she decides god is no good, but he must exist, / he must exist, so she can hold him accountable.

the echo sounder, ada limón

HIS EYES FINALLY PRY OPEN, CRUST FORMING IN THE CORNERS OF THEM. The bright sun is made even brighter by the white walls that surround him. White walls that are not his own. And his eyes meet blue ones. Blue ones that are not his own. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he blinked a couple times. When his eyes finally focused, he realized that a little girl was staring down at him. A frown overtook his face as a sick feeling settled in his gut. "Who are you?" She asked, her soft voice high and quiet. "Mommy never brings anyone over." His eyes look around the room from where he lies. The room is empty and there is no sign of Elaine.

"Your mother and I work together." He mumbled as he slowly pushed himself to sit up on the couch. Her wide eyes followed his form in an uncomfortable way. She stared up at him like most children do. With an innocent curiosity. Like they're trying to understand everything they can about the world in that moment. Like she'll understand the secrets of the universe if she simply understood him. It's all too much sometimes. The familiar look in her eyes, the way she hops up onto the couch to sit next to him. Clenching his jaw, his eyes search the room for anything else to keep his mind occupied. He does not like thinking of Sophia. He should have known this would happen. He should have known that he wouldn't be able to handle this. But it's much worse than he thought. Maybe a part of him was convinced that he was getting better, getting healthier. But this sudden appearance of this little girl was telling him that he was not better. That he couldn't stop seeing his own daughter in her eyes, in her hair tied into a ponytail, in the pink shirt with a sparkly unicorn on the front. His hands curled into tight fists on his lap.

A door slammed shut down the hall, revealing a tired Elaine dressed in all black. Her hair looked washed and fresh, half of it tied up in a loose ponytail. "Edie, stop bugging Mr. Cohle. Do you have all your books in your backpack?" The little girl hummed affirmatively as she jumped off of the couch and rushed into the kitchen after her mother. Setting the purple lunchbox on the counter, Elaine got to work making a lunch for her daughter.

"Is that your boyfriend?" The little girl whispered with a giggle.

A small smile played on Elaine's lips as she rolled her eyes. "No, Miss Nosy." She pulled out the sack of bread, the jars of peanut butter and grape jelly, and a butter knife. "What're you bringin' for show and tell today?"

"Can I bring him?" Her small hand pointed back towards the man on the couch. With a chuckle, Elaine shook her head. The little girl pouted as she crossed her arms over her chest. With an exaggerated groan, the girl spun on her heel and returned to her seat on the couch next to Rust. Grabbing the remote, she turned the television on. The screen immediately illuminated with a cartoon that he failed to recognize. It had been some time since he'd had to watch cartoons. His hands reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes. He had hoped for so long that a part of him had been able to heal. But seeing a photo of the child was much different than sitting next to her. Something about this made her real and tangible. Not just a photo anymore but a real girl that, if his eyes unfocus, looks too much like Sophia. "I like your bird." Her voice brings him from his thoughts. Her tiny finger barely grazes the aged tattoo on his forearm. "Mommy has one on her leg. It's a bunny rabbit." His eyes lift towards Elaine in the kitchen. She payed no mind to the conversation happening in the living room. To his right, the girl leaned in closer. "Are you her boyfriend?" She whispered.

"Edith," Elaine called out, a scolding tone behind her words, "go get your toy for show and tell." The little girl hopped off of the couch once again and took off down the hall towards her bedroom. "Sorry 'bout her. She got her mother's nosiness, I guess."

"'S fine." He muttered under his breath, hands rubbing his eyes before slowly rubbing down the back of his neck. But the pit that had opened up in his stomach was refusing to back down, to diminish. His fingers itched towards his pack of Camels. But he held off. Pushing himself up from the couch, he reached over to grab his tie from the armrest of the couch. His button-up hung loosely from his shoulders, unbuttoned, revealing the white wife-beater underneath. "May I use your bathroom?"

"Second door on the right." She simply responded, not looking up from the lunch she organized for her daughter.

He turned and began to drag his way towards the bathroom. Passing the room on the left, his curious eyes glanced inside. A room with bare walls sits with a bed, blankets sloppily strewn about. He noticed a black book on the nightstand. A book he can not mistake as anything other than the Bible. He never struck her as a believer. But neither was he, and he had a crucifix hung up on his wall. Maybe, like he, it took on a different meaning for her. Maybe it was there for decor. Forcing his gaze away, he continued down the hall and finally approached the bathroom. It was a nice size - bigger than his own. Shutting the door, his eyes land on a small net basket of toys hung on the wall in the tub. His frown deepened as he turned the sink on. Cupping his hands, he let them fill with water before splashing it up towards his face. The water is frigid, but that's how he likes it. Doesn't let himself feel the relief of warm water. Would rather feel every muscle in his body tense up under the icy stream than allow himself the small comfort of warmth.

Shutting off the sink, he looked up at his reflection in the mirror. He looked worn and ragged, more so than usual. A part of him wondered if it was because of the kid. If this was all bringing back too much, too quickly. His reflection is a horrifying tale these days. For so many years, he wondered what Claire ever saw in him. Because he's always been like this. Maybe a bit easier to smile, easier to please. And maybe that's what ultimately dragged them down. His difficult nature. Maybe he was never meant to love someone like he loved Sophia. And maybe that was the cause of all of this misery. He wished it was him that had been taken. But it's a useless wish. Nothing can change the past. Nothing can change the future. He was stuck like this, miserable and counting down the days until his clock ticks one last time. There had been a time that he thought he had almost been caught back in Texas, by Ginger and the gang. And a flash of fear had passed him at the idea of dying. But that flash is long gone. Now, he almost welcomes it. Anything to put this misery to bed. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he grabbed the white hand towel hung up next to the sink and pressed it to his face, drying up the droplets of water. Drying his hands, he gripped the edges of the counter tightly. He wants nothing more than to be gone from here. From the world or simply from her house, he's not completely sure. He just knows that he wants to be gone. In any capacity of the word.

With another sigh, one that wracks through his body, he finally turns and opens the door. He walked out into the hall before a small body slammed into him. Her hand grabbed his middle finger, yanking him towards the room next door. "Come look at my toys!" She exclaimed as she pulled him into the bedroom. The pit in his stomach swallows him whole now. It leaves a burning sensation slowly traveling up his throat and, for a moment, he wonders if he might throw up. She pulled him towards a pile of dolls in the middle of the floor, the same dolls he had seen in the living room the night before. "This is Sarah, she's a doctor." She holds up one of the blonde dolls for him to see. "And this is Megan, she's a detective like Mommy." She holds up a redheaded doll that could resemble Elaine in a certain light. "And this is Penny, she's a princess. And she's married to Ken, he's a prince." She holds up two dolls, one a girl and the other a boy. She holds them out to him, waiting patiently for him to take them into his hands. Which he does, hesitantly. "This is Edith, she's a hairdresser. And she has a crush on Aiden." She holds up another set of dolls like the last two.

"Aiden?" He asks before he can fully process it. He realized that the girl doll she's holding could look like her when she's grown up. And he'd seen enough of his past friends interacting with their daughters to know what this is. "Is there an Aiden in your class?"

The little girl in front of him suddenly goes shy, ducking her head as her face grows red. She gently nodded, almost too embarrassed to look him in the eye now. This was a stark contrast to the girl he'd met just this morning. The girl who was all talk and giggles. The girl who dragged a stranger into her bedroom to show them her dolls and their convoluted lore. "Maybe." She mumbled.

"Oh no," a mumble from the doorway distracted the two, "don't tell me she's giving you the very complicated story of Barbieland. Edith Marie, go get your shoes on." Without another word, the girl drops her dolls and takes off running into the living room. "Again, I'm sorry for her. I know she can be... a lot to people who ain't been 'round kids that much." Running a hand through her hair, Elaine sighed. A guilt almost ate at her for how this morning was going. She'd had six years of practice with Edith. But he hadn't even known she had a kid. She's sure this is all too much for someone half hungover. "Figured we could get breakfast 'fore headin' into the office. Sound good to you?" He simply nodded, setting the girl's dolls on the bed and following the woman back into the living room.

The little girl had thrown her backpack on, her lunchbox in hand and glittery sneakers velcroed on. "C'mon, kiddo." Elaine smiled as she scooped the girl up in her arms. Somewhere in his chest, he felt a sharp jab as he watched the two hold onto each other. The amount of times he'd seen Claire hold Sophia like that... it was enough to make him regret ever speaking to Elaine. But he remained silent as he grabbed his blazer and carried it under his arm. Closing the front door behind them, he watched her lean into the backseat of her car and strap the girl into her booster seat. How he hadn't seen that, he's not sure. Maybe he's losing his touch. His hands curled into tight fists for a fleeting moment before shaking loose. She shut the back door and rounded the corner to climb into the driver's seat.

The drive was silent, except for the occasional hum from the girl in the back. In her hands was another one of her dolls, her fingers brushing through the plastic hair. The school nearby was close. As they pulled into the empty lane for cars, Elaine parked it and climbed out. Rust turned his eyes towards the sign. 'Light of God School for Children.' Anything to keep his eyes from the mother and daughter hugging each other goodbye next to his window. Pulling the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he lit the end and took a deep, needed drag. The driver door opened as Elaine climbed back in and started the car. "I know you said you were married once," she finally mentioned, "got any kids?"

That pit in his stomach returns full force. Shaking his head, he let smoke drip from his lips. "No." He simply responded. Looking back out the window, he watched the passing fields. This town was a nowhere town. It doesn't exist outside of their own bubble. Why he transferred here, he still doesn't know. Maybe it's good for him. Change of pace from Texas. But he almost finds himself regretting it. "Who's Aiden?"

A chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head. "A boy in her class. She has a crush on him." Her eyes glance towards him for a moment. "I'm surprised she told you 'bout him. Must like you." She turned onto a main road, leading towards the diner they'd gone to the night before. "Maybe you got a real knack with kids."

†

"So, Detective Baker, you and Detective Greenwood went up to Baton Rouge that morning to talk to Barker Ray, correct?"

"Correct."

"Was that before or after you returned to the crime scene that day?"

"After. We went back to the bar to see what those boys had been burnin'."

"And what'd you find?"

"Wouldn't you know it, they'd been burnin' pictures of Bella-Jo. Pictures of Barker with Bella-Jo. Turns out, she'd been cheatin' on her boyfriend with his brother. Gave us a motive for Eddie. Just had to find 'im, now."

"And how did Detective Greenwood seem that day, going up to Baton Rouge?"

A chuckle. "She seemed better, actually. Like she was in a good mood for the first time in years."

"Did she ever mention Rustin Cohle during the investigation?"

A beat of silence. "A little. Why?"

"Just trying to get the whole picture."

†

Shifting her weight, she sighed as she looked around the beaten down, sad excuse for a house. The outer door barely hangs on its hinges, the wire half ripped out. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she turns her back to the door. Lon quietly taps his pen along the front of his notepad as he stared at the door. His eyes slowly look down past the outer door. Letting out a short, quiet whistle, Elaine spun on her heel towards him. Her eyes follow his gaze towards the pair of high heels that rest next to a pair of work boots. Her hand dug into the inner pocket of her blazer, pulling out one of the burnt photos. That same pair of heels can be faintly seen in one of the photos, conveniently next to Barker's face. Both Elaine and Lon shared a look as she stuffed the photos back into her pocket.

The door finally swung open to an older woman with a cigarette hanging from her lips. "What?" She croaked out, her voice raspier than Elaine had ever heard.

"Hi, ma'am," Lon quickly greeted her with his prize-winning smile, holding his hand out to her, "I'm Detective Lon Baker and this is my partner Elaine Greenwood. We were hopin' to speak to you for a li'l bit this mornin'."

Her eyes slowly took them in, suspicious and conspiratory. "Make it quick. I got church tonight." Her fingers quickly snatched the cigarette from her lips and stuffed it into the pocket of her blue robe. Without shaking his hand, she motioned for them to follow her into the house. Lon is the first to follow, Elaine following closely behind. Her eyes look around at the chaotic home. Newspapers and clothing items litter the floor.

"You a Baptist woman?" Lon asked with a small, friendly smile.

"Only way to be."

"Yes, ma'am. My momma was raised a Catholic and, after she met my daddy, she switched on over. Always said it was the best decision she ever made. Said she never felt right with the Lord until then."

The woman took him in, her eyes narrowing as she took her seat on the stained couch. "Yes, sir, I believe that. I ain't never met more devout people in my life." Lon takes a seat in the chair next to the couch. "I can always tell who ain't got the Lord in their life." Her eyes find Elaine's, boring into her. Clenching her jaw, Elaine turns away from the woman, continuing her look around the living room. Her eyes run along the aged photos hung along the walls. One of them is a photo of two young boys, who she can assume are Eddie and Barker. Opening her notepad, she began writing down notes of the room. A short hallway sits between the kitchen and the living room. At the end of the hallway, she noticed a shut door with a light shining out from under it. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the bottom of the door. Two dark shadows block out bits of the light.

"Mrs. Ray, do you live alone?" She asked, interrupting Lon's question.

Both Lon and the older woman turned their gaze to Elaine. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as their eyes met. "I do." She answered with a frown. "Why?"

"So, your sons no longer live with you?"

"No, they do not. Made sure they moved out the day after their eighteenth birthday."

"How long's it been since you last seen 'em?"

"What the hell's this 'bout?" She snapped at the two detectives.

Lon was quick to react, his back straightening. "Mrs. Ray, I'm sorry for my partner. She can be... a little callous." He shot a glare at Elaine before turning back towards the older woman. "We're here because a woman that was close with both o' your sons has turned up dead."

Her aged eyes narrow as she looks between the two detectives. "Bella-Jo, right?" A deep sigh escaped her lips as she reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I knew that girl was gon' get 'im in trouble." Her hand reached over to pick her cigarette pack from the side table and stuck one between her aged lips. "You said she turned up dead? Like, murdered-dead?"

"Unfortunately, ma'am." Lon bowed his head as a sign of respect for the dead. But the woman paid his respect no mind as she struck her lighter and lit the end of her cigarette.

"That junkie whore got my eldest boy into meth. I knew God would catch up to 'er one day." Clenching her jaw, Elaine bit her tongue once again. Not the first, definitely not the last. "Barker! Get 'yer ass out here!"

"After the eighteenth birthday, huh?" Elaine mumbled as she leaned her shoulder against the wall across from the couch. The older woman shot her a glare, but the detective was an impenetrable wall.

The door at the end of the hall popped and creaked open, revealing a disheveled man in a sweat-stained wife beater and stained blue boxers. One sock is riddled with holes while the other is frayed at the edges. His eyes avoid hers as he slowly shuffles down the hall and into the living room. The older woman introduces the detectives to her eldest son, tells him to tell them everything he knows. "Barker Ray, it's good to meet you. I was hopin' you could tell me the last time you saw Bella-Jo Walters."

The man shifted uncomfortably, his hand scratching his arm. "I, uh... I last saw her pro'lly two weeks 'go."

"And did you notice anything out o' the ordinary? Maybe she was actin' a bit jumpy 'r mentioned someone that might'a been botherin' her?" Lon asked. This is how their partnership worked - he asked the questions and she observed. She wasn't good with people, but Lon... he was a natural. Knew how to work a crowd. She always told him that he should have been a newscaster or a game show host. Anything but a detective for grimy cases like theirs. A small frown played on her lips as the man glanced between the two. His hand scratched the inside of his arm again. The man simply shrugged before shaking his head. "So... nothin' unusual at all? Business as usual?"

"Yes, sir." Scratching his arm again, Elaine finally caught sight of a littering of holes right where the crease of his arm is. Her pen began writing down notes in her notepad. 'Barker arm holes from shooting up,' she wrote. Her handwriting is sloppy but it's quick enough and she can faintly read it once she has a few drinks in her. That's all she cares about. And no one else felt the need to read her notes, thought them useless. But at least she didn't take as many notes as Rust, she thought. She's seen that giant ledger he drags around and she saw those pages full of notes. Maybe it was better to cover all bases. But that was more Lon's job. He noticed everything, even as he played to the crowd. Maybe that's why he was so damn good at his job. Maybe that's why they put her with him, to pick up the slack she left behind. They knew she couldn't be good on her own. Rubbing her eyes, she let out a soft sigh.

Glancing to her right, her eyes widened at the sight of the girl. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she felt the tears beginning to prick at her eyes. "Fuck off," she hissed under her breath at the apparition. But the girl was persistent. Refused to leave her line of sight. Refused to just walk away or vanish. Shutting her eyes tight, she tried to will away the girl that so often followed her, consumed her thoughts since 1985. Ten long years of suffering. Ten long years of blame and guilt and drinking. A shaky breath escaped her lips as she tightened her shut eyes. Tight enough to see stars. Enough to force out a tear to slip down her cheek and drip from her jaw. The voices around her fade into a static as she silently prays to a god she doesn't even believe in that this passes. It's almost cosmically funny how religious she becomes in these moments. She thinks that her mother must have hoped this horrible event would have brought Elaine closer - closer to her and to the church. What good that had done, she thought to herself. If she thinks about it too much, she can almost hear the girl's laughter.

"Detective Greenwood," a voice finally brought her back. Her eyes dart open to see the three looking at her. Glancing to her right, she notices the empty space. "You got any other questions?" Lon asked from his spot on the couch.

Flipping through her notepad, she finally finds the page of the names and numbers from Lon. "You friends with a Jake Lockhart, Henry Kitter, or Greg Riley?"

His eyes widen nearly imperceptibly. "My old drinkin' buddies." His shoulders shrugged again.

"You'd say you trust 'em, right? With just 'bout anythin'?"

"What're you gettin' at, Detective?" The older woman asked with a glare.

With a soft sigh, her fingers stuffed her notebook in her pocket and quickly fished out the burnt photos. "You might even trust 'em with the fact that you're sleepin' with your brother's girlfriend. Maybe even trust 'em to try to get rid o' photographic evidence of you sleepin' with your brother's girlfriend." Her hands hold up the photos, showing off the photo of Bella-Jo's heels pressed to his face. She moves it to reveal a half-burnt photo of him kissing her neck. Another photo shows Bella-Jo from the stomach up, her breasts on full display. "Must be pretty good friends for you to trust 'em with that."

"Am I under arrest 'r somethin'?" He croaked out with a frown and a glare. Over time, glares have lost their power over her. Her mother's glare was harsh and cutting. Her boss' glare was authoritative and condescending. Lon's glare is hardly a glare at all. She does not care for it anymore. It no longer finds its way under her skin, digging into her bones. But Sally's... Sally had a mean glare on her. Got that from their mother, she knows it. They both knew it. They were both extensions of their mother. A graveyard of failures. Maybe she hoped that Sally would not suffer the same fate as her - that second time was the charm and that they would see this new daughter as the pinnacle of success. But they were both failures in their own ways. Elaine found her way around a bottle or six. Sally found her way around a man or two. They were not the pious church girls that their mother was and wanted. They were guilty of the crime of being their own people rather than the pretty little dolls their mother wanted. They had been failures since the age of three and were only going downhill from there. But Sally had struck gold. The best thing about being dead was that she could no longer disappoint. She was now the golden child. Meanwhile, Elaine just kept getting worse. Kept drinking, kept rotting away in her living room with a daughter out of wedlock. "Because, last I checked, fuckin' some bitch ain't illegal." His gruff voice pulled her from her thoughts. His mother snapped his name, scolding him for his language.

"No, Mr. Ray," she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "you ain't under arrest yet. I'd just like to know why you're one of the last people I've heard that saw her alive."

He visibly swallowed the lump in his throat. "I doubt that. Bella-Jo got 'round that bar."

Elaine and Lon shared a look. They hadn't mentioned the bar. Stuffing the photos back into her blazer, she nodded towards Lon. "Barker Ray, you have the right to remain silent," her partner was quick to pull his handcuffs from his trouser pocket and approach the man, "anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney-" Before she can finish, the man takes off out the front door. "Shit!" She hissed as they both took off after him. Drawing their guns, they chase after him through the yard and out towards the trailer park across the field. His mother shouts after them at the front door, mostly insults.

Maybe it's the cigarettes catching up, but she feels her lungs constricting. It's been some time since she's last chased a suspect. Maybe a year? She hadn't been keeping track. And most of the past decade has been a blur. But the alcohol and the cigarettes are beginning to catch up to her. Beginning to take their toll on her aged body. She was too damn old to be doing this shit anymore, she thinks to herself as she watched Barker fling himself over the short wire fence of the trailer park. Lon is ahead of her, hot on the man's heels. You can tell that he has few unhealthy vices.

Ahead of her, as she began to slow down, she watched as Barker's foot caught on a wire decoration in the front lawn of a trailer, tripping him and sending him slamming into the grass. Lon is quick to descend upon him, handcuffs in hand and quickly clamping down on the man's wrists, repeating his Miranda rights. Air wheezes through her lungs as Lon approached her, the man cuffed and bleeding from a cut on his chin. "You good?" He asked as he neared her. She simply nodded, vainly attempting to catch her breath. She turned and followed them to the car. Stuffing the suspect into the back of the car, the two detectives climbed into the front, ignoring the slew of insults Mrs. Ray flung at them.

"Fuck you, pigs!" Barker spat at them.

"You get any o' that spit on the seats and you're scrubbin' it out, ya' hear me?" Lon snapped at him, barely sparing him a glance in the rearview mirror. The car peeled out of the street, on their way back to the office. Other than the occasional grumble of annoyance from Barker, the ride is mostly silent. "So," Lon started, his eyes glancing towards Elaine, "you mind I ask you somethin'?"

Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to look at him. Something in his look did not make her feel secure. But with a sigh, she shrugged her shoulders. "Guess it 'pends on what you're 'bout to ask."

"Don't think none o' us noticed you and 'ole Cohle walkin' in together with food from Susie's."

A groan of annoyance escaped her lips as her hands raised to cover her face. "I just knew you were gon' say somethin'." Her voice is muffled by her hands. She can faintly hear him chuckling next to her.

"And don't think I didn't notice you stay after me with him."

Her hands dragged down her face, completely smudging her mascara. "It ain't what you think, Lon."

"Pray tell what it is, then. Because from where I'm sittin'-"

"We had a couple o' drinks. Went over our cases. Nothin' else." She answered, biting down on her bottom lip. Her teeth tugged at the dead skin that littered her bumpy and uneven lips. "Thought there might be a connection 'r somethin'. Nothin' else." He simply hummed in response, a smirk playing on his own chapped lips. Rolling her eyes, she sighed again. "You know I ain't like 'at, Lon."

"I know!" He exclaimed with a chuckle. "That's why imagine my surprise when you two stroll in together, carryin' identical to-go boxes from Susie's."

Silence filled in the gaps as she rolled her eyes again. Her face burns something mighty as she avoids looking towards her partner in fear of giving away some secret feeling even she might not be aware of. Her teeth continue to chew at her bottom lip until the taste of copper fills her mouth. Her tongue runs over the open wound for a moment, gathering the blood like a candy. "I like 'at new burger they got there at Susie's." Barker spoke from the back seat.

Lon glances up at the man through his rearview mirror. A moment of silent passed them. "It is pretty damn good, ain't it?"