Taken

"Honestly, I'm not surprised," Betty said. "It was just a matter of time until he figured out we were onto him."

"Or he could only know we're the children of some of the people involved with Goldhead. We better call Kevin and Eric, too. They aren't safe either."

"We've got to tell Carol and our folks. Warn everyone. Where's your dad, by the way?" Jughead asked.

"Out of state on a business trip. He wasn't one of the seven, so I'm not worried about him." Betty glanced over her shoulder to the darkened hallway. "I wonder how long Johnny has been watching us."

The thought of someone spying on them, especially Betty, enraged him. He didn't like the idea of some creep watching her, and worse he didn't like that he'd ever left her unprotected. He took a picture of the photo of the four of them, and turned the board around the way they'd found it. He didn't want Johnny to know they'd been here, especially if he was going to target them now because they were the children of the seven. He didn't want to give Johnny even more reasons to go after them. He photographed the entire murder board, and stopped when he came to the picture of a dead Cliff Blossom.

"You think he murdered Cliff, too?" Betty asked noticing he was fixating on that picture.

"He had to have. I always thought Cliff's death was fishy. I read in the police report that Penelope and Cheryl calmly directed the police to Cliff's body hanging in the maple syrup cellor. One of the cops recorded how eerily tranquil the two women were. You know Cheryl. She's dramatic over everything. If she knew her father was hanging himself, she would have gone ballistic. And Penelope Blossom isn't known for her cool head either. I never believed that Cliff killed himself, even with the truth out that he murdered Jason. Cliff doesn't seem like it suicidal type."

"Snake said that Cliff Blossom got his start in the drug business at Goldhead. None of our parents knew about it, but Johnny must have been involved, way back then, too, and I bet you now that he's been in the drug business this whole time. He has to be the one who's been selling on the Southside!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers.

Jughead jestered around the clean, but sparsely furnished bedroom. "And why would a drug dealer with all his drug money, live here at Sunnyside Estates with all us other poor miscreants?"

She shrugged. "Maybe Cliff Blossom tricked him into not getting the cut of the profits he deserved. That's motive to kill Mr. Blossom. And you saw the picture of Cliff, Johnny, and Michael James in the hall. Maybe Michael James screwed him over, too."

"Then why would Johnny be trying to avenge Michael James's death twenty-five years later?" Jughead asked. "If he hates Michael James like he hated Cliff Blossom, then he'd be glad the seven teens from Goldhead burned him alive."

"I don't know," she said. "But I'm going to call Carol and have her send some trusted officers out here to catalogue the evidence we found. With the pictures of Johnny and the other stuff that we found, they'll have enough cause to arrest him. If they can find him." She thought for a moment. "Where do you think he is?"

He started to answer, but was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.

"Dad?" Jughead said when he answered his phone and heard a familiar, deep voice. "Thank God you called. We know who shot Fred and who is after everyone."

"Johnny?" FP said, like he'd always known the answer. "And I know why Fred got shot." Jughead sat on Johnny's couch, and Betty followed suit, taking a moment to text Carol what they'd found and that they needed an officer to come out and take a look.

"With the twenty-five year anniversary of Michael John's death, Fred was getting antsy," FP said. "He might have been unconscious when we burned down that cabin, but he knew just like the rest of us. And like always, even though his conscience told him otherwise, he kept the secret, to keep me safe and out of trouble. Fred Andrews is a good man and didn't deserve what he got. A week ago, he went to Sheriff Keller and wanted to fill out a police report about what happened at Goldhead. He figured since I was already locked away, I'd be safe. But Keller refused, saying some bullshit about the statute of limitations being reached. He just didn't want to get his own lily white ass in trouble. Re-election is coming up, and the good people of Riverdale would vote him out if they knew he'd been an accessory to murder."

"Where are you?" Jughead asked. "We'll come get you. Keep you safe."

"I can't tell you, son."

"Why not?" Jughead asked. "I want to see for myself that you're okay." His eyes misted with tear.

"I'm okay, Jug. I want to see you, too. It kills me that you and Betty are dealing with this and I'm not there to protect you kids, but I have to stay put. If I run, I'll have a longer sentence, and-" He stopped speaking, and even through the phone Betty could hear FP Jones, feared leader of the Serpents, quietly crying. "And I can't take that chance. I've got to get back to you. I want to be there on your graduation day. I want to see you walk Betty down the aisle. I want to rock your babies to sleep like I used to do to you. So I have to sit tight, do what I'm told, and by the grace of God, I'll be let out soon on good behavior."

Jughead cupped his hand over his mouth, trying to stop the sob. After a moment, he used the back of the sleeve of his leather jacket to wipe his face clean. "Stay safe. Betty and I are going to do everything we can to get you out."

"Oh, I know you will. You and your smart girlfriend are going to save my life." In the distance, there was a commotion on the other end of the phone, men yelling, something heavy hitting the ground. "I've got to go," FP said.

"What was that? Are you okay."

"I'm fine," he replied. "Nothing to worry about."

"I miss you, Dad," Jughead said.

"Miss you, too." And then he hung up.

Betty reached for him, and Jughead collapsed onto her, laying his head into her lap. She removed his cap and ran her fingers through his hair. He angled himself into her, his face against her belly, breathed in the sweet scent that was solely Betty. His arms tightened around her waist, his fingers clutching at the soft wool of her sweater.

"I know he's not a good man," Jughead said. "But he's my dad and I love him. I want him back."

She leaned over him and kissed his temple. "We'll get him back, Juggie, and he is a good man. A man that loves his son and is proud of him." She brushed his hair out of his eyes as he turned his face up to look at her.

He reached up, curled his hand around the back of her neck and drew her down so that his mouth could brush against hers. His tongue slipped in between her lips as his other hand brushed underneath the hem of her sweater so he could palm her breast.

"Jug," she whispered. "Maybe hooking up on a crazy murderer's couch isn't the best idea."

He chuckled as he removed his hand from her sweater. "I guess you're right." He sat up and got to his feet, pulled her up, too. "You're just so hot that sometimes I'd risk death just to get into your pants."

She kissed his cheek, and he clutched her hand, and they left Johnny's trailer, took the short drive to FP's place, and parked his bike. He let Betty in and locked and bolted the door behind them. Hot Dog was asleep on the couch, looked up at him briefly, and went back to snoring. Jughead shouldered off his jacket, helped Betty off with hers, and hung both in the closet.

"I'm going to call my mom," Betty said. "Maybe we should call everyone."

"And tell them what?" he asked. "They already know that they should be onguard."

"At least we know now who's behind this," she said. "We can at least tell them who to look out for."

As Betty stepped away to make her calls, Jughead fed Hot Dog, and the sound of dog kibble clinking into his bowl was enough to rouse him. Jughead pet his dog, ruffling his white fur. "You're a good boy." He crouched down and smiled as Hot Dog licked his hand. He and Jelly Bean had both begged and begged for a pet, and now that he finally had one, he wished his sister was here with him to enjoy it. Thinking back to his younger years, it wasn't FP who had refused getting him a dog, but his mother. He'd always put so much blame on FP for his shitty childhood, but now with a little retrospect and maturity, he realized that it had been more of Gladys's fault. Yes, FP drank and didn't have the best track record of staying employed, but his mother had always been so cold and distant while FP, when he was sober, was tough but always loving. It was FP who slept night after night with Jughead in a narrow twin bed when a five year old Jughead had nightmares. It was FP who had give Jughead his Macbook one Christmas a few years ago because he wanted his son to be a writer. Sure, the laptop had been stolen, but it was the thought that counted, right? Gladys had been there most of his life, but never there for him, never there for JB either.

And even now when Gladys knew full well that FP was in prison and Fred was in the hospital, she hadn't even called to check on her son. She hadn't stepped in when social services had assigned him to a foster family. She'd rather Jughead live with strangers than to actually take responsibility for him.

He glanced down the narrow hallway of the trailer to Betty as she paced a small patch of carpet in front of his childhood bedroom as she talked to her mom. God, he was fortunate. All his life, he had yearned to have someone love him. Now he had Betty, the epitome of love and acceptance.

Hot Dog hopped off the couch and pawed against the front door. Jug let him out, following him onto the front porch while the dog did his business in the yard. The rain had stopped, but white, fluffy snow clouds covered the sky, for the time being, holding what little heat was left from the sunshine of the day.

Propping his arms against the wooden railing, he looked out into the dark trailer park. As a kid, he'd been ashamed to live here. It took him until the fourth grade to trust Archie enough to invite him over. He'd expected a ten year old Archie to make fun of his neighborhood, but Archie had thought it was cool how the trailer park had its very own playground and had been fascinated by the idea that all the houses were mobile. He looked out at the rusty mailbox. His dad had hand painted their last name onto it. Now he was the only Jones left at Sunnyside trailer park. And it hadn't been that bad of a place to grow up. He'd been safe, had a roof over his head and a warm bed. It was more than a lot of people had.

The neighbors hadn't been bad either. Most of them Serpents, the residents had always been nice to him when everyone else in Riverdale seemed to want to make his life hell. Not a single light was on, every neighbor sleeping. From the vantage point, he could see the side of Jonny's trailer. The lights were still off, no one home. Hot Dog bounded up the steps, sat at his heels for a moment. Jughead ruffled the dog's fur, taking time to scratch him behind the ears. Hot Dog perked up when he heard the front door open. Betty came out, and Hot Dog darted inside before the door shut.

She joined him at the railing and rested her back against the side of the trailer. Ready for bed, she'd changed into his S t-shirt, but because of the cold, had slipped her pink peacoat on that he'd washed for her. Her usually ponytail had been taken out, her hair falling around her shoulders.

"Carol says to sit tight for now," Betty said. "I called Veronica, and she and Archie think we all should be together. We're going to meet at my house in an hour, Eric and Kevin, too. I figured safety in numbers. We'll all hunker down together until we know our next move."

He sighed as he looked out at what was now his domain. The park was what most Riverdale would see as dirty and rundown, but it was his. The Serpents were an unruly band of miscreants, but they were his people. The Southside was his town, something that he could be proud of, and that was all that mattered to him.

"Hey," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "What are you thinking about, Jug?"

"The Serpents. I hope there isn't going to be even more of a fallout from this for them. And this time a Serpent actually is to blame for everything. I hope the town doesn't hold it against all of them."

"They will," she said, and she was right. "But the Serpents will get through this. We have a strong leader." She kissed his cheek, and started to pull away, but he caught her chin in his hand.

"You're so beautiful, Betty."

"I'm so tired," she said with a sleepy smile.

"Me too. This will all be over soon. Maybe we can get back to our normal life."

"I've forgotten what normal feels like." She sat on the railing again, leaning against the yellowing siding of the trailer.

"I'm glad all this murder and mayhem brought us together, but I wish this wasn't our lives. I wish it was simple. I wish our parents weren't in danger. I wish we weren't either."

She'd washed her minimal makeup off, the circles under her eyes a little more visible now. They needed a break, but for now all they had were these few stolen moments in between investigations and jail visits and worrying about their parents' safety. Soon they were going to be back in the thick of it. All they had was right now, and he wasn't going to waste it.

Without a word, he moved on her suddenly. He untied her coat, shoved the offending fabric aside. He pressed his hand over her heart, against her breastbone, the tips of his fingers pressing into the base of her throat. He pushed the collar of the t-shirt aside, dipped his tongue into the recess of her collarbone, kissed, and nibbled there. He moved her back against the outside wall of the trailer, rucked up the t-shirt up, and he swore when he realized she didn't have a bra or panties on. Without even touching them, her breasts were pointed, nipples puckered and stiff. He bent and lavished one of the tips, swirling his tongue around it. Her head fell back against her shoulder, her eyes closed, eyelashes brushing her cheeks. She fed her fingers through his hair, bracketing the back of his head with her hands, keeping his mouth where it was.

His hand moved between her legs, and despite the cold, she was warm and wet with need for him. His fingers hovered at her entry, but before he could touch her, her hands clamped over his and her eyes flew open.

"Maybe we should go inside," she suggested. She looked over his shoulder, scanning the darkness.

"Don't worry. No one can see us. The entire park is asleep."

She started to move from the ledge of the railing, but instead of letting her go, Jughead's fingers plunged into her. And she didn't resist, didn't argue. Instead, her hips ungulated forward, meeting each thrust of his hand with her own. But he didn't let her come. As he removed his hand, her eyes fluttered open.

"Why'd you stop?" she asked. Her legs looked as steady as liquid as she slid from the railing and onto her feet.

"I don't want you to come until I'm inside you," he said.

"So you just wanted to tease me?" He nodded as she walked forward until she grabbed his shoulders, turned him around. Their positions reversed, his back against the wall of the trailer now. She unbuckled his belt, and yanked it off with such force that he was surprised that she didn't rip a belt loop in the process. She tossed the belt to the porch, the buckle clanging against the wood. She sank to her knees, unzipped his jeans, and pulled him free of his boxers. The night air was cool, but her stroking hand was warm. Her was mouth warmer. The movement of her tongue, the heat of her mouth as her lips wrapped around him. Her tongue swirled around the tip, lapped up the beads of moisture there. He tried to be patient, but couldn't. His fingers tunneled through her blond hair and he thrust gently into her mouth. She took him in deep. He felt his sanity slipping, his control gone, so he pulled away from her. She sat back on her heels, and smiled up at him, her lips shiny with dampness. She started to get up, but he stopped.

"Stay where you are."

He moved behind her, pushed her shoulders gently until she dropped to her hands and knees, on all fours in front of him. Bent over like she was, her backside was completely visible, the moonlight playing over her bare skin. Her choppy breathing was the only sound in the quiet trailer park. After a moment, he entered her. She pushed her hips backwards, her ass hitting his front, their skin slapping together. His arms went around her waist and he folded himself against her. For balance, Betty gripped the slats of the porch as he plowed into her over and over again.

By the time it was over, they were both panting and sweaty. Jughead fell backwards, bringing Betty with him. He held her hand as they both lay on the wooden porch, staring up at the white pricks of the stars against the black night sky. They'd be freezing soon if they didn't get dressed and get back inside, but Jughead was too sedated to move, and he would have probably fallen asleep if Betty hadn't sat up abruptly. She tired her peacoat around her waist and twisted her body around as she looked through the yard to the trailers surrounding them.

"I know you said that everyone in the park is asleep," she said. "But what if someone looked out their window at the exact time we were having animalistic sex on the front porch if FP's trailer?"

"Then we have them a good show," he said, grinning. He readjusted his underwear so that he was decent. He stood up and hauled Betty to her feet. She smoothed the t-shirt down to cover her legs.

They went back inside and into the bedroom where Jughead began to pack a bag for Betty's house. As always, he gathered the essentials first. Packing up his life into a backpack had become second nature.

"I just thought of something," Jughead said. "Something that's always bugged me about Johnny's alibi. You said you think that someone at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy lied for him. Why don't you call, pretending to be Alice. I saw that check stub that your mom wrote to them. She's given the Sisters a lot of money. They would tell her the truth."

"You're right," Betty said. She dialed, and they waited on speaker phone for an answer.

"Sisters of Quiet Mercy, where those in need can live a life of solitude and reflection. This is Sister Francis. How may I bless you today?"

"This is Alice Cooper," Betty said, her tone instantly becoming snobby like her mom's. "A man named Johnny used to be a patient there and now volunteers."

"Oh, yes, Miss Alice. You were friends with him during your stay. And that nice young man Samuel would come visit you both every night during visiting hours."

Betty covered the speaker of the phone, and mouthed Snake? Jughead nodded his head.

"Oh, yes, my boyfriend from high school."

"Not just your boyfriend. When you checked out of here, you two were engaged and very much in love."

Betty sat on the edge of the bed, and idly fiddled with the charm on her necklace. "How could I have forgotten," she said. "It's just been so long since then." She sighed and looked off to nothing for a moment before continuing. "Anyway I'm doing an article of Johnny, you know the man who volunteers there once a week, I was wondering if you could tell me how often he comes and what he does there."

"Johnny is one of our favorite volunteers," Francis replied. "Always on time, always so helpful. He was here last week as always to help me out in the library. Upstanding gentleman. Poor boy has overcome so much adversity in his life. Lost his father at a young age, had to fend for himself, all while fighting inner demons. Satan has always tried so hard to gets his claws in that boy, but Johnny was stronger. After a little trouble as a teen, Johnny turned his life over to the Lord. Riverdale should know what a good man he really is. I'm glad you're taking the time to write about him."

"So he was there last Friday morning?" Betty asked.

"Like always," she replied.

"Okay thank you, Sister Francis," Betty said. "If you think anything else, please call me at this number."

"He has an alibi," Betty said.

"She's lying," Jughead said. "We saw the murder board. We know it was Johnny."

She tucked the phone into the pocket of her coat, slipped on jeans, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "Maybe I was wrong."

"You told me yourself that you were never wrong."

She smiled at him, and picked up her shoes. She hesitated at the foot of the bed for a moment. "So my mom was engaged to Snake."

"Yeah," Jughead replied. "I'm not surprised. They were in love."

"But they didn't end up together," Betty said.

Her eyes darted from him to the empty hallway. He knew this was her anxiety flaring up. "Hey," he said, laying his hands on her shoulders. "We're not our parents. This is forever, you and me." She signed and then nodded before he kissed her forehead.

They loaded everything onto the bike and drove to Betty's house. They went up to her room, and after settling in, got a text from Archie that he and Veronica would be over soon. Jughead changed into pajamas, but Betty stayed in her jeans and Serpent jacket.

"I'm going to take my meds," Betty said before kissing his cheek and leaving him in her bedroom.

The house was silent so he could hear her take a glass out of the cabinet and set it on the counter. The backdoor opened and closed, and he waited for Archie and Veronica to call out, but he didn't hear his best friend. Instead he heard a glass shatter against the kitchen floor.

He vaulted off the bed and ran down the stairs. "Betty!" he yelled as he came into the empty kitchen. "Betty!" The shards of glass were littered across the floor, the pill bottle opened, knocked over, little blue pills scattered across the counter. His heart sank. She was gone.

Then the backdoor opened. Thank God. She was okay.

But it wasn't Betty, but Archie and Veronica. "Hey, Jug, why the yelling?" Archie asked.

"And why did I find Betty's sexy Serpent jacket on the back steps?" Veronica asked, holding up Betty's Serpent jacket.

"Because Johnny took her," Jughead said.