It was late by the time they crossed the line into Florida.
Carol stared out the window at the spindly, towering pine trees that seemed to be closing ranks around the dark, two-lane highway as they approached Lake Butler. It wasn't a welcoming place.
From what she could tell, the town had only had one traffic light. The "downtown" area consisted of nothing more than a convenience store, a bar, a church, and a rundown old motel.
The motel, clearly built in the fifties before the interstate sucked up all the tourists heading for the beaches, had a "Vacancy" sign out front but it wasn't flashing. Carol was surprised to see that the small parking lot was nearly full.
Merle went in to check things out while she waited in the car with Daryl.
"Clerk said he ain't seen no little girls or anybody that looks like Ed," Merle reported when he returned, leaning against the doorframe.
She sighed as another flicker of hope was extinguished.
"Well?" Daryl pressed him. "Did you get the rooms?"
"Room, little brother. Singular."
Carol stared at him blankly.
"Turns out there's a race out here this weekend. Dirt track," he explained, smirking when he met her eyes over the seat. "The man only had one room left."
And what a room it was - dingy carpet, an old black and white television, and two double beds.
Merle flopped down on one of them, seemingly unfazed by the mysterious stains on the comforter, while she and Daryl hesitated in the doorway, bags in hand.
"Go ahead," he nodded towards the other bed. "I'll just sleep in the car."
She felt suddenly, strangely sick at the thought of that. "Can't you just share with Merle?"
"I look like some kind of prancing fairy to you?" Merle snapped, lighting a cigarette. "His ass can sleep on the floor."
She looked doubtfully at the small bed. "I guess we could share?"
He shook his head. "No, it ain't no big deal. I'll be fine outside."
He reached for the door and she grabbed his wrist. "Don't."
He looked surprised. Her eyes flickered towards Merle who was seemingly oblivious to their conversation, sat proudly on his claimed bed flicking through the precious few television channels.
It wasn't that she was afraid of Merle. He was rough around the edges, uncouth and uncivilized, but she didn't think he would do something terrible to her if they were alone in a room together overnight.
But still, she held fast to Daryl's arm. "It's too hot to sleep out there. I'll make something up for you on the floor."
He studied her face for a moment and then nodded. "Alright then."
She squeezed his arm, grateful, and set her bags down on the floor.
"We should hit that bar tonight," Merle told them, leaning back on his elbows to watch Carol gather up the shoddy comforter.
She shot him a look of disgust over her shoulder and he snorted, "Jump off my dick, woman. Those are his kind of people. If he's around here, they'll know."
"Why would they tell us anything?"
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that," he winked. "Just leave it up to ol' Merle."
A charming hand-painted sign out front told them that the bar was called The Hideaway and that bikers were welcome.
Inside it was dark and smoky as one might expect. The floor was uneven and Carol stumbled more than once, wondering how anyone could possibly navigate it after a long night of drinking.
The place was strangely empty for a Friday night. She only saw a few couples scattered at the tables and a couple of drunks hanging onto the bar.
Daryl made a beeline for the bathroom while Carol followed Merle over to talk to the bartender.
The man eyed him warily, wiping his hands on the towel hanging from his waist.
"Double Maker's," Merle told him and Carol jammed her elbow into his ribs. He cursed under his breath and added, "You know, I been looking for my buddy Ed Peletier. You seen him around here lately?"
"Nope," the bartender answered, turning to grab the bottle off the shelf.
"Man of few words," Merle muttered. He threw his arm over Carol's shoulders and leaned down to whisper in her ear, too close for comfort, "Remind me, sugar, what was his woman's name?"
"Brenda," she told him, turning her face away from his. "Brenda Coats."
"How 'bout Brenda Coats?" Merle spoke up. "You seen her around?"
The bartender's eyes shot to a man sitting a little ways down the bar and the man turned on his stool, propping one elbow up on the bar as he fixed them a cock-eyed glare.
The man had thinning red hair and a scruffy red beard. He wasn't very tall but he was built like a barrel and had the darkest, meanest eyes Carol had ever seen.
"Who's asking about Brenda?"
Merle downed his shot and motioned for another. A shit-eating grin was already working its way across his face. "I'm asking."
The man stood. "What you want with her?"
Merle looked like he was ready to play but Carol wriggled out from under his arm, stopping the scene cold.
"I'm Carol," she told the man, offering him her hand. "I'm really the one looking for her. I need Brenda's help finding my little girl."
"Stevie," he told her, narrowing his eyes as he wrapped her hand up in a bone-crushing grip. "What's Brenda got to do with your kid?"
"If it's the same Brenda, she knows my daughter's father," Carol answered, unsure of how much to give away. She didn't want this man angry, either at her or the mysterious Brenda. "We just want to ask her if she has any idea where he might be. He took off with my daughter a few days ago and I'm trying to get her back."
He stared at her, unblinking, and she got the feeling he didn't miss a thing.
Behind Stevie, she saw Daryl emerge from the bathroom. She knew the moment he noticed the tension in the air by the way he slowed, his shoulders stiffening as he gauged the situation. He stopped next to Carol, standing closer to her than usual as he sized the man up.
Carol sighed. They were like a bunch of wild dogs, posturing and circling.
Stevie sat down on his stool and picked up his drink, seemingly unbothered by the Dixons. That sent a cold shiver rolling down Carol's spine.
He tipped back his beer. "Well, good luck finding her. She took off for her mama's house a couple of days ago. Couldn't even tell me herself. Just left a note on the kitchen counter."
"Where's her mama's house?" Carol asked, exchanging a look with Daryl.
Stevie looked at her with something in his dark eyes that she thought might be sympathy. "Memphis."
"Memphis?" she repeated, hoping she'd heard him wrong.
Stevie just nodded and drained his glass. Her legs gave out on her and she sat down hard on the nearest stool, burying her face in her hands.
"A couple of days ago, huh?" Merle asked, tapping his fingers on the bar. "That'd be right around the time the kid went missing, right?"
"Maybe she was meeting Ed in Memphis," Daryl cut in, obviously following Merle's line of thinking.
"Hell, I wouldn't doubt it," Stevie muttered. "Always reckoned she was still hung up on that bastard."
Merle downed his second shot like it was water. "You got an address or a phone number for her mama?"
"Might. Don't know it right off the top of my head."
Carol took a deep, shuddering breath, jamming the heels of her palms into her eyes to stop the hot, wet stinging. Daryl squeezed her shoulder and she leaned into his touch, feeling like she might just break down in the middle of this stupid bar.
When she finally lifted her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears, Stevie grimaced.
"Got a pen?"
Memphis.
Daryl said it was about an eleven hour drive but it might as well have been all the way across the world.
Only two days had passed since Sophia disappeared but it felt like she'd been drowning in this anguish for weeks. She was beginning to wonder if there could even be an end to this nightmare.
The little room was quiet. She could hear the faint hum of the occasional car passing on the highway mingling with the soft sounds of Merle snoring. Daryl was still and silent on the floor between the beds and she figured he must be asleep.
She wished desperately that she was sleeping too. It was almost painful how much she didn't want to be here.
She rolled over on the stiff sheets and stared up at a crack in the ceiling without really seeing it. Her brain wouldn't slow down enough to sleep. Not when her daughter was still out there, scared and probably hungry. She didn't know her father, if one could even call him that.
Sophia was probably crying for her right now. She wouldn't understand why her mother wasn't there.
Her throat tightened as a familiar burn started up behind her eyes. She rolled over, burying her face into the pillow as the waves of pain washed over her. She rode them out as best she could, clutching at the pillowcase and trying to muffle her crying.
She heard Daryl shifting around on the floor and held her breath for a moment, hoping he was still asleep.
He cleared his throat, "You okay?"
She didn't reply. It was a stupid question.
Seconds ticked by with only Merle's snoring to mark their passing.
"Do you think we'll ever find her?" she asked softly, her words muffled by the pillow.
"That what you're crying about?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
She nodded even though she knew he couldn't see her. Of course that was what she was crying about – another stupid question. But she couldn't blame Daryl for not knowing how to handle her. She didn't know how to handle herself either and he was doing a pretty good job, considering.
He heaved a sigh and sat up, kneeling by the bed. She shifted to face him and could just make out his silhouette by the blue moonlight filtering in the through the blinds. His hair was sticking up in a dozen different directions, like he'd stuck his finger in a light socket, and she knew it was because he'd been running his hands through it.
"Ain't no need for all that crying," he mumbled and she felt the mattress shift as he leaned on the edge of it. His voice was firm, "We've only been looking for a day. You gotta give it time."
She nodded. "I know. I know that, I'm just so scared that – "
She felt his hand land on her knee, warm through the cotton sheets. "What? What are you scared of?"
She sniffled and he reached out to wipe away her tears, his fingers stopping short as if he only realized at the last second what he was about to do.
She caught his hand and rested it against her face, pressing her cheek into his warm touch. He sucked in a sharp breath.
"I'm scared I'm never going to see her again," she confessed in a strained voice, her fingers tightening around his.
"We're gonna find her," he told her firmly, his thumb slowly, gently stroking her skin. "We're gonna find her and we're gonna take care of her and she's gonna be just fine."
There were a million things she wanted to say but all that came out was, "You promise?"
He nodded once. "Promise."