A frigid wind blows through Diamond City, and it feels even colder in the upper stands where Nick currently loiters. He draws his detective's coat around him and crosses his arms to conserve heat, then shuffles his feet as he waits in front of the door he has just knocked on. Idly, his eyes drift to the house next door. There is a little metal statue of a cat against the wall, a few plastic flowers in a pot in the windowsill. They look tacky, Nick thinks. And though it has been eight years, he is surprised anyone even lives there after the horrific slaughter that occurred in that home. He wonders how long it took to scrub the blood off the walls, out of the floors. He wonders who has Maggie's room now, and if she is ever a thought that occurs to the residents there or if she is simply another forgotten casualty in this hellish, post-apocalyptic world.
He blinks, unfocused golden eyes focusing again as he reminds himself that the Wasteland is a cruel place, and though he carries with him Human Nick's memories of a more idyllic world where such an incident may eternally condemn a home, it is not the world he finds himself in today. Quickly, he turns back to the door in front of him and raises his fist, knocking again; harder now.
This time, he hears some shuffling, and thank God, too, because it feels like the cold is getting to his old joints. The door opens, revealing an older woman wearing a thick sweater and a sweet smile. "Detective Valentine!" she greets him.
Nick smiles. "Good to see you, Mrs. Bennet."
"Have you been out here long? We thought we heard a knock earlier but we weren't sure. Oh, I do hope you weren't waiting in the cold." the old woman frets as she steps aside and quickly waves her hand, motioning for Nick to come inside which he obliges.
"Just got here, actually." he lies, because he doesn't want her to feel guilty for making him wait. He wipes his shoes and then follows her into the home, which is considerably warmer than it is outside.
"Good, it's damn cold out there!" Mrs. Bennet snorts, then steps into the main living area of the home where her husband is sitting in a soft chair against the far wall, reading a newspaper and listening to the radio. "Earl! Nick is here!" she barks, and the man looks up and smiles at Nick, giving him a wave.
"You been well, Earl?" Nick asks him as he follows Mrs. Bennet into the kitchen.
Earl grunts as he wiggles himself out of his chair and then shuffles to the kitchen. "Same old, same old." he replies, and Nick blows air from his nose and smiles politely.
"Heh. Well, I suppose that's not a bad thing." he replies. Earl grins.
"No, no. Not at all!" he says jovially as he moves to sit at the table. Nick doesn't mind small talk, but today he is feeling restless. He does, though, appear outwardly collected, and he takes a seat at the table as well.
"Coffee?" Mrs. Bennet offers.
Nick nods and says, "If you're offering, I would love one."
"Make it two, Betty." Earl says, and Mrs. Bennet puts the kettle on and fills three cups with instant coffee, then ambles over and joins the men at the table.
"So," she says with a soft grin as she studies the synth's face, "were you here for a visit, or is there a reason you came to see us boring old folk?"
"Actually," Nick replies, "I was hoping I could ask you some questions about the O'Hearns."
Both Earl and Betty stop and regard each other with curiosity, before Earl turns his head toward Nick. "The O'Hearns?" he asks, then raises his eyebrows. "It's been a while since anyone's brought them up."
"Oh, that poor girl..." Betty frowns, her voice sympathetic. "I saw Rosa is still putting posters up. Still trying to find her all these years later... Just terrible."
"Yeah," Nick nods, "that's why I'm here."
Earl looks a bit more detached from the situation. "Well, we already told you what we know." he reminds the detective, who is pulling a pen and notepad from an inside pocket in his coat.
"I know, and I thank you for it. But... that was eight years ago, and my long-term isn't always so great."
This earns him a small laugh of pity from Betty, who then reaches out and takes his arm in her hand gently. "Ours either."
"What a drag it is getting old." Earl jokes, and Nick chuckles.
"We're beyond the 'getting' part, don't you think?" Nick quips, which draws laughter from both Betty and Earl.
"Ain't that the truth!" Betty leans back in her seat. "Well... What do you want to know?"
"First... Why don't you tell me what you remember about that night." Nick requests, then notices that Earl grimaces as he recalls what he had seen. Betty, too, looks uncomfortable, and there is a short pause before she speaks up.
"Well..." she begins, eyes travelling upwards as she digs into her memory, "It was pretty late, I remember. Earl and I had just got in from the Taphouse." her eyes narrow. "I remember that, because we were both shocked just how late we'd stayed up and how tired we were."
Nick nods. "How late? Do you remember?"
"Oh, God." Betty's eyes narrow further. "Maybe one, two in the morning?" she looks to Earl for confirmation, and he shrugs.
"Sounds right?" he says the words as if he is unsure, and Nick puts a question mark beside his notes.
"Anyway, I was in the kitchen here, and Earl was in his chair taking off his socks," Betty looks to where the chair is, up against the wall which they shared with the neighbouring home, where the O'Hearns once lived, "and that's when we heard this terrible screaming."
"Did it sound like Maggie?" Nick asks, and Betty shakes her head.
"I don't think so, it sounded like Ivy." Ivy was Maggie's mother. "It didn't last too long, and Earl got up with one sock on and ran out the door with his gun to see what the commotion was."
The kettle screams then. Betty stands quickly and hurries to take it off the burner, and Nick casts his attention to Earl, silently asking him to continue the story.
Earl's eyes flick briefly to Nick, and he clears his throat. "When I got over there it was awful." he says, his stomach churning at the memory alone. As with most people in the Commonwealth, there is a degree of desensitization in regards to violence – but when it is your own neighbours who have been butchered, it tends to internalize a touch more. "David," Maggie's father, "was sitting in his chair with his throat slashed wide open." His face appears to be paling as he goes on, "And Ivy, I found her in the kitchen. Oh, it was bad, Nick." he shakes his head as he locks eyes with Valentine, who swallows reflexively. "She looked like she'd been stabbed a hundred times. She'd wet herself, too. Really bad stuff."
"I'm sorry you had to see that." Nick says sincerely, and Earl looks away.
"Me too."
Betty sets a cup of coffee down in front of the men now, and when Earl reaches for his, his hand is shaking slightly.
"And the kid?" Nick asks, taking his own coffee now and moving it aside slightly to give it time to cool.
"Nothing." Earl says. "I screamed at Betty to go get security, but by the time they got there, whoever had done it was long gone they said. And they turned this town upside down looking for Maggie, too."
"Yeah, I remember the manhunt." Nick says, tapping his pen thoughtfully onto his notebook. Betty closes the window in the kitchen and then brings her own coffee to the table to join the two once more.
"Honestly, I don't know who on Earth could ever have done something so terrible." Betty says. "The O'Hearns were good people. They had lots of friends, seemed like they always had visitors. They were polite, and good neighbours too... And Maggie was a little sweetheart." She shakes her head. "Had to have been someone absolutely rotten, that's for damn sure."
The three are quiet, and Nick sips at his coffee as the radio provides pleasant background noise.
'Why does the sun go on shining? Why does the sea rush to shore? Don't they know, it's the end of the world, 'cause you don't love me anymore...' Skeeter Davis croons over the airwaves, and Betty, who is looking indistinctly at the wall, smiles nostalgically.
"That girl used to love this song." she says softly, then laughs. "Isn't that right, Earl?"
"Did she?"
"Yeah, remember?" Betty looks almost offended that he doesn't. "She used to play this song at full volume. All the time."
"Oh, yeah." Earl chuckles. "I had to go over a couple times and ask her to turn it down."
Nick smiles warmly; it is such a humanizing memory of the girl and it only motivates him further to find her, or at least what happened to her. Maggie was far more than a photograph on a poster – she was a little girl, with dreams and aspirations and a favourite song. And he's going to bring her justice if it's the last thing he ever does.
Nick visits with the Bennets for a short while longer, asks them a few more questions, then thanks them for their hospitality and steps back into the cold. With his hands jammed into his pockets, he makes his way to the stairs. He stops before he can begin his descent and throws another look over his shoulder towards the O'Hearn's old residence, and then his eyes scan the area around it. Where could the culprit even have run to? The home was back in the corner, and he reckons that, depending on the patrols that night, whoever had taken the lives of the O'Hearns would have had to run past a guard or two on their way from the crime scene. He supposes they could have climbed up the wall, but then, the drop down would have very likely killed them, and no bodies had been found around the wall – it was something he was adamant on checking when the incident had occurred.
He is lost in his thoughts, but a strong gust of icy wind snaps him out of his own head and back to reality. He turns and heads down the stairs, one hand on the railing as he stares out toward the market. He can see Becky dressing one of her outdoor mannequins in winter wear, John leaning against a beam outside his barber shop. Solomon waves Cass over as he walks casually into the market, Myrna chats idly with Moe, and Nat works hard trying to put a newspaper in the hands of every single person who walks by her. The market is busy today, bustling with residents and drifters alike. All of these people go about their lives so casually, yet Nick can't help but wonder: could there be a monster lurking among them?