Chapter Text
The cold bus window her temple was pressed against kept her alert throughout most of the long journey. That, and the loud, asphyxiating thoughts crowding her brain.
It was summer, but the weather seemed to reflect her mood: a fierce wind shook the branches of the few trees at the corners of the busy bus station, and grey clouds filled the sky.
She’d made the conscious decision to sit at the very back of the bus, in an effort to avoid any kind of contact with other travelers – Nicole Haught was in no mood for small talk and polite smiles, let alone noise and consequent annoyance on her part.
So she had grabbed her black duffel bag, containing most of her possessions, and marched straight to the last row of seats, shooting threatening glances at anyone who looked like they might be thinking about approaching her or the empty space at her left.
She probably didn’t look too intimidating at first glance; that morning she’d lazily put on the first clothes she could find, which happened to be a pair of light grey sweats, a plain, old, black t-shirt and sneakers.
And yet, the exhausted look on her face, matched with her stern expression, did the trick just fine.
Her eyes flickered around at her surroundings, uninterestedly; she could see the driver in the little mirror pointed at the passengers – he had dark, black, curly hair, with some slight patches of grey coming in, and he was wearing a plain, light-blue button up shirt; he looked about as happy to be there as Nicole did.
Then, her gaze moved to the bus seats, unmistakably emanating a vague smell – probably of something bad and dead you don’t want to learn more about - and covered in that dumb, colored pattern you find on every damn bus. Four rows in front of her were a young man with blonde hair and green eyes, and a woman, noticeably older than him; they were immersed in what appeared to be a lively conversation, but she didn’t care enough to try and listen.
What she was really seeing, beyond the people or the bus, or even beyond the green stretches of land on either side of them, was the vision that had been tormenting her for the past four months.
Every waking moment felt like a never ending nightmare, her mind clouded with the images of that terrible day that had drastically changed the course of her life.
She’d tried to make it stop; she’d done the therapy, and the medicines, and the exercise…but it just wouldn’t work.
Sleeping didn’t help either; she usually only managed to get in a couple of hours of sleep, before she woke up screaming, her body tense and sweaty, her heart beating so furiously she often thought it was trying to burst out of her chest.
So she sat there, bored and tired, but determined not to fall asleep, too scared of causing a scene.
Outside, infinite plots of abandoned land adorned the scenery; it was obvious no one had tended to them in years, overgrown roots and small piles of garbage on every corner, but, in a way, they still had some kind of beauty to them. Green, and alive, and resiliently standing up to cold weather and human stupidity – there was an inherent strength there that Nicole wishes she could revive in herself.
A sign on the highway informed her that they were still quite far from their final destination, and a sigh escaped her lips. Time seemed to be moving at an agonizingly slow pace on this deathtrap of a vehicle.
The bus was then suddenly swallowed by a tunnel, the darkness enveloping them forcing her to face her own reflection in the window: her lack of rest was evident in the dark circles under her brown eyes, and her lips looked chopped from all the biting she’d been subjecting them to.
This person looking back at her didn’t look much like Nicole Haught…the only part of her kept intact was her auburn hair, somehow still vibrant despite the total absence of care. That reminded her of Shae, and how she always used to say “You’re way too level-headed for a redhead, you’re supposed to be wild!”; except when Nicole did actually become kind of a fuckup, the woman she’d spent the last two years with hadn’t known how to act and left her.
Nicole couldn’t blame her, though. She barely knew how to keep up with herself these days.
With her eyes being blinded by the sunlight again, she grabbed her phone and briefly considered texting Shae, letting her know she left town to move to the middle of fucking nowhere, to tell her she understood but still missed her, to ask her how she was.
Ultimately, however, she decided against it; if this was to be a fresh start, she had to let go of her past, and as much as it hurt to admit it, that’s what her ex-girlfriend was part of.
They had been happy together, as long as things were easy and fun. They had travelled to stunning places, gone on possibly all the hiking trails surrounding the city, beautifully furnished their apartment on the third floor of the white building on Yonge Street, visited museums and art galleries, played tennis doubles with their friends on the weekend and hosted dinners and get-togethers at their place.
But when shit got real, their relationship couldn’t stand the test of hardship, and at the end of the day, that was okay. It had been hard, but Nicole had made peace with the fact that maybe they just weren’t meant to be.
What was she meant to be, then? Who was she meant to be? That, she didn’t know. Not anymore, at least. She used to have it all figured out: a career she was proud of and passionate about, a home to get back to after long, exhausting days at work, a woman who made her happy…she used to know.
“Mommy, look! We’re here!” – a child shouted from the front rows, bringing her back to reality.
She lifted her head and was met with a view that made her heart sink: the welcoming sign for the town of Purgatory was looking back at her; four people, sat in a car, perpetually smiling and waving at those approaching the area in a way that could only be described as horrifying. At the bottom of the sign, were the words “You’ll never want to leave!”.
Nicole audibly scoffed at that; she hadn’t even stepped foot into this godforsaken place and she already had a strong sense it was going to be dreadful; not only was the police work required of her most likely only going to be consisting of paperwork and driving drunks home during the weekend, she was also everything small town people tended to hate: a ginger, gay, strong-willed woman with PTSD working as a cop.
Moving here literally sounded like a recipe for disaster.
It had been her only shot at getting back on the field, though, and she’d been desperate enough to take the chance.
She remembered the moment when the decision was made perfectly; she closed her eyes, and it felt like she could see it happening all over again right in front of her.
She was sitting in Dr. Lucado’s office, again, for probably the hundredth time in two months. The room always made her nervous, much like the therapist sitting behind the mahogany desk. The exposed-brick walls, adorned with countless certificates of academic titles, always intimidated her; sure, the Department had sent her there to be evaluated – she knew that from the get-go – but there was something deeply unsettling about realizing just how vulnerable this whole situation made her.
And Jeannie...well, she always did her best, and Nicole knew she was just trying to help, but the way she looked at the redhead with such pity unnerved her to no end.
During that last session, Nicole had been actively downplaying how miserable she was - she just wanted to get back to her actual job so badly, certain that sitting in an office all day was actually making things worse for her. Needless to say, Lucado saw right through her and her badly delivered lines.
“Officer Haught…I understand this is hard for you. But we will not be making any progress if you just lie to me.” Her voice was slightly harder than usual that day, which threw Nicole off a bit.
“I’m not lying…” – she tried.
“You really need to up your acting game if you ever want to be considered for under-cover work” – the therapist replied dryly.
Nicole sighed heavily, her eyes looking everywhere except at the woman in front of her; finally, her gaze stopped on the plant on her right. The doctor had explained to her during one of her first sessions that it was called a “Bird of Paradise”, which she thought was pretty ironic for a plant sitting in a shrink’s office.
She took a big breath and started to say her piece, hoping it would land her something better than what she had right now – admittedly not a very hard task, considering how shit of a time she was having. Her eyes never left the bright green leaves, almost as if her desperate plea was directed at them.
“Look, I know I’m not in the best shape. But I know that if there’s something that would help, it’s getting out there again. This is what I do, it’s what I’ve always wanted to do. And I know that he…I know that Dolls would have wanted this for me. I understand that this is going to take time, but I’m sure that this desk duty situation is only slowing things down.”
She slowly exhaled, daring a quick glance in the blonde’s direction. The therapist remained silent for a long time, probably pondering the redhead’s words.
After what felt like hours to Nicole, she finally spoke up. “Active duty as you used to do it is out of the question. You know better than me how it is in this city; it’s too much and I won’t let you do that to yourself just yet.”
A protest was already forming on Nicole’s lips, when Lucado’s voice filled the silence again. “However, there might be another option…”
“Anything. I’ll do anything” – promptly came the officer’s response.
“I can’t just throw you back into the line of duty, but I think it could be beneficial to rather…ease you into it. I’ll sign the papers to have you back on the streets, but you’d have to move somewhere smaller, quieter…some place you can slowly get your confidence and stability back, without fear of being triggered continuously or make mistakes you won’t be able to fix.”
Nicole was finally able to look up and hold the woman’s gaze for longer than two seconds.
She went over the idea in her mind; it definitely felt like it would be a downgrade, a misstep in her otherwise brilliant career. And she loved the city, she really did.
But she couldn’t survive being in the office anymore, and if this was what it’d take, she was willing to make that sacrifice. Plus, she was aware that her struggles in the past months were heightened, in a way, by the fact that every street, every park, every landmark, every single little thing seemed to be constantly reminding her of all that she’d lost.
So she nodded, and tried to convey all of her resolve when she answered: “I can do that, Ma’am.”
So here she was now, alone in a bus full of strangers, on her way to a town she’d never been to.
Granted, she’d been in a similar position before; she’d left her parents’ house fresh out of high school, with no money and no idea where to go, pretty much alone.
Uncertainty wasn’t unusual for her, but her lone-wolf adventure as an 18 years old had felt exciting, thrilling even, a chance to rewrite her destiny. She’d felt free, hopeful, eager to take on the world.
This, on the other hand? This just felt absolutely terrifying.
After a couple more miles of having to endure a toddler jumping up and down and singing in excitement, the bus finally came to a stop.
“Alright folks!” – the driver’s voice came to her ears loud and clear, despite how far from her he was sitting – “We’re here. You can collect your stuff from the trunk. I’ll be leaving shortly so make it quick.”
She was among the first people to walk out, a pair of sunglasses shielding her from the June sun and her bag thrown unceremoniously over her right shoulder. The bus was parked on the right side of what appeared to be the main square; from where she stood, it was easy to spot a local café, a small supermarket, a western-style bar, and a bakery.
She looked around, trying to identify the person charged with escorting her to the police station; Purgatory’s Sheriff had sent her a very dry and concise email the day prior, that read pretty much like this: “Get off the bus and you’ll see Officer Tumbler, he’ll drive you. Sheriff RN”. She had been positively surprised reading the message, grateful that this man didn’t seem like the type who bothered with pleasantries, but rather someone who goes straight to the point – just like she liked.
That was largely the main reason she and Dolls had clicked, from the very first moment they got partnered up; they were friendly and liked to joke around every now and then, but mostly they both wanted to get the job done, fast and clean. No smudges, no inaccuracies, no egos.
Well, anyway…this Tumbler guy was late, apparently. Her irritation was only mild, though; this looked like the perfect occasion to get a good look.
That’s what her instructor back at the academy used to call an assessment. He always said: “Whenever you find yourself in an unfamiliar setting, it’s vital to get a good look and evaluate the situation.” She liked the exercises he made them do with that, mostly because she was naturally good at it; ever the perceptive observer, she always managed to guess who the criminal was, without fail, just through some good, old fashioned people-watching.
So she sat quietly on the sidewalk, crossed-leg and slightly lying back, her hands on the gravel sustaining her weight, and she just watched.
From the corner on her far right, that probably went into a secondary street, came a woman – blonde, around 60, 5’5, wearing a beige shirt under a purple cardigan; her hand was clutched around a blue plastic bag that read “Happy Paws”.
Her walking was slow and evenly paced, but her face betrayed some distress, along with how she regularly turned around to look over her shoulders. She suddenly turned left, sneaking into an alley so narrow Nicole hadn’t even noticed it at first, tucked away as it was between the supermarket and the adjacent café. The Officer leaned subtly to the right and smiled to herself; the woman fished a pack of Marlboro cigarettes out of the plastic bag and lit one up, all the while nervously looking around.
Man, this was fun.
Nicole redirected her gaze to the side of the road she was on; a young, skinny boy was walking rapidly towards her, a brunette woman following him and trying, to no avail, to talk to him. They both had very fair complexions and light-brown hair and it looked like they might be related.
“Tucker, please slow down.” – the woman panted. He completely ignored her and kept walking, his eyes fixed on the street and a disturbingly creepy expression on his face. The pair eventually turned right, walking out of her field of view…something told her this wasn’t the last she was going to see of this guy.
Her attention was then captured by a pickup truck making its way down the road, barely below the limit as far as she could tell without actually having a radar gun; the driver was a young man, probably around 24, brown hair, an arm thrown haphazardly out the window, while the other, covered in tattoos, controlled the steering wheel. Music was loudly playing on the stereo and a smug grin was painted across his face.
Nicole would have easily bet at least 100$ this guy was the local, dumb jock who still thought he was a big shot player despite literally not having won anything in years; every small town had someone like that, unfortunately.
Finally, a patrol car approached her and parked on the side of the road. It was a simple car, nothing too flashy; a white Ford Crown Victoria with the Purgatory Sheriff Department logo on the side, accompanied by the word “SHERIFF” in bold, black letters.
A man walked out of the driver seat; he was tall, slim, with short, brown hair, blue eyes and a clean face.
“I’m so sorry. I took the wrong way by mistake and it took forever to get back” – he said with an apologetic look.
Nicole eyed him curiously for a moment. “Aren’t you from here?” – she asked.
He smiled awkwardly. “Well, yes. I just got distracted, I guess. You’re Officer Haught, right?”
Well, that was great: a police officer who managed to get lost within a town literally smaller than her old neighborhood. She’d thought the name “Tumbler” was quite an unfortunate one, but perhaps it was just right for the man standing in front of her.
Ignoring her internal monologue about the officer’s incompetence, she extended her right hand. “Yes. And you must be Tumbler, right?”
He shook her hand, only wincing a little bit at her tight grip. “Please, call me Lonnie.”
They got into the car and made their way to the police station. Lonnie tried to make some small talk but Nicole cut him short every time; she might be in better spirits than when she was sitting on that bus, but she still wasn’t going to make conversation unless she absolutely had to.
Once they got there, she realized the place was pretty nice, better than she’d expected, to be honest. The front of the building was just about the right amount of professional without appearing intimidating, which was good. On the inside, the walls were painted a rather dark shade of blue, and the furniture looked old but decent. Overall, not a bad look.
Lonnie guided her to one of the two desks sitting in the main room, the one tucked in the left corner, and smiled. “This will be yours, so you can like put your stuff on it, if you want. Also, boss wants to see you. His office is that way” – he said, pointing his finger to a door just behind Nicole’s desk, the word “SHERIFF”, in gold, planted right in the middle of the glass.
For a moment, she felt nervous; this town might not be overrun by dangerous criminals for her to catch and this job might not be too thrilling or challenging, but it was going to be her job nonetheless. Meaning: she couldn’t fuck this up.
She took one long, steadying breath to get her nerves in check, and reminded herself who the hell she was. Her life had undoubtedly been sort of a shitshow lately, but if there’s one thing she just knew about herself, it was that Nicole Haught is a damn good cop: she’s attentive, caring, strong, a quick thinker and a good listener, a valuable team player but also efficient on her own.
Making a good impression was important, but it was more than manageable; with this in mind she purposefully stepped towards the office, knocking gently on the door.
“Come in” – came a rough, tired voice from the inside. Nicole obliged; sitting behind an old desk was a man around 60, with short brown hair and a well-trimmed moustache. His crinkled eyes looked up to her and he seemed to be contemplating something for a long while, before finally gesturing for her to take a seat.
Sitting down, she took a quick look at the room; to be fair, there wasn’t really much to take in, as the office was mostly bare, apart from a small deer head hanging on the wall between the two windows overlooking the station. She did notice, though, there was a couch sitting on the right side of the desk…why would he need a couch? Maybe this guy was way more dedicated than she’d anticipated and pulled all-nighters at the office? For some reason, the redhead doubted that.
“So, Officer Haught, I understand you had some kind of…incident, recently?” – he didn’t sound like he cared all that much, or at least not in an intrusive way, which made her relax a bit.
“Well, Sir, I wouldn’t say recently. It happened four months ago now.”
“I see…and you’re okay, yes?” – he was looking at her some kind of way she couldn’t really decipher, his right hand coming to lightly stroke his moustache.
“Yes, Sir” – she answered simply, trying to convince them both.
“Good. You’ll start tomorrow at 8. You can use one of the patrol cars to move around, while you find a car of your own. You’ll be staying at a house just down the street; the owner’s an old man and he agreed to lease it to you at a reasonable price, though I believe if you decide to stick around, he’ll probably sell it to you for a lot less than what it’s worth. It’s not big, but it’s a nice place. Everything clear?”
Taken aback by how fast this conversation was moving, she hesitated, but swiftly came back to her senses and muttered a “Yes, Sir.”
“We’ll talk shifts and stuff you should know tomorrow morning. You can go get settled now. Lonnie here is gonna drive you to your place.” He nodded at her and then immediately went back to his paperwork.
The officer got the hint that she was being dismissed and quickly thanked the Sheriff, before heading out. Her new colleague was sitting at his own desk, intently watching some video on his phone and smiling dumbly at it…Nicole truly couldn’t understand how he even passed the preliminary law enforcement exam, but he looked like a good enough person all in all, which ultimately is all she could ask for.
She cleared her throat, making him jump in his seat a little. “Oh, are you all done already?” – he asked, a little surprised.
She only nodded in response, vaguely aware in the back of her mind that Lonnie was the only person in this place of work who actually used more than two words to communicate. That made her smile; maybe this could work, maybe they could make a decent team.
The two of them walked back to the patrol car and Officer Tumbler drove quietly, probably having caught on the fact that Nicole wasn’t really a talkative person. She was grateful for the silence, as it allowed her to look at the street, memorize her new commute, and, of course, get a good look.
The drive to the house wasn’t long; as Nedley had already told her, it was just down the street from the police station. From the outside, the house looked rather nice; it had a small driveway, the front of it was painted a delicate light blue, while the doors, windows and the small porch out front were white.
Lonnie parked the car in the driveway and handed her two sets of keys. “Here’s keys for the house and the car. This baby is yours now, Haught. Treat her nice, okay?”
She jokingly rolled her eyes at him, but smiled to take the sting out of it. “Do you want me to drive you back?” – she offered, not wanting to take advantage of him.
“No it’s okay, I’ve been looking forward to this little walk all day. See you tomorrow!” – he waved at her and then turned around. As he started walking, she thought about insisting on driving him back, but ended up saying nothing, too excited to get in the house and see how much work it needed.
She grabbed her bag, locked the car, and made her way to the front door. After unlocking it with a minor struggle – she made a mental note of getting the door checked out – she stepped in and was met with way less mayhem than she was anticipating. A short corridor led into a fairly big and minimally furnished living room (there was a couch, an empty bookcase, and a lamp in the corner), connected to a small but homey kitchen; up a flight of stairs, then, was a bedroom with a private bathroom, a smaller bathroom for guests, and an empty room that she could turn into an office and workout space.
For the first time in a while, she found herself genuinely smiling; this was good…this place had potential to be a good home and she finally felt excited about something again. Granted, her decorating skills weren’t extraordinary – Shae had been the one to do most of the work on their city apartment; but Nicole had a feeling that with patience, time, and a good Pinterest search, she could really make this work.
She quickly emptied her bag, folding her clothes properly and placing them in her bedroom closet; then, she got into the car. She had tons of stuff to buy and very little time, considering it was already 5.40 pm.
She drove to Main Street, easily finding her way there; the town, or at least the town center, had a very basic structure, with few, long, roads intersecting. She’d practically memorized all of it within ten minutes of driving and looking around.
She knew, though, the real challenge was going to be familiarizing with the outskirts of town, the plots of land all over the place and their owners.
But she had time for that. Now, it was time to stock up on essential house supplies; she set off on her mission, creating a mental list of necessary items as she looked for a parking spot. She stopped by a couple little stores first, leaving the supermarket last.
By the time she got back to the house, a full hour and a half had passed, and her kitchen table looked like a mess, covered in everything she’d bought: bed sheets, pots and pans, groceries of all kind, a lamp for her bedside table, soaps, shampoo, conditioner and other toiletries, towels for the bathrooms and rags for the kitchen.
As she paused for a second, opening herself a beer and looking at all the work that still awaited her, she felt something that had been lacking in her life for so long, and that she’d missed so much; that euphoric exhaustion you get when you throw yourself into something and it takes time and effort and every muscle in your body ends up screaming at you to please go lie down but you still push through and give it your all? That’s what she was feeling in that moment.
And it might sound stupid, because at the end of the day she hadn’t really done much, but this felt like a step in the right direction and it gave her a sense of purpose that she hadn’t had for what felt like forever.
Reenergized by these thoughts, she launched herself into cleaning the house as best as she could, completely ignoring her fatigue. She moved from room to room, dusting, sweeping the floors, scrubbing and rinsing, while soft country music played from her small speaker sitting in the living room. At the same time, her mind was getting more and more packed with things she needed to do or buy on her first day off, so much so that at one point she had to go get her phone and write it all down, worried about mistakenly forgetting something.
It was nearly 11 pm when she finally made it to bed, her body relaxing under the covers as the vanilla scent of her freshly washed hair invaded her senses. She was so utterly worn-out by the day, that she barely managed to put in an alarm for the next morning before her heavy eyelids fell closed, sleep taking over her.
She didn’t have the time to sit and reflect about her day, about how much her mood had shifted - from the gloomy emptiness she’d felt that morning boarding the bus to the quiet excitement of that night; or about how relieved she was that it looked like there was a chance that this new life of hers might actually be a good one, after all.
She didn’t think about all that. But, if she had, she probably would have noticed how the terrible images of her partner dying in her arms while she lay powerless on the floor, her own arm wounded and covered in blood, hadn’t presented itself to her in hours.
She would have noticed how it had never happened, not once since the day of the incident, that she’d gone so long without seeing that awful scene in front of her eyes. She would have also noticed how she’d fallen asleep easily, not even the tiniest bit of struggle from her brain, or from her aching heart.
Nicole Haught didn’t think about all those things that night, and that was okay; she was finally getting some well-deserved rest after months of sleepless nights, tears, screams, pain, and grief.
She didn’t know it yet - because she hadn’t thought about it all, and even if she had thought about it, she probably wouldn’t have dared to let herself be so hopeful - but this day had been good. Very good, in fact.
Would it have been perhaps a little foolish to think that this had been the first day of the rest of her life?