officer penni brooks

Ben sat frozen in his chair, blue eyes helplessly watching Penni as she buried her face in her hands; he knew that she was crying, has heard it enough times from his own younger sister and more recently, Florence, but the way Penni cried sounded more like a person in physical pain. 

He slowly got up, metal scraping the floor as he went over to her side of the table; Ben wasn’t sure to say, and anything beyond ‘sorry’ felt insincere– he wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for at this point. The reporter kneeled beside her, hand on her head before it slid down her back in an attempt at a comforting gesture.

“Penni, whatever it is, you can tell me.”It almost sounded laughable for those words to come from a reporter of all people but Ben continued in a coaxing tone. “If not me, then… someone. I just need you to be okay and I think– I think talking about whatever this is, will help.” 

His eyes caught the bright crimson stain seeping from the cracks of her fingers and Ben frowned. 

“Christ, you’re bleeding,” he pointed out, quickly grabbing the napkins on the table. Ben reached for her hands and he gently attempted to pull them away from Penni’s face so he could see what the hell was going on.

   An exhale full of hissing agony dribbled from her mouth, having enough of a brain to know she shouldn’t scream like she wanted to. Though nor should she have been crying in the first place. Her lip wobbled, sniffling, but not resistant to his tug of her hands from her face or to shift to sit sideways in her chair, facing him. The scab on the palm of her left hand luckily not what was bleeding.    “I want my parents.” She didn’t know how she choked any words out, gasping for breath at regular intervals till she’d stumble into grievous exhales again. She was certain that she must have looked and sounded hysterical, however. What kind of twenty-two year old cried raw for their mommy and daddy? She supposed everybody had parent issues in high school, and she was just late to the game.    The officer appreciated him though, the circular rubs on her back reminding her of that time her mother had stayed up with her sobbing about how she had been given a verbal warning in elementary school for talking too many times without raising her hand. It seemed awfully pathetic now, but she’d always been strictly terrified of authority raising so much as a finger in her direction. Her nose had bled then too, wheezing and sobbing in her mom’s bed. Nosebleeds were common for her, usually brought along by stress. Sometimes she’d hold her nose as she cried, and others she waited till her bed-sheets were sufficiently stained and her calmed to clean up.    “I really need my Momma.” This time she wasn’t talking about Ben, whether he’d thought so or not. Funny, for all her wants for relatives, she didn’t have any pictures up and she hadn’t squeezed anybody’s hand for support like Ben’s for years.    The way she wheezed in meant she had more to say, but her eyes were closed and her blood kept dribbling from her nose, nearly being swallowed along with salty tears. She did not want to look at him, not that she could focus on the worried expression on his face. The blonde faced him with what he’d asked for far after he’d expressed his answer about her parent. “But they disowned me. It’s like I don’t even exist. All,” her breath hitched whilst sucking in the scent of flowers in her apartment, “all because I wanted to be an officer.”

        “Nah, I won’t. I just told you all about it so it wouldn’t be fun anymore,” he says and smiles. He can tell she’s not enjoying the drink but he decides not to say anything about it. It’s odd, to have her as company now, in the middle of the night, drinking beer — Penni, the police officer who’s busted him for loitering and basically breaking into places he should be in, Penni, who’s in church all the time, like he used to. It’s odd, but at the same time it’s nice, too. Even if they’re not talking about anything serious.

        “It’s cool, I could use some company,” he tells her. He wasn’t planning on it, but he figures that it couldn’t hurt. It’s better than staying here by himself (maybe even accidentally passing out here; not because he’s drunk but because he’s tired) or going home to hang out there, by himself as well. “No reason. I was just walking around and this was the closest when I figured I wanna sit down. It’s not that bad of a place, you know? Quiet and not as creepy as you would’ve thought.”

       “Shouldn’t you be asleep, though? Don’t you guys start work, like, really fucking early? I work late shifts, what’s your excuse?”

   “No, it’s definitely as creepy as I thought.” Less so with company, but she wouldn’t admit him right. Her expectations were pretty damn high too, having never visited this place under the embrace of the dark. She’d come with her parents to pay respects, and sometimes by herself, but never as much as she should have.    The blonde had no problem holding a smile despite her failings -- and the joke that hadn’t sounded much like one, and as she tugged her knees up onto the bench and sat facing him, twisting in her overalls to lean her elbow and arm against the back of the bench. She clearly mulls over his following questions, though all she really does is issue a shrug. “Uhm, kind of. A couple people have to work the calls through the evening now, but yeah. I mean, people generally work the same times and we aren’t really open to the public at night. It’s not that early. As long as I’m in by six thirty then I’m set for the day.” Then again, ten’o’clock was late for her -- though none of it gave her an excuse. “What? Am I just not allowed to be up at night now or something?”

        “There’s always first time for everything. And there’s that saying that goes don’t knock it until you try it, right? Though, I think I’d be garbage at yoga,” he shrugs and there’s a small smile on his lips. He remembers that once upon a time, his physical therapist suggested he should try it, be good for your body, and all that but Forbes never used that piece of advice. Maybe he will have to, if things continue to be so fucked up for them. 

       He listens and then comes to the conclusion that he really doesn’t know what to say. The second someone starts talking about God and judging and all that stuff, he’s not sure if he wants to continues listening, especially now that all that stuff they’re dealing with is so closely connected to faith. The more stuff they discover, the less religious or spiritual he feels. Kinda like he did years ago when the stuff with Lourdes happened. Talk to him about God punishing people, and you lose him. But he tries now, he has to, because it’s Penni. He’s not about to be an asshole to her.

       “It ends when we get the pieces of shit who are behind all of this. And we will get them,” he puts emphasis on the words, not only for her, but for himself, too, as if he needs to reassure himself that he’s actually telling the truth. “I really don’t know what breaking the commandments has to do with anything but… it happens when home becomes unsafe, you don’t feel like it’s home anymore and you’d rather get out of there and look for a new place to stay. But you don’t have to, you can try and make home safe again. And that’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna figure this shit out, make things go back to normal.”

   The image of Husky trying to do yoga had nearly distracted her with laughter. Instead, she shrugs like she can brush it all off with just that and she does. Though she doesn’t feel the need to elaborate on her guilt, or what she touched on concerning it. But she isn’t sure if nabbing the men in white will make Wheeler feel like home again. Surely, the community will be better, but so many things happened since it shattered, that she’s not sure it’s that easy to be normal again. He is right about making Wheeler safe though. Doesn’t stop her from harboring doubt in his insistence they will catch the perpetrators.    “But some people have already left.” A cult in their hometown? She wouldn’t put it past her parents if they left, and she nearly wants to also. However, she’s aware that she signed a contract for the next two years with the Wheeler PD in exchange for the aid with tuition. “Have you ever lived somewhere else?” The public school system at Wheeler did a horrible job making anywhere else but home imaginable. Pine trees, for Christmas, were the craziest trees she’d seen. “Because, maybe Wheeler just isn’t home anymore. It’ll be hard to live here even when we do nab them. Don’t you think?”

Mads had stopped by the store for her usual weekly groceries and birth control pick up when she spotted Penni. Before Penni had seen her, she almost waved before noticing the tell all signs of a hangover. The red eyes, the sour face, what else could it be? Beaming as Penni saw her, Mads let her face fall into her usual smirk, with one eyebrow raised. at her. “Oh really now?” She chuckled softly, draping an arm around Penni’s shoulders. “Come on, babes. Let’s get you a real hangover cure.”

Swapping the Advil for Midol, Mads made sure to actually keep her voice down as she handed Penni her oversized sunglasses. “Midol’s got caffeine which helps. Plus, if they can cure cramps than hangover’s are no problem.” That was when she grabbed the pedialite too. “And this. You could get gatorade but pedialite is better for dehydration as well.” It was moments such as this that made some people realize how smart Mads could be- but to her, this was just routine. “Afterwards we’ll get something nice and greasy to eat. You can tell me about your wild night then- and also, you’re twenty-two. It’s more than legal, don’t you fret.”

   Dumb-founded as her mind trilled with pain, she had no problem watching Mads work her magic without uttering a word. Other times she might have cared, being dragged around and such, but running into her in the grocery store was likely good. The sunglasses were slowly placed on her nose after having stared at Mads with admiration. Sure, the collection of items were bound to be a big help, but what she really needed was a friend. It had just so happened that luck was on her side, and she was free of judgement, at least for now.    Nod after nod finally led to a smile, and room for her to talk. “Thanks. I just,” the blonde paused, smacked her lips, then let go of what thoughts only made things harder, “okay.” She couldn’t really explain how her heart sang with bliss, or how much Madeleine meant to her in a time like the present. “But I am going to get my own pair of sunglasses.”    Pedialite and Midol paired in her hands, she made a stop at the rotating stand. She couldn’t help feeling guilty wearing someone else’s sunglasses. Without a word, she’d reached for a kiddie pair, the sunglasses part preferable apparently by the ( impossibly cool ) way they could be flipped up. Penni did not hesitate in scrambling to exchange the pair she was borrowing on her face with the other, albeit small. Though she did snort with laughter and showboat them briefly, she admitted a smile that was tired and energized at the same time. However, she was glad she needn’t communicate with an extravaganza of words. “Maybe we should get matching.” The suggestion being half joking and at the same time, half deadly serious. 

He could see the tension gather in her shoulders and Penni looked almost afraid, like there was something dangerous with them in the room that he couldn’t see; Ben wanted to desperately know what it was that was going through her mind at that moment, pale-faced and trembling–what happened with her and the headless John Doe? 

“Penni,” he called out softly from across the small dining table. “I was just…teasing.” Ben let go of the cutlery, and couldn’t help but feel responsible for making her spiral. “I don’t mean anything by it,” it certainly wasn’t his intention to make Penni review all the sins she’s committed in her life and have her worry if she would be targeted next.

“What’s going on, Penni?”

   The blonde had already dove her face into her hands by the time he asked his question. Her body giving way to heaves of breath and air that shook it. Not to mention the sobs, the choking noises she made behind her hands/ Head bowed over her plate. The tension didn’t bother to recede when his words of clarification soaked in. Though she knew if she wasn’t careful she’d have a nosebleed.    Nonetheless, she wanted to explain. But how did she even start? With that God tried to off her that afternoon? Disrespecting her parents, engaging in homosexuality, being a woman in a man’s world. She should have been dead. And then that sinner had to pull her to the side of the road with his rotten eyes and grimy hands. If God wanted her gone, she should have been gone. Not here having a breakdown in front of Wheeler’s top reporter. He didn’t care anyway, and she supposed she was lucky she hadn’t said anything more yet. Someone like him wouldn’t miss a story, even one that was so vividly tangled in her personal life.    She didn’t know if she was trying to say something when her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her shoulders trembled and her enchilada was likely subject to the tears that had slipped between her fingers. Penni was an ugly crier. She already knew that ( basically the entire PD did by now ). Loud and wheezing, she sounded like she was in pain, but she had so many things to cry about. And even when her fingers did drift to feel the dampness from her nose hoping it wouldn’t be her blood, she knew that it was as soon as the warmth touched her fingers.

Lauren sighed in relief, muttering a quiet “Thank the lord” under her breath. No active threat meant that the vigil could still continue as planned, though a threat would be a spicy addition to her chapter. Part of her wanted nothing more than to pawn the hymnals off on anyone else and pull out her notebook and pen. But that would be tacky and inappropriate. Writing could wait until the books were all handed out and the vigil was well under way. “I understand. But would there ever really be a good time to hold a vigil? I think pushing it back would defeat the purpose of helping the community grieve and cope with what’s been happening. Besides, we have Wheeler’s finest such as yourself here to protect us.”

   She should have known that a woman with as much faith as Lauren wouldn’t have listened to her. Her reluctance nearly made Penni jealous, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. She supposed that she just wished she could not be terrified of sitting in this church, whether like a sitting duck or only in general. Something about it made her sick, even when she knew she should have only been sick with herself for what she’d done and not the church.    Nonetheless, the blonde found herself at a loss. She wanted to reiterate, reason that if the blackout hadn’t been planned prematurely, then how much more could be harbored for the vigil? Not to mention, Officer Brooks didn’t see many, if any other officers yet.    “I guess you’ve got a point.” She always did that: bared a smile and showed her belly. The flattery likely helped too, but her gaze still traveled towards Lauren’s son, and she couldn’t help thinking that this was bullshit, this vigil should not have been happening under any circumstances. “But, do be prepared, please. Otherwise, uhm, do you have any idea who should be speaking? I should probably check in with all of them.”

   The scattered glances that Penni sent about the church were not meant to zero in on Faith. In fact, she was looking for a different blonde. Then there was her mother’s new brunette hair as her eyes made laps to search for her parents. They had to be coming, but at what time she was not certain. After all, they liked to blatantly disrespect the establishment that had hired her. Attending the vigil was the easiest move in the book on their part. However, where they were was a mystery to her. Hell, they could have moved out of her childhood home, and she would not come to know about it until months later.     If she’d paid better attention, then she wouldn’t have wandered towards the front in the midst of her manhunt nor crane her neck to find that her first kiss was on her right. She was no natural at lying, or playing pretend. The position in which she’d stopped in her tracks said enough. Though people no doubt noticed, deceit was part of their condition at this point. Being best friends with the pastor’s daughter meant that the eyes that were suctioned to her could have a good look at you too. She could feel the people behind her back, scoffing at her uniform and the fact she’d once again shown up without her parents like she’d been doing for three years now. They still thought she defied the fifth commandment of her own will, and to think, she was still the beautiful blonde’s best friend. She had half a mind to think that what had happened at the carnival had something to do with why she had not been dropped so quickly when she went crying to Faith about how her parents kicked her out.     She knew how much these people’s opinions meant to both of them, but Faith especially. Nonetheless, it was difficult to bother anything more than a stare at the illustrious face that she hadn’t dared to find for the past two weeks. 

“You saw the dead man…” Ben echoed, confusion evident in his tone. Of course, Penni would see the dead man, she was a deputy and would have responded to the call. But when the girl clarified what she meant, the reporter paused and stared.

“You saw him alive? When?” He was only able to interview Petey Shanley and as far as the reporter knew, Wheeler PD was unable to ID the dead man. Granted, he had no proof and it wasn’t like he was privy to their investigation. Ben quickly shook his head at Penni’s concern, reassuring her that the news about the headless corpse was already a done deal. He already secured the autopsy report and further write-ups would have to wait until the LEOs or the mayor himself issued a statement.

“I’m not gonna get you fired, Penni,” though he can’t say for sure about the other one. “John Doe was killed because he was a voyeur, I think, or something,” Ben shared; it was just his own theory since nobody can really prove the claims on the note. But if the reporter was to base it off on what was present at the crime scene then the act had a religious angle to it. They were punishing the man. “Those culprits branded him a sinner. You haven’t done anything grave haven’t you?”

   The officer slunk back into her chair, staring into the dark liquid in the cup to draw her emotions back. While her coworkers had described the process different ways, of distancing themselves from their job, she came to think of it as a shower curtain reeled out and in whenever she deemed it best. Right now she wasn’t good at it, still working at it. She just needed to learn how to use the curtain effectively and to not soak the floor. If she stayed very still and stared long and hard at something, it tended to work. But often she couldn’t sit still. The difficulty in perfecting it evident in the breath she’d inhaled — the telling way in which her nostrils flared.    Did he know how hard it was to view someone alive, and then just as quickly dead? No, she doubted it, but she supposed she was lucky he hadn’t bled out in front of her. He was used to the morbidity of his job, and, inevitably, of life, because that was what he reported on. “Around two, the day before the body, hours after we bought that mouthwash.” Mere minutes after she’d fled from the mirror maze. Seconds after that semi nearly crushed her.    She swallowed once, then decided she would take a big gulp of her wine. It went down smoother this time, but burned nonetheless. Her jaw set so rigid that she could feel a headache coming on. She had meant to agree, tell him that he was homeless, blind, grimy, guilty, horrifying. Her chin flew up before she could, eyes swimming with terror. All because of his question. The shower curtain was not set up correctly, or maybe he was just trying to level her into tears? They were certainly building up in her eyes.    “Grave?” She repeated, having sat up and set the cup to the side. Her enchilada had still yet to be touched, fork and knife not moved. Her mind screamed ( she kissed a girl, she kissed a girl, she kissed a girl ), and she could not tell whether he heard it or not. “What do you mean by grave?” She couldn’t help but panic, driven back to the mosaic reflection she’d seen of herself in her parent’s wine rack remains, the warped reality of the carnival mirrors, even the deeply red copy of her face in the drink she’d just set down.

“Don’t worry about it. This is why the church brought extras. And I think most every has hymnal by now so you might even be lucky enough to get your own copy.” Lauren frowned at Penni’s next suggestion. From a just a parishioner her words would be kind advice offered to a friend. But from an officer in uniform, it almost felt like she knew something. “Why? Did the police get a threat? Should we spread the word to everyone else? I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I left early and didn’t warn everyone and something ended up happening.”

   Consciously, she refrained from pulling the book to her chest, blocking herself in and putting up some wall. She was normally excitable, eager to be there. Church had been somewhere that Penni could let herself run free and not be criticized. Now it did feel like a prison, but the people would always feel welcoming despite it. Which is what made her feel horrible for worrying Lauren. She only wanted to make sure that the little boy the mother had brought with her was safe.    “No, no. There’s no threat.” The blonde flashed a smile meant to reassure her, but she got the feeling that now that she’d mentioned the sickness afflicting the town as of late, there was no more pretending like everything was fine. “But, we don’t know what could happen tonight. Especially since we were hoping the vigil could be rescheduled for another time.” That and then there was the religious references in the recording, the note, the body. The stag head, the crow. To plan something so ballsy as a vigil was incredibly dangerous, especially when little kids like Lauren’s son attended. “You understand what I mean, right?”

        “Yeah, why not?” Syd shrugs — now is the perfect time for it. He’s got the day off tomorrow so he can sleep in for as long as he wants to, so that means he can stay out till probably the buttfuck of dawn. He probably won’t spend the whole night here, he’s not that crazy and the cemetery still gives him the creeps, as much as it may not seem like it right now. He’ll probably end up wandering around the creek, he does that a lot lately, mostly because people are too scared to go to the parts of the town which are usually empty, free of other people. While the town prefers to stick together, Syd prefers to stick out, staying clear of everyone. Like he usually does, and like everyone else usually does, too. 

        He grabs a fresh can of beer, opens it and hands it to Penni. Moments later, his fingers wrap around his own drink, though there’s less than half left. He takes a huge gulp, so there’s only some left at the bottom. He shrugs again but then there’s a smile on his face. “Yeah, I think I’m about to set some things on fire. Seems like a good night for it,” he says. Now that he’s said it, he totally feels in the mood for playing with fire but then he’s not gonna do that after telling that to Penni, even as a joke. “I’m just chilling. Wanted to spend some time alone outside. Better question is, why are you out so late? You guys doing out of uniform night patrols now?”

   A gentle smile enveloped her face, dimples showing, lips pulled up. Penni had come to terms with the fact that Syd was human a year or two after the rumors and confirmation. She wasn’t like Cricket or Faith; all sinners be damned or whatever. ( Though look at her now, searching for any way to criminalize and leave her best friend behind her after their accident. Everyone else was free of her harsh judgement except for herself and inevitably, the people she valued more than herself. ) Besides, Syd was nice — he always had been, even as an upperclassman to her underclassman. However, she is more weary of the other that he does. The refusal to attend church, the drinking, the aimless life he appears to lead. But as long as it is pitch black save the flashlight and street lights, no one will see who she so simply befriended and they can keep this budding friendliness unknown to anybody but the cold, isolated moon.    “Please don’t do that,” the blonde squeaks, beer now in hand and hesitantly popped open. Her parents had offered her beer, just a sample, but she’d never liked it. It was a men thing, as was most things she inherently avoided. When she takes a sip, her nose wrinkles and eyes squeeze closed while having half a mind to hide the little of her face she can behind the can. “Sorry for interrupting then.” She takes a second, let’s the apology sink in as does the aftertaste. How does he do it? Best the can with a big gulp? Not something that she’d actually ever ask.    “Around the cemetery, sure. Suspicious persons running about; can’t be too careful. Besides, the dead are the easiest to rob.” All a lie, but a decent one. Something that she prepared before hand. Truly, she came to visit her grandmother after another restless slumber. She thought there might be some solace in delivering herself to the graveyard and paying respects. “Any reason you picked as creepy a location as the cemetery?” The smalltalk makes her happy, though her dimples had since disappeared. 

Armed with a basket of candles and a soft smile, Cricket was glad to see the turnout for the vigil was so strong. She couldn’t understand why the police were so against it - after all, God clearing up the storm was obviously a sign that He wanted it to go on. It had seemed like Cassie had fallen to the background of so many people’s thoughts, and the woman couldn’t help but believe this would get people’s minds, hearts, and prayers in the right place.  And the number of people who showed up only encouraged her. 

Her lavender umbrella was hooked around her wrist (just in case) and her hair was pinned up in a bun that seemed to have been hairsprayed within an inch of its life to keep from moving in the breeze that still blew, Cricket handed a candle to someone who just walked in.  “Thank you so much for coming,” she said, “I know that the Kleins appreciate it. It’s been so hard for them lately, and I can only imagine how heartwarming it is for them to see they still have this much support.”

   It was odd to walk into the church dressed in her uniform. She was usually decked in her Sunday’s best, consisting of a Baptist conservative sundress or something very similar under her white winter coat adorned with sunflowers and painted by her mother’s hand. The twenty-two year-old avidly attended church, sermons, vigils; whatever made her stick in rather than out. But she felt betrayed by the blue she was in. Becoming a police officer was the only known deviation anybody knew from the wildly traditional christian beliefs she’d inherited from her parents. The parents she had hoped to see today, but she could not come to terms with that not even they were religious enough to walk right into a trap.     Cricket Carroll was though; rather brave or ignorant, Penni did not know. But she was here. Someone that she avoided usually, but only because she was terrified of the woman’s judgement. To be at the mercy of a queen among mere Wheelerites was something scarcely comfortable.     “Y-yes, of course!” She nearly cursed herself for the stuttering aloud, but she was glad to have caught her mouth opening. The only thing was that she hadn’t anything to say, though she felt the need to speak instead of snap her lips back closed. “You haven’t happened to see my parents around have you? Have you heard if they’re coming?” Her mother had known Cricket quite well back when Penni still talked to her, but whether or not they were still friends was beyond her knowledge.

The Vigil Time: 7:10 PM

Lauren stood at the foot of the steps leading up to town hall, a stack of black leather bound books tucked neatly under one arm. Evan clung to his father’s leg as he made idle chit chat with another parishioner and the girls lay tucked into their beds at home under the watchful eye of Grandma, (who had strict instructions to text her updates, including pictures, every thirty minutes). An unassuming brown purse decorated with beads was strung across her chest, packed full of goldfish, juice boxes, and a spiral bound notebook and ball point pen. The first page was titled “How to Talk About Grief with Your Kids.” The tenth page was titled, “Chapter __: Grieving in a Small Town.”

Hazel eyes scanned across the crowd, looking for anyone not yet holding a hymnal. She sent a quick prayer of thanks up to the church for providing the perfect blogging and novelling cover. Her eyes homed in on an unsuspecting townsperson and she stepped forward with a smile and an outstretched book. “Hi, I’m so glad you could make it. Have you gotten a hymnal yet? We’ve already bookmarked the hymns we’re planning to sing so you don’t have to worry about fumbling through the pages as the sun goes down.”

   This was insane, and yet she was here willingly, desperate to pretend like nothing had happened within the past couple months. Some might call it cognitive dissonance, and others, such as Penni herself, labeled it ignorance on her part. All while another deep, quiet part of her whispered that they would need her in her two and a half month old uniform and blonde bun. After having a look at the police report of the homeless man firsthand, she was terrified, and rightly so. But she hoped that since the PD had been left out of the massive voice memos sent out, that her presence at the church would ward anyway any evildoers.     In the meantime, she’d forgotten her personal book of hymns. Left perhaps under her bed or on her kitchen counter. She was eager to accept the one Lauren held out to her, despite knowing she might need easy access to the items strapped to her belt.     “No, no I would have brought one myself, but . . I came straight from work.” She beamed, as best as she could knowing of the past, horrific occurrences. She knew Lauren too: a woman with kids, a husband, and really not much older than her. She was everything Penni’s parents had expected her to be -- minus the blog. You know, the one she couldn’t help but peek at every morning like it was the newspaper. “Thank you, so much. I really appreciate it. Though, I really hate to say it -- I think it’d be best if your family leaves before the vigil is over.” What sheepish smile she offered at the suggestion was warped with concern -- not nearly a good look for a police officer to be sporting at such an occasion. 

       The shooting range is not a place that Forbes frequents, mostly because he doesn’t like shooting guns all that much in the first place. Sure, every once in a while he’ll come by, mostly to practice and make sure his aim isn’t off. Other than that, there’s usually a bunch of different things he can find to do on a Sunday morning. But he’s promised Penni he was gonna go and do whatever she wanted and he’s keeping his word.

         “I told you, it’s fine. If this is what you need to wind down, it’s okay with me,” he reassures her. He figures she chose the shooting for the sake of feeling safer and Forbes really can’t blame her — between what’s happened around town on the night of the blackout (his shoulder still feels sore from when he got hit with a brick, but the bruising is almost gone) and the voicemail that everyone but them got, it’s impossible to think of themselves and, frankly, anyone in town, as safe. Forbes wishes he knew how to fix that (he knows — solve the goddamn case, but it’s easier said than done). “Yeah, you don’t strike me as a yoga person, either. Maybe this is just more like your thing.”

         Forbes stares at her for a long while before he speaks again. “Hey, is everything okay with you? You seem off. And not just— you know, off how everyone in town is now off. Something happened?”

   Wind down wasn’t the word; it was more like the shooting range was winding her up, but she wasn’t about to correct him. This was beneficial, to her at the very least. He was free to beg to differ, but at least she felt like she was doing something that might help in the long-run. After all, everything right now depended on them solving some shit that just kept escalating, and everything was escaping them. To think that in some reality the PD had everything under control seemed like bullshit.    “You know, I never saw myself as a person who visited shooting ranges . . or as a police officer. So maybe I could be a yoga person. I don’t know.” She glanced towards him, pinching the skin of her bottom lip between her fingers before she can register the candid concern in his stare. Then she’s brought back to remember when she had broken down in front of him. It feels too long ago to have really happened, but she’s well aware it did. For a few moments, she searches the dark floor beneath them and the bench, breathing in a breath and nodding.    “Everything’s fine. It’s just,” she swallows, the sparse smile she had possessed slipping from her reach, “God can only forgive for so long, but He’s judge, jury, and executioner. Everything’s just going to shit.” She wasn’t entirely truthful, but it was the short explanation. God was not the only reason she looked back with such remorse. Her words, however, fell hushed. “There’s a dead man, for Joseph’s sake! And . . I haven’t broken any of the ten commandments, but --” how many sins was too much? Kissing a girl, blatantly withholding information from the PD, abandoning her parents. “When does it end?” When she saves the little girl and puts a bullet in the cult’s head? “Wheeler has always been home, you know? Now, it isn’t really.”

“Flowers may be your forte, Penni, but your lying could use some work,” Ben casually remarked as he worked to open the wine sans a corkscrew. He would have been more delicate in calling out the young deputy’s fumbling but the light struggle in using his house key made him forego that simple decency. Still, if the girl refused to tell him anything, she must have her reasons, like how easily Ben got the information for the forensic report. Penni was a fast learner in that regard at least.

Ben poured the wine into the plastic cups and he glanced over at Penni to check if she needed help taking the food out of the oven. Bright flowers decorated most of her apartment, giving the space an earthy but sweet scent, though at the moment, with the enchiladas cooking, it was easily overpowered by the food.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” the reporter assured her as he waited for her to take a seat across him. “I’m off duty, Penni, and it’s not like I write everything that I hear in this town,” Ben finished with a small laugh. If he did, he would be running the gossip column instead, but Susan already has that covered with her lunchtime chatter with the rest of their colleagues.

   She didn’t know if he was looking for a reaction, grasping for some expression of frustration to hold over her head. Or so that he may chastise and click his tongue, as though she was proving some point of his. But upon patiently pulling the enchiladas out of the oven with her mittens, she was relieved to find that it was not actually her father, only Ben. Though he did sound like it; perhaps that was why she had been inclined to scream at him on the sidewalk, or cook him dinner.   Silently, she made her way over to the table, a sarcastic smile donning her lips before he kept talking. The glassware clunked as she set it down between the two plates. “I saw the dead man.” It came sputtering out when she let the breath she’d been holding out, interrupting his quipped laughter. She shared a look with him, pensive when she instead focused on forking one onto his plate and then moved onto hers. “I saw him alive -- well, and dead too.” Did her spacey stares make sense now, when she did not seemed interested in what was going on in front of her? She wondered if it all made her look like any more mature. Because it had already been a long time since she’d truly been a kid.   And somehow she wasn’t crying this time she thought about it, but she seemed less intent on the food dished in front of her now that her chair had squeaked beneath her when she sat. Her fingers swept towards the cup that he had poured, drawing it towards her to realize he had filled their cups quite high. The drink she swigged from it was more of a sip. Though she still cringed following the sweet yet sour taste of the wine. When she did decide to cradle it in her hands, blue eyes were back on him. And briefly she wondered if he had ever fucked up as bad as she had so far. “So, you won’t write about it, right? You have to promise to keep your mouth zipped. Or . . everything will come back on me -- and I’m already scared beyond my wits, Ben. I don’t know if I’d be fired or killed first.” She had no doubt he’d seen the dead guy too, and at the very least the pictures. If he said a word, she wondered how creative they’d dare to get with her. 

        Admittedly, sitting outside the cemetery with a six pack of beer doesn’t make all that much sense given the current circumstances in town, but Syd wanted to waste some time, bum around. The current location is purely coincidental (but also kinda ironic), the bench outside the gate was just the closest place to sit down when Syd’s decided he wants to settle and chill. And drink. 

        With his legs pulled up to his chest, he opens up a second can and takes a large swig from it, eyes scanning his surroundings. It’s not that late, it’s just before midnight, but he’s still surprised to see someone approaching. “Wanna join? Crack open a cold one?”

   A graveyard sweep wasn’t something that police officers often did, especially out of uniform, but Penni had straightened up a lie well before her visit. Something she had gotten good at doing; something to be proud of and frustrated at all the same. Lying on the spot would always be a problem, but if she could think ahead, well, she’d be as good at lying as her father.    Though the voice earns a bright glare of her flashlight in his direction, having been nothing but surprised by him. The squeak she sounds is more like a gasp, and her heart is happy to have a moment of solace in finding that he is not dressed in white and it is only Syd Callahan. Someone she’d forgotten.    “Now?” She asks, but who is she to argue? After the past week’s events, her mind has only been on the possibility of alcohol since her dinner with Ben. So, she crumples into the bench, facing him in her bright yellow overalls and white shirt scattered with daisies while the flashlight dips to illuminate the dirt. It was too long ago when she promised that she would not lay a finger on a drop of alcohol; some little girl who was too naive and innocent to know what 2019 would bring. “Yeah, okay. What are you doing drinking out here so late? Not up to any crimes . . right?”

date: july 2019 ( pre-blackout ) location: flow’s flowers open

It wasn’t often that she sat outside the shop. Most of the time, she remained among the flowers, tucked in the back meticulously creating flower arrangements. But today the sun was shining, and with a cool breeze chasing away the heat, she dragged a stool outside with a few batches of flowers. Slowly a line of intertwined flowers grew, and when it was the right time, she tied the ends together and placed the new crown upon her head. An example, perhaps a poor one, of a simple skill. And as she continued creating new ones, different combinations of flowers turning into crowns of soft glory, she placed them all in a perfect row beside her.

A sense of calm attempted to settle over her. But the nagging sense of fear, for this town, for herself, would not dissipate. And she didn’t think it would ever truly leave.

Licking her lips, she tucked stray strands of hair behind her ear and dove into another crown. It wasn’t until she sensed footsteps on the sidewalk that she looked up, a small smile gracing her features.

“Have a flower crown for the day, if you’d like. I know there’s not too many, so if you’d like to make a request, I will create a custom one for you, free of charge.”

   The walk home from a long morning of work was not without its beauties. One of those always being Flow’s Flowers. However, it did not mean that the blistering summer heat did not cause her to miss her bicycle. She could have been home by now, surrounded by an army of fans to keep her cool; nonetheless, missing out on a chance for a crown of flowers. No doubt, she’d be a fool if she chose the former.     “How about for three bucks?” Her lips had split into a smile, fishing for her wallet somewhere in the tote bag that carried her uniform, weapon, flashlight, and somewhere in it, cash. “I’d only feel guilty if I didn’t pay you anything. Do you have any gardenias? Maybe some daffodils too?” She paused whilst searching, her hand having closed around her billfold to tug it out with her tired, worn eyes making her appear no less energetic. “Or, why don’t you just surprise me? Throw together something? I’m not picky, I swear!”     It was not long before she had pulled out the three dollars she had offered, holding them out towards the Rosalie expectantly. She didn’t care whether she knew her or not, in fact, Penni would have been likely to offer more money if she did know Rosalie. And at the very least, she knew the woman’s face from long hours spent in church.