wheelsy_sheriff | [[thursday]]

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[[thursday]]

[And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off]

Bill is sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of Frosted Flakes, idly sifting through puzzle pieces. Only a small part of the puzzle is on the tabletop in front of him and the pieces are in the open box beside his elbow, his bowl on the other side.

After waking up it'd taken him awhile to get his bearings, and he was surprised when he discovered he'd slept right on through the day and night.

Kate was asleep and he'd been extra careful not to wake her when he slipped out of bed.

The phone was on the floor beside the bed along with the notepad with the messages she'd taken and he'd brought both with him to the kitchen; they're sitting on the table now, being ignored.

He's scooping up another spoonful of flakes when someone knocks. Turning his head towards the front door he glances at the hallway leading to the bedroom and gets up.

The knock sounds again and he picks up his step, moving quicker to get the door before whoever is on the other side wakes up Kate. Pulling it open he's ready to run off a reporter and instead finds himself staring at a deputy.

"Rudy?"

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Rudy's shoulders are hunched against the cold and his fists are in his jacket pockets. His hair's seen better mornings and he looks like he slept in his uniform.

(Which he did, but not for long; he and Kelly took watch in shifts.)

"Heya, sheriff," he says, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his stiff neck. "You think I could borrow the john?"

He looks Rudy over and nods, stepping back to let him in.

"Yeah, sure, c'mon in."

He glances out the door briefly before closing it, puzzled even more when he doesn't see the cruiser, and arches a brow at Rudy.

"The hell you doin'?"

"Thanks."

Once he's inside, he throws a glance toward the door, then looks at Bill.

"Oh, uh, we're in the Crown Vic."

He looks at the closed door then back at Rudy, confused expression growing.

"What? Who?"

"Me an' Kelly, who else?"

Rudy's halfway across the room, heading for the bathroom, when he pauses and turns.

"Kate, uh, told you we was out there, didn't she?"

Forget foot-in-mouth syndrome; his ankle's somewhere near his esophagus before the question is completely out of his mouth.

"You an' Kelly?" His voice rises as Rudy continues to be unhelpful and Bill forces himself to quiet down.

He takes a couple quick strides forward to close the distance between them again and his eyes are sharp on Rudy.

"No. What the hell's goin' on, Rudy?"

"We -- well, Dave -- "

Rudy's Adam's apple bobs.

"Kate got a call last night, little after ten, I guess, from some nut-job. Said, uh, they had it in for you. She called Dave, and Dave sent us over here to watch the house, just in case there was anything to it."

He scratches his ear for an awkward beat.

"Thought she woulda told you, sheriff."

Bill's expression shifts from stern to surprised and his brows knit.

"Who called? What'd they say?" In a minute he'll realize Rudy really isn't the one he needs to be talking with but the deputy is the only person here.

Bill glances back towards the bedroom then refocuses on Rudy. "We haven't-- I been asleep. Did ya'll see anything?"

"Caller ID was blocked."

He shakes his head.

"Nothin'. Not even a peep -- well, aside from the neighbor's dogs. The fat one almost gave me a goddamn stroke 'bout three this mornin', but ... "

He trails off, frowning.

"Dave got word that Mrs. Hargrove got a call in Bishopville, too, the guy sayin' her husband got what he deserved."

His lips twitch in what's almost a smile at the mention of the dogs but that disappears quickly when Rudy continues. Hearing about the call to Mrs. Hargrove Bill's jaw sets and his features harden.

"What the hell kind of son of a bitch-- " His hands tighten at his sides and he bites back words, again having to force his his voice lower. "We got anything on who it might be?"

Rudy averts his eyes, shaking his head while he studies the floor.

"It shows up as a private number. Dave's waitin' for the phone company to get back to him, see if they can release any information. But barrin' that, if they call back, we can try and trace it."

A beat.

"'Course, we'd need to know ahead of time and be set up and ready for it, and -- "

"Good morning, guys."

Rudy stops, his head jerking up when Kate speaks.

"Mornin', Kate. I, uh." He looks between Kate and Bill. "Y'know, me and Kelly need to get the car back to the station, and I can just, uh ... go there."

He's nodding to what Rudy is saying and almost jumps when Kate's hoarse voice interrupts. His head snaps to look at her and his hardened features take a moment to change into something less severe.

"Kate. Mornin'."

He looks her over slowly, concerned, then turns back to Rudy.

"Thanks, Rudy. You tell Dave to call me if anything turns up an' I'll call him anyways in a bit. Ya'll watch out, tell Dave to keep you partnered an' don't let him go nowhere on his own either. Got that?"

"Got it," Rudy nods, already backing toward the door and nearly stumbling over his own feet. "And anything happens here, we'll be back lickety-split."

His back his the door and he offers a tight, apologetic smile.

"See y'all."

Stifling a yawn, Kate watches the front door close from the edge of the hall and hugs her robe to her torso. She leans one shoulder against the wall and glances at Bill, still seeing the look on his face when he'd turned to her.

"You're up early. Sleep okay?"

"I got an' appointment."

One he's been debating about all morning and won't be going to now.

His back is to her when he speaks, jaw still tight, and he locks the door before turning around.

"What did they say on the phone?"

She runs a hand through her hair, gathering it into a thick, messy knot at her nape.

"You tell that motherfuckin' pig next time he gets shot, it's gonna be in the heart."

"That if you get shot again, it'll kill you."

She presses her lips together for a moment, willing her chin not to tremble.

"It's stupid, just -- someone being stupid. I didn't want to wake you up for something like that."

He stills a moment when he hears what the caller said and then he forces himself to push down any shock or fear.

"You called Dave," He reminds her, an edge in his voice.

He moves back into the kitchen, grabbing his cereal bowl off the table and taking it to the sink.

Because I was terrified.

She walks into the kitchen, pausing on the other side of the counter.

"You don't think I should've?"

"I think you shoulda told me so I ain't sittin' here with no idea somethin's wrong."

He dumps out what's left of the cereal and starts washing the bowl.

'I asked you to get me up if you needed me."

"I -- Bill, you needed the sleep."

She tries not to wince when the bowl clatters into the sink.

"I was going to tell you this morning; I'm sorry I didn't hear you get up."

"I didn't need it that bad," He snaps, dropping the bowl and spoon into the dish drainer.

Taking a slow breath the flare of anger dies and when he turns he gives her an apologetic look.

Shaking his head at himself his tone and features soften and he asks, "You all right?"

Don't do this.

She nods and looks away.

"Fine."

Guilt and anger tangle in his chest and he doesn't let himself say anything for a minute.

"I didn't mean it."

He turns away from her and looks towards the back door.

"You never do."

The words are out before she can stop them, and she passes a hand over her eyes.

"I'm sorry -- I'm just tired. I didn't sleep so great, and -- I'm sorry."

He winces at her words, they hurt and he knows he more than deserves them.

"No, Kate, you're right."

Moving to the table he starts brushing the puzzle back into the box.

"Last night.... it's not like there's anything I coulda done if you'd gotten me up anyways. Dave's handlin' it same as I would've so... "

He shakes his head and drops the box on top of the table, glancing back at her.

"I can't be mad about that, an' I ain't. I just... I don't even know."

She doesn't know what to say, either.

Throat tight and eyes burning, she crosses the room and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

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