his letters he seemed like a very private person and she'd respect that.

With butterflies in her stomach she looked up the prison on the internet and dialled the visitation line. Why she should have butterflies in her stomach she didn't know.

'Hello? Yes, I'd like to visit a prisoner this Saturday. Mr Daryl Dixon.'

…

Saturday morning was warm and sunny. Beth chewed her lip, looking at the outfits spread out on her bed. Nothing seemed right: too provocative, too baggy, too formal. She wanted to project just the right image, which was friendly, grateful, and respectable. She wanted to look like someone he could confide in, because even though this was about finding Maggie she'd grown fond of Daryl. There was a real person behind those letters and she wanted to know who that person was.

In the end she chose a knee-length sun dress with a sweetheart neckline, a denim jacket and a pair of flat sandals. Her visit was at two pm and she left home at midday to allow plenty of time in case she got lost. The butterflies stayed with her as she swung out onto the highway and neared the prison. She was excited by the prospect of meeting Daryl.

Driving through the prison gates was like a dash of cold water. The place was grim and foreboding and surrounded by fences and razor wire. There were loudspeakers fixed up all over the place and guards with guns and dogs. Suddenly it all became real: Daryl was in prison. He'd done something bad, possibly violent. He might scare her, or swear at her, or do something perverted like ask her to give him her underwear.

Beth took a deep breath. No, he wouldn't. This was Daryl. He was respectful. Thoughtful. Just because he was in prison didn't make him a monster.

She parked, collected her satchel and letter of authorisation to visit and headed for the entrance.

…

'Dixon! Visitor.'

Daryl was in the prison yard and looked up at the sound of his name. So she'd come. Suddenly his hands felt clammy and he wiped them on his hips. It was a hot day and he'd taken off the top part of his orange jumpsuit and tied the sleeves round his waist. He untied the sleeves and shrugged the jumpsuit on properly over his white t-shirt. He wasn't going to meet Beth looking like some sort of thug who wanted to show off his muscles.

The visiting room was just a few minutes' walk from the yard. He knew where he was even though he'd never been in there before. It was empty of visitors so far and he slid into one of a pair of chairs at a table like the other inmates, and he waited.

…

Beth followed a dozen other women as they filed into the visitation room. A couple of them wore short skirts and heels. Others wore jeans and carried babies. When she got just inside the door she saw a sea of orange jumpsuits, and faltered. She'd forgotten she had no idea what Daryl looked like.

She turned to the warder who was standing by the door, his hands clasped in front of him. 'Excuse me. I have actually never met the prisoner I'm visiting. We've been writing so I don't know what he looks like. His name is Daryl Dixon. Would you be able to point him out to me please?'

The guard rolled his eyes. 'One of those, are you? Dixon's over there.'

…

Daryl saw her as soon as she came into the room. God she was pretty. Too fuckin' pretty for this place. To pretty to be visiting him. A dozen pairs of female-starved eyes followed her as she made his way toward him, a nervous smile on her lips. Admiring voices chimed in.

'Dixon, my man.'

'Nice goin', bro. Been keeping this quiet.'

Daryl glared at the inmates who'd spoken and they shut up.

He stood up when she got to his table, not knowing what to do with his hands. Handshake? Wave? In the end he did nothing. 'Hey.'

She smiled, a proper smile this time, and his heart felt tight in his chest.

'Hi, Daryl.'

...

I listened to your comments about Beth and Daryl meeting and here you go! How do you think it's going to go?