Chapter Text
Even in January, one cannot escape the sticky heat of Louisiana. It weighed over Thelma's head, the humidity pushing down on her like a ton of bricks. After living in Louisiana for 5 years, she thought by now she'd be used to it, but she often felt especially homesick during the Deep South winters. She missed waking up to a layer of snow over everything, the complete stillness it'd bring, and pushing outside to the crisp mountain air of Appalachia. She missed the cold.
Instead, she found herself in a ditch wiping the sweat off her brow, studying intently a deceased body that laid below her. Another day in paradise.
A flash went off from her camera and the gears inside whirred around, keeping this moment forever trapped in a layer of emulsion. Thelma always bristled with the fact that it wasn't enough for her and her partner, Lee, to have to endure these scenes of tragedy. It must be kept intact for all time; studied and analyzed to find the son of bitch who did it.
Thelma lowered her camera and walked back up to the road to join her partner. He was standing a few yards away, arms crossed, taking it in with a level of disdain for the whole affair. Something that maddened Thelma. He seemed to think you could solve a case at arm's length and his disdain was rarely for the horrific nature of the crime, more for his day being upended instead of being able to take it easy.
"What you thinkin'?" He asked her once she arrived by his side.
Thelma took in a shallow breath before starting, "Several bruises to the neck and chest, the neck especially. No signs of being bound or constricted, but definitely signs of an altercation. Considering how close the DB is to the road, I'd say it wasn't pre-mediated. Perhaps she was just in the wrong place, wrong time."
"No shit." Lee said gruffly. Thelma suppressed her urge to cuss Lee out. He loved nothing more than to be a smart ass.
Lee turned to walk to the car, "Once we got an ID on her, we can contact any boyfriends, husband. If I was a betting man, I'd say it was most likely a domestic dispute that got out of hand."
"I wouldn't jump to any conclusions." Thelma gritted through her teeth, "We should tell PD to search the area for tire marks, anything. If there's evidence of the vehicle at all, we will need it."
"Sure." Lee got into his car and Thelma hovered near it. "See you back at the station, alright? I'll bring lunch."
With that he pulled off, leaving Thelma to do the rest.
“Bastard.” She grumbled under her breath. Lee was a veteran of their division at this stage. He'd been working at the same department for 20 years, which had the unfortunate combination of him seeing himself as being Thelma’s superior while also being completely numb to the job. Thelma knew he was just counting down the days until he could retire. From all of his years, he had the experience and know-all to be a great detective at times, but he'd gotten lazy.
That night, Thelma used it all as an excuse to find herself at the bar. She hadn't meant to, but she unconsciously drove the familiar route to the bar instead of back home. At least that's what she told herself as she ordered her first drink, a dram of whiskey. After the state they'd found that poor young woman in this morning, she needed it.
Thelma liked to drink at dive bars and truck stops. She wouldn't dare to frequent the cop bars if she wished to have a few. A hidden away bar is where she could drink alone in peace.
Except that was not the case tonight. After her third drink, when the heat of whiskey was just start to build up nicely in her, she saw Detective Cohle walk up to the bar. He had only started a few months back and all Thelma knew about him is that the other detectives didn't really take to him. She heard them make digs at him here and there, calling him the 'Taxman'. She never subscribed to any of it. In her mind, they all did so only because they couldn't get a read on Cohle and that got under their skin.
Cohle didn't notice Thelma from her spot at the corner of the bar. He was focused on two women by the bar and he quickly honed in on them. They were working girls, anyone could see that. At first, Thelma thought the worst. Maybe Cohle was just like some of the despicable men she met in the force and her chest constricted. In her time, Thelma had met detectives and officers who weren't much different from the criminals they pursued.
But as Thelma watched their conversation unfold, she realized he was on the job. He was questioning them. Her pulse steadied again, incredibly grateful it wasn't what she'd feared. Then again, why wasn't Hart with him? The details of Cohle's and Hart's case had spread throughout the station like wildfire. Thelma had never heard or seen anything quite like it. No one had.
One of the women downed her beer and said something else to Cohle. He, in turn, flagged down the bartender and ordered the women two more drinks. For better or worse, that's when his eyes landed right on Thelma across the bar. His gaze made her freeze completely, surprising Thelma. She prided herself on her ability to not crack in any situation, a quality she needed in her line of work, but something about Cohle's intense energy made her uneasy. Eyes still locked, she forced herself back into her calm resolve and gave him a slight nod. He returned it.
The drinks he ordered arrived and he turned away to sit with the women. Thelma worked on the rest of her drink and kept her back to Cohle and the women. She tried to decide whether to order another or leave it for the night. If she was alone, she would've wanted a few more, but Cohle had disturbed the spell of self-destruction that she was undertaking that night. Alcohol was her poison. She was constantly in a battle to slow her drinking and she wasn't winning.
She slowly finished her drink, trying to savor it as much as possible since she was cut short. Then, she put some cash on the bar and made her way out. Walking through the bar, she saw Cohle sitting next to the blonde woman in the booth, not across from her, taking a drag from his cigarette. The sinking feeling returned to Thelma. Maybe it was what she initially thought. Something about it felt untoward, but she couldn't be sure. Their eyes met briefly again, but Cohle seemed unfazed. He let out a plume of smoke and Thelma felt the need to disappear in it.
The next day Thelma buried herself into the case to try and forget about their path’s crossing the night before. A dull headache from the whiskey wasn't helping her either. Honestly, she didn’t want to know what Cohle was involved in— good or bad. Ignorance is bliss.
Thelma poured over the details of their DB, studying the photos she had taken the day before. She read all the reports the officers had written and chronicled every detail. They were still waiting on an ID from the autospy, so there wasn’t much to go off of yet. But she needed to work as if they will never get an ID on the woman. That was never a given.
“Quittin’ time.” Lee said, snapping Thelma out of her stupor. She checked her watch and somehow it was 10 minutes past 5. The day had flown by. She felt like she hadn’t looked up from her computer in hours.
The office was starting to empty out. “You coming, Buckley?” Lee asked Thelma.
“No… I have some more stuff to wrap up.” She turned her attention back to the papers scattered on her desk.
“Make sure you get some sleep too.” Lee grabbed his jacket and briefcase.
Thelma let out a wry smile, “I will.”
She turned back to her work and wrapped herself back in it. She was determined to find who did this, but she also knew she’d stop by the bar again tonight if she left now.
Any hint of sunlight drained out of the office, but Thelma barely noticed. At this point, she was the only one left but she much preferred to be alone at the station instead of home alone. At least here there were signs of life. Her house felt more like a pit to fall into at the end of the night, not somewhere she lived.
Thelma buried her head in her hands. For all the work she had done today, she hadn’t really gotten anywhere. She took deep, long breaths steadying herself. If she stayed there long enough, she probably could fall asleep right at her desk.
“Buckley...” A voice came from behind her. She turned her head to see who she already knew it was.
Cohle held out a cigarette for her. “Need a smoke?”
She eyed it suspiciously. The last thing she really wanted right now was for Cohle to try and save face by providing a bunch of excuses for what he was up to last night. But when she looked up at him, he seemed so oddly at ease. Maybe that’s not what he was there for.
She accepted and placed the cigarette in her mouth. Cohle held a flame out for her, and she felt her heart quicken in the small moment that he was so close to her. As she exhaled, she pushed that feeling away with it.
Cohle sat in Lee’s desk chair across from her and lit up his own cigarette. They sat silently for a long moment, smoking. Strangely, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable for either of them.
“Tell me about your case.” Cohle said through an exhale.
Thelma studied him, trying to figure out what exactly he wanted out of this, but he was unreadable as always. She looked down at her casework and started, “DB was found outside Erath on County Road 40. She was lying face down in the ditch, obscured by some foliage so she was most likely there for a few days. Discoloration on the neck, most likely strangulation. We don’t have an ID on her yet unfortunately we're waiting to hear back from the coroner.”
Thelma picked up some of the photos she took and handed them to Cohle. He looked them over. “Considering how she was found, I’d say she was dropped off in a hurry.” She added.
Cohle didn’t respond, only stared at the gruesome case photos with a detached look. He took another long drag of his cigarette. Thelma did the same.
“This isn't far from Dora Lange.”
That piqued Thelma’s interest, “You think they’re connected?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.” He mulled it over, “They should compare the wounds between the two.”
“Hm.” Thelma took this all in for a moment. It was an interesting point. “Lange was highly staged, pre-planned. The antlers, the twigs, the symbol on her back. Even the location itself feels significant. Jane Doe is a completely different MO.”
“So you’ve already seen our case photos?” Cohle eyed her.
Thelma scoffed. It felt like the closest Cohle would ever get to a joke, “Everyone’s seen them.”
“It’s a disease. This whole place has been infected by it... I think your Jane Doe is next.” Cohle breathed out a plume of smoke, “Wait for the coroner’s report. I suspect her time of death is going to be too close to comfort to Lange’s.”
“She might’ve been in the wrong place, wrong time.” He said. Thelma’s eyes flicked up to him.
“Maybe so.” The conversation petered off back into silence. Thelma thought back to the bar last night. She didn’t know how to place the Cohle she saw there and the one in front of her now. He was a good detective— that much was obvious to her.
“Find yourself at the truck stop often?” She couldn’t help herself.
Cohle didn’t hesitate, “When I’m following up with potential leads who might’ve known the deceased, yes.”
“Sure.” Thelma said with a hint of sarcasm. The quip didn’t seem to bother Cohle.
“Outside of that…” A faraway look overcame him, “A place like that is merely transitional between one and the next. People passing through, never staying for long. It’s a good place to find whatever it is you’re searching for. Any vice you want to indulge.” Cohle met her eyes again. Thelma remembered the burn of whiskey on her tongue from last night.
“Like with working girls.” Thelma said sternly.
“No.” Cohle paused for a long moment before continuing, “Quaaludes. I can’t sleep without them.”
Thelma was stunned by his honesty. Maybe he wasn’t so hard to read after all. Perhaps she just wasn’t used to a man who was so unblinkingly truthful. He knew exactly who he was and didn’t care who saw it.
“Find yourself there often?” He returned the question.
Thelma nodded slowly, “If I go to any of the other bars around here, I’m just going to run into every other cop in this town. See enough of them already.” It came out more bitter than she meant it to, but it was true.
Thelma stubbed out her cigarette in the ash tray on her desk. “Thanks for the smoke. I should head on home.” She flipped off her computer and picked up some of her things, she never had much. Cohle put out his own cigarette. “You staying?” She asked him.
“Got more to do.” He breathed, “See you tomorrow, Buckley.”
She nodded, “See you tomorrow, Cohle.” She said it over her shoulder as she headed for the door.
“Let me know what the coroner says.” She shot one last look back at him. A single lamp illuminated him in the empty office and he leaned back in his chair. She didn’t think he was headed home for a long time.
—
“So Detective Cohle was the first person who made the connection between Dora Lange and your case, Edith Williams?”
“That’s correct.” Thelma’s rubbed her forehead. She felt weary now. All she could think about was when this would finally be over. “Cohle was an incredible detective. His instincts were almost always right.”
Without missing a beat, one of the detectives launched into a line of questioning, “Do you think he might’ve led you to conclusions you wouldn’t have arrived at yourself?”
Thelma’s eyes narrowed. “No. In fact, we were in agreement most of the time.”
“Did that have anything to do with the fact that your relationship had progressed…romantically?”
Thelma scoffed. She wished now they hadn’t tracked her down. And that she hadn’t agreed to this shit in the first place.
“That was a long time ago.”