“Hey!” Avon shouts, the water continuing to rise, now up to his kneecaps with no reasonable expectation for the water to voluntarily stop pouring into his makeshift grave. Feeling around for something to leverage himself upon, an accidental wave of his hands allows the short, yet noticeable sound of a jingling pair of keys in his pocket to sing to him like a flock of birds in the morning.
Running his thumb over the keyfob, Avon presses the button he knows to be responsible for sounding off his alarm to no use, running water still being the only thing he can hear. Having run out of options, Avon feels around the hole more in hopes of finding something more elevated than the ground he stands upon, a lone rock protruding from the wall behind him offering enough leverage to fit at least one foot atop of. With a grunt, Avon refuses to acknowledge the pain of his injuries in hopes of greater survival, lifting his now-soggy feet from the pool of water beneath him, resting them atop this life-saving stone. Feeling his hands around for something to hold onto, Avon grabs at the smooth edge of yet another protruding rock, this one higher up than the one he clings to hope upon now. As if the dark cavern were illuminated by the lightbulb going off in his head, Avon wears a smile on his face, the pain taking a backseat to the pleasure the man takes in his thoughts. With a few further grunts, Avon climbs atop the second protruding rock, a third and final boulder peering out of the wall a few feet further upwards giving him hope. Reaching up with his free hand, Avon presses his palm against the bottom of the manhole cover in a failed attempt to unearth his own grave. When knowing his injuries to be too severe to make such an easy escape, Avon switches to a second plan, feeling around the manhole cover in an effort to find the water source. Fingers dancing along the limestone bottom, Avon punches at a rubber hose peering through the center of the cover, his hand reaching onto it for dear life as his second hand lifts from his side. With his thumb still on the intended button, Avon aims his keyfob in the direction of his car and angrily shoves the button down, a blaring car horn going off in the near distance. Out of Avon’s sight, the figure just overhead shuffles his feet in the ground, the crunching leaves being thrown through the air as the man frantically fumbles around for a backup plan. Time no longer on his side, the figure remains stopped, affording Avon, sealed within the earth, the opening his survival depends on. Clutching the hose with both hands, Avon lets one foot teeter off the edge of the rock before taking in a deep breath, preparing for yet another hard impact with the ground. In a moment, Avon’s remaining foot leaps from the rock, his hefty body dropping further into the hole’s depths with the hose still clutched between his fingers. With a metallic pop, the hose connected to a larger vehicle frees itself from the water spout, dumping gallons of water all over the forest above. Impact softened by the larger pool of water below, Avon peers his head through the surface of the shoulder-high water with the hose still safely tucked between his fingers. The criminal above cursing with every forbidden word the English language has room for, his audible shouts become the only thing running through the forest quicker than the water. Just above, Avon watches the water trickle in through the hole, knowing his efforts to have, at least, bought him time. After another minute, sirens begin to wail in the distance, and even through the thick fog, the criminal above can see the flashing red and blue lights from afar, serving as his signal to escape. Water still excessively pumping out of his vehicle, the criminal hops into the driver’s seat and drives the massive getaway vehicle through the dense forest. With a smile, Avon allows the trickling water just above him to run over his face, refreshing relief coming over him instantly. = Remedy Hills is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = “How bad is it?” Avon asks, his wife inspecting the wounds he’s suffered through the night, a look of great concern coming over her. “You’ve got some busted ribs and a few pretty bad bruises” Penny replies, “but on the lone bright side, no broken bones or fractures, which is a good sign.” With a nod, Avon lets his breathing calm, answers having been given to the severity of his wounds whilst remaining elusive over those of Beth. “How is she?” Avon asks, his eyes laying over the unconscious woman in the hospital bed beside him. Looking toward the woman, Penny wraps her husband’s cuts in bandages, hesitant to tell the man much other than the basics. “She’s got a few cuts and some swelling, well, everywhere” Penny responds, a partial smile coming over her as she proceeds, “but she’ll be ready to go in a few days.” Nodding, Avon conveys his joy in the news with a smile, silence falling over the pair in the short moment that follows. “Why didn’t you come with her?” Penny asks, her husband not having listened to her question when she first uttered it. Repeating her question, Penny watches her husband’s eyes trail off to the depths of the hospital, his head running with many different thoughts, Penny noticing this quickly. “She has a piece of string tied around her neck with a note on it” Avon replies, the bandage being rolled over her husband’s arm slowing as her body becomes tense. “The person that attacked her left a note for her?” Penny asks, her voice soft and emanating without judgment, though it leaves her lips bustling with concern. “Not for her” Avon responds, head staggering back toward his wife and peering into her eyes, “for me.” Her hands having stopped moving, Penny looks into her husband’s eyes and watches the trauma fill them in real time, his lip quivering as he quickly looks away, trying to hold back tears. Concerned in her own right, Penny rests the unrolled bandages in her husband’s lap and pulls his head toward her chest, holding both hands around his forehead amidst her embrace. “I thought they’d go after you next if I didn’t” Avon says, his wife whistling gently through her lips in hopes of getting her husband to hush down. Tears continue to stream down his face as it puffs with emotion, Avon and his wife discard the sliding emergency room doors at first until the man entering through them walks around their curtain. Pulling apart, both Avon and Penny set their sights upon Beau, his posture carrying a content attitude as of yet unfamiliar to the pair. “Have you come to suspect me of my own attempted murder?” Avon quips, refusing to allow his emotions to overtake his spite for the man before him, refusing to forget what he’s done to welcome him to Remedy. “No, I have not” Beau replies, his jacket held in his hands as he stands a few feet away from the pair, refusing to carry himself as anything other than a concerned spectator. “Jake will be coming down to take your account of the events for, well, rather obvious reasons” Beau explains, watching Avon nod at the suggestion. “Good” Avon says, not wishing to say anything to the man that isn’t necessary, allowing Beau to speak as much as he wishes without feeling the desire to respond. “I figured that while I was in the area, I’d drop by and let you know that we’ve found security footage from the crash” Beau explains, “it’s not much, but it’s enough to clear you.” Pleased, Avon nods further, stopping his response at a simple “thanks”, Beau giving the man a nod before turning to leave. Facing the way he entered, Beau has a change of heart, turning around to own up to his mistakes, much to the couple’s surprise. “I’m sorry” Beau says, Avon looking back at the man, assuming him to have left, “I’m sorry I had blinders on when I shouldn’t have, and I put you and the people you care about at risk. I was wrong for that and I apologize.” Surprised, Avon’s lips part, the words to reply to such an unexpected gesture not coming easily. “I appreciate that” Avon responds, Beau’s head hanging after a subtle nod in return. “Jake and I will hold a conference at the sunrise to officially clear you as a suspect” Beau explains, his jacket drifting to the side in his hand as it moves with each word he speaks, “it may not be much, but I want to make sure you can be safe going back home as soon as possible.” Again failing to find an adequate response to the gesture, Avon parts his lips with little to respond with, a simple nod of approval coming from his sore neck and bruised shoulders. With that departing remark, Beau turns around and exits the way he came, leaving Avon and Penny to tend to their prior conversation. “That was unexpected” Penny remarks, watching the man walk away as Beau stares on in silence, his eyes following the man’s frame until the moment it walks through the doors. | “The announcement went better than I had anticipated” Jake exclaims, shoving his car door shut as an energy-drained Beau emerges from the other side of the vehicle. “Let’s just keep our hopes up for the mob to dissipate” Beau replies, fixing a scarf around his neck as he and Jake fight through the fog toward the scene of the crime. “They’ve been cleared in the eyes of the public now” Jake exclaims, ducking beneath the yellow tape, “if they don’t, it’ll be a bigger problem.” “They’re looking for someone to hold accountable” a third officer calls out from afar, approaching the pair of detectives with a rock in a plastic bag, “why not make the people that walked into this town with a chip on their shoulder play the villain?” “I’m sorry, you are?” Jake inquires, a black gentleman in a raincoat offering a handshake to the officers. “Patrick Carver, everyone I know calls me Pat” the officer responds, continuing to hold the evidence bag in the air, “I’ve been transferred to Remedy from Concord.” With a smile, Jake takes joy in meeting someone new to the city, initiating their conversation with an apology for the weather conditions accompanying him to the town. “Before we sit down and start chatting about last night’s Bruins game, let’s start with that” Beau says, skipping to business with his finger raised toward a bloody rock. “I’m assuming that’s blood and not remnants from someone’s dinner?” Beau inquires, his sarcastic comment agreed upon by Carver. “The rock was left near the victim’s head, tucked away beneath the porch” Carver replies, looking toward Beau, “from the looks of it, the perp didn’t want her dead.” “So it was a message being sent?” Beau asks his partner, the elder detective looking toward him with a smile. “I’d argue it was a literal message being sent” Carver responds, approaching another bag of evidence left on the curb, a broken piece of string stained with dirt. “If I was a guessing man, I’d say that string came with a note” Carver explains, pointing the pair’s attention to a small piece of loose paper. “And you said Avon King was the one that called the attack in?” Beau inquires, his head turning toward Jake the moment Carver’s head nods in agreement. “Will you excuse us, thank you?” Beau gestures to his precinct’s newest addition, head ducking down with his voice lowered. “I know keep bringing up Avon, innocent or otherwise, but there’s something he’s not telling us” Beau explains, Jake pulling his head back with amusement at the suggestion. “I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t trust the cops that tried to pin a murder on him for nearly a week” Jake sarcastically quips, Beau’s expression becoming no more light-hearted than it was prior. “I’m serious, there’s gotta be something more to all of this” Beau explains, his eyes returning to the Ovorre residence with curiosity, “what if I should have been looking at Avon as the victim this whole time rather than the suspect?” Pulling away once more, this time without a humorous reason behind it, Jake looks toward Beau with intrigue. “Are you trying to say Avon was the target for all of this?” Jake inquires, Beau shaking his head slowly, correcting the man’s thought. “What if the first crash was intended for Avon and didn’t get the job done?” Beau asks, raising the alarm bells in his partner’s mind, “they attack Beth, leave him a note, and try to correct their mistake at the scene of the crime.” “It would make sense, sure… But that leaves us with more questions than we have room for” Jake replies, his mind returning to their only other suspect, “Kerryon’s locked up, who else would we be looking for?” Head shaking, Beau looks back toward Jake, pressing his hand against his own hip, suggesting they owe Kerryon another visit. | Losing himself in his own mind again, Avon stares blanky at the white-washed wall beside him, only paying the smallest attention to the ticking analog clock in the corner of the room. “He’s been like this since he came in?” Anne asks, her eyes peering around a curtain across the room from the man, Penny admitting that it’s been off and on. “If you can get his attention, he’ll interact with you” Penny explains, lifting a plastic cup of water to her mouth, “other than that, he blanks.” “Is it medical?” Anne asks, her head turning back toward Penny, the woman shrugging without a definitive answer. “He just stops communicating at some point… Like he’s the only person in the world at that moment” Penny responds, “it’s not like he’s frozen in time or anything, he’s just drowned everything around him out.” Nodding, Anne switches the conversation, intrigued by what she knows about the situation. “What did the officers say?” Anne inquires, Penny shaking her head out of exhaustion, taking a seat in an empty waiting room chair. “That they pulled him out of a well after someone tried to kill him” Penny replies, her hand lifting to her face, rubbing her temples as recalling the situation brings on a headache, “they didn’t want to tell me anything more than that without investigating.” Eyes wide, Anne takes in a big puff of air before letting it escape her lungs all at once as she takes the seat beside her coworker. “How exactly did that come to happen?” Anne inquires, Penny’s shoulders lifting up before dropping down, no reasonable explanation coming to her mind. “I think he walked into the wrong side of town and someone tried to make him pay for it” Penny responds, Anne purposefully left out of the loop, vagueness the only response being offered. “You’re still here?” Clark asks, rounding the corner to find Anne and Penny seated in the lobby, apologies being offered by Penny for being seated on the job. “Don’t apologize! Dear god, don’t apologize!” Clark exclaims, placing his clipboard beneath his arm, “We’ll work short one doctor for the rest of the night, you go home with your husband and get some rest.” Refusing the offer, Penny finds her rejection to be discarded, Clark’s words insisting the woman take the rest of her shift off. “I’m not gonna make you work after the night you’ve had, seriously, go home” Clark persists, gently lifting the woman’s cup from her hand and setting it on the table, “come back in tonight after you’ve gotten a few hours for everything to settle down.” Her efforts of refusal not serving to be effective, Penny gives into the kind gesture, voicing her appreciation for the man’s care for her. With a smile, Clark walks off with the woman’s clipboard in his hand, Anne covering a smile from the pair as Clark vanishes around the corner. “What are you all giggles about?” Penny asks, playfully swatting Anne’s hand away from her mouth, taking her cup back into her hands and beginning to return to her husband’s side. “At least you have a backup plan in case Avon doesn’t work out, if you know what I mean?” Anne replies, her joke bringing about equal amusement as it does embarrassment over Penny. “Anne, I swear you are no good sometimes” Penny responds, refusing to look too far into the comment, returning the playful banter to the woman as she shakes Avon back out of his lost existence, ready to return home to a familiar environment. | Buzzing with a jarring screech, the reinforced doors of the inner prison area release from their locked positions, allowing a crew of security guards to escort Kerryon through the doorway. “No, I don’t wanna talk to these people!” Kerryon shouts, his cooperation vanishing into thin air immediately, his arms struggling to fight for freedom, legs trying to push the weight of his body back the way he came. “No one will know we’re here as long as you sit down with us!” Jake blurts out, Kerryon immediately refusing to believe a word that leaves either officer’s mouth. “Why is he so stubborn today?” Beau quips, Jake confused as to what he means, reminding him of the struggle put up when they originally took him into custody. “No, that was a struggle… This is desperation” Beau remarks, leaving his chair and approaching Kerryon, his hands grabbing at the jumpsuit. Concerned, Beau pops the buttons on the upper body free, revealing the bare torse of the undershirt-less man, burns scattered throughout his chest and stomach. “Jesus Christ!” Jake shouts, his hand slamming against the table in the center of the room as he leaps to his feet, standing beside Beau, watching Kerryon plead for his life. “They’re gonna kill me because of you!” Kerryon shouts, his feet flailing in the air as the young man tries to squirm out of the guard’s reach. “What have they done to this kid in here!?” Jake shouts, the guards admitting that they haven’t seen any inmate-delivered punishment since Kerryon was booked. “Clearly, someone has been up to something!” Jake shouts, his hands extending toward the man’s scarred body, “either the inmates did it or it was one of you! Either way, we’ve got a kid who’s barely just turned eighteen with cigarette marks as far as the eye can see!” “I don’t know what to tell you, detective” the foremost security replies, grunting as he continues trying to hold the kid’s arms back. “Start by telling me who the hell did this!” Jake shouts back, Beau stood silently by his side, angrily staring at the burn marks on the wounded kid’s body. Continuing to argue with the guards, Jake keeps the conversation moving as Beau takes matters into his own hands, eyes drifting away from the kid and onto the open door behind him. Seeing red, Beau leaves Jake’s side and walks around the guards, squeezing through the opening between their bodies before venturing down the reinforced corridors toward the innards of the jail. “Sir, you can’t go down there!” one of the security guards shout, Beau refusing to ease on his pace, knowing those with higher authority won’t hold it against him for advancing further than he’s allowed. “I wouldn’t suggest trying to stop me” Beau calls back blankly, reaching for the unlocked entrance to the common room and pulling in the heavily barred-gateway. Approaching the guard rail, Beau glances down at the sea of prisoners, all glancing back up at him, intrigued by the appearance of a common detective. “The law’s comin’ to get us!” one of the inmates shouts, earning Beau’s attention for a moment before another section captivates him. As if his eyes were raindrops targeted solely on one spot, Beau stares toward one table, glaring at those sat around the circular base with disdain. Head turning to the side, Beau walks off to the side a short distance before descending the staircase, Jake trailing just behind him. “You got a death wish, pig?” one of the targeted inmates calls out, Beau angrily walking toward the man, who lifts himself from his seat and stares into the eyes of the younger officer. “Detective, please back away from the hispanic scum right now!” Jake calls out to his partner, wrapping his hand around the ball of Beau’s inner elbow in an effort to restrain him. Pulling away, Beau brings his arm back to his side as he initiates the conversation, refusing to give up ground to the longtime inmate. “I know who you are, I know what you did, I know what you know” Beau says, inching his face ever so closer to the inmates, “play nice or I’ll stomp you out.” With a chuckle, the inmate points to the number scrawled over his jumpsuit, running his finger from the first digit to the last. “In here, I’m 129845… But to you, I’m someone to look out for” the man remarks, challenging Beau to put his money where his mouth is, “I’m in here for life already, and I will do what I want. So either take your Barbie-doll looking ass out of here or I’m going to give you problems.” Snickering at the man, Beau closes the distance between their faces even further, teeth peering through his parted lips. Making an attempt to speak, Beau is pulled back by Jake, the elder partner calling the man’s name once more, ending the conversation before it truly gets the chance to begin. “Detective, back away this instant” Jake exclaims, Beau’s face frowning toward his direction as Inmate 129845 laughs in the officer’s face. “Do what daddy says now, Ken-doll” the inmate beckons, watching the angry face of Beau pull away from his own, both officers returning to the flight of stairs leading to the second level. Amidst a chorus of prisoners cheering the display of their fellow inmate’s actions, Jake scolds Beau for having put them in that position. “Settle your hot head down the next time you wanna throw a few days worth of work down the toilet” Jake orders, returning to the corridor they entered. | “Hello?” Avon answers the ringing phone, leaning in the chair he sits upon his hand over his eyes, the open computer screen splashing his face in an luminous white. “Hello, Avon King… This is Dr. Clark Kitts, I work with your wife” Clark responds, sharing a brief, but pleasant greeting with the man. “I was just calling to let you know that Beth Ovorre is signing herself out of care and needs someone to take her home” Clark explains, “she’s specifically asked for that person to be you.” Pleased, Avon lets Clark know that he’ll be departing his home within the next two minutes to pick Beth up, a response that ends the conversation. Glancing at his screen, Avon reads over the latest six lines of his writing and shakes his head with disapproval, highlighting the text and wiping it from the face of the screen. Folding the laptop shut, Avon pushes his chair out and looks toward the backdoor, a paranoia beginning to settle in now that he’s seen how the town has welcomed him. Playing with his car keys, Avon writes Penny a note and leaves it on the kitchen table for her to find, the woman still fast asleep in bed. Climbing into his vehicle, Avon fumbles with the keys before turning them in the ignition, his dashboard lighting up with a warm orange glow. Remedy Hills still draped in fog, Avon buckles himself in and places his hands upon the wheel and gearshift, neither hand moving either object in the moment following, Avon’s eyes falling on something else. Left on the console for him, just in front of his odometer, a folded piece of paper sits in front of his eyes, prompting his hands to leave their original place, frantically reaching for the note. In a moment of overwhelming anxiety, Avon peers into the backseat to find nothing, his entire car empty other than the presence of himself and the note. Turning the overhead light on, Avon pulls open the folds of the paper, reading the brief statement left behind for his eyes only. Frustrated, Avon tosses the note onto the floor of the passenger’s seat, remaining sat behind the wheel with his eyes placed upon the clock. In a brief moment, Avon adjusts from being sat in silence to hurriedly pulling his vehicle out of the driveway, beginning the drive toward his original destination. Walking through the sliding doors, Avon walks toward Beth’s bed, trying his best to calm his breathing the closer he grows to the curtain. Reaching out, Avon slides the curtain on the hangers above, his eyes stumbling upon a surprising sight. Looking back, Beau and Jake find an equally-surprised Avon staring back at them, Beth climbing off the bed between them, wrapping her arms around Avon for a hug. “Is something wrong?” Avon asks the officers, both Jake and a still-cautious Beau brushing off such a suggestion. “We hadn’t gotten to talk with her since she’s been out and needed to take account of her story” Jake explains, the pen in his right hand tapping against the notepad in the other. “Thank you for coming” Beth whispers into the man’s chest, a tear forming in the corner of her eye, both Beau and Jake feeling awkward, as if they stumbled into a moment they’re not meant to be in. “We’ll be taking off now” Jake replies first, nodding to Beau as he walks for the door, the younger officer nodding to the man he’s gotten off to a rocky start with as he passes him. Following Jake, Beau feels a need to interject as he had earlier in the day, turning back toward Avon and presenting his hand. “Jake and I think the people that caused the crash are targeting you” Beau exclaims, Jake turning around at the sound of this revelation, Avon’s eyes firmly upon the young cop. “Wh… What?” Avon says, confused, Jake walking up to the emotion-filled Beau, who continues to explain further. “The incident from last night, we think it was a way of cleaning up their mess” Beau clarifies, his partner standing by his side, refusing to interrupt, “we think the crash was meant to be you and they were trying to take you out last night.” Surprised, Avon becomes suddenly overwhelmed with relief, answers to puzzles he didn’t know he was trying to solve all fitting neatly into place. Looking back to Beth, Avon watches the woman pull away from him, looking into his eyes with confusion. “What happened last night?” Beth inquires, Avon promising the woman that he’ll tell her on the ride home, his attention being returned to the pair of officers. “So, you think they’re targeting me and the trucker guy they, I don’t even know, was supposed to be me?” Avon responds, Beau looking to Jake, who nods back. “They’ve failed twice now, I can’t see why they wouldn’t aim for a third shot” Beau responds, hands folded by his lap, “if you see anything out of the ordinary… Please, let us know.” “I know we haven’t gotten off to the best start, that much is clear” Jake adds on, “but if something’s going on, anything at all, tell us so we can nip it in the bud.” Staring blankly into thin air, Avon looks back to the officers after a moment of thought, head nodding in agreement silently, ending the discussion. Having done what they could, Jake and Beau turn back and walk for the exits, Avon left holding onto a still-frightened Beth, his mind elsewhere. “Wait!” Avon calls out, Jake and Beau both turning around with hope, Avon stood where they last saw him, an internal struggle going on inside his head. “Yes?” Jake replies, he and Beau remaining stood in place, their eyes falling upon Avon with the hopes that something more will come of this interjection. “You want to nip something in the bud right?” Avon inquires, both Jake and Beau replying in kind, returning to the man. “Good” Avon responds, holding off the end of his statement until the detectives are within a few feet of him once more, the tension rising as a concerned Avon looks back to the pair. “I have a few things to tell the two of you” Avon remarks, lips closing as the nerves come over, both Beau and Jake silently leaving the floor open once more. == Remedy Hills ==
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“I already told y’all, you’re not getting anything out of me” Kerryon says, his words prompted by the arrival of Jake and Beau, who take a seat at the table opposite him. “You already know that you have the right to remain silent” Beau replies, slapping a manilla folder upon the metal table and revealing the photos inside of it, “but you have the equal right to remain behind bars for upwards of ten years if you have us find what we’re looking for on our own.”
“What is this?” Kerryon asks, pulling the first photo away from the folder and toward his side of the table with the tip of his finger, seeing an image of himself emblazoned on the printed image. “That’s your hoodie on this morning’s news coverage outside the King residence” Jake responds, his posture being different to that of Beau’s, his younger partner hunched over the table whilst he relaxes, leant in his chair with his arms folded. “More notably, it’s the same jacket my partner and I can identify a trespasser with this same jacket at the King home just a few hours prior” Jake explains, “which only increases your potential time behind bars.” His lip arching on one side, Kerryon tells Jake and Beau that no amount of pressure will prompt him to break. “You can send me behind bars for as long as you want” Kerryon explains, “I’ve got people on the inside… They’ll take care of me.” “Take care of you?” Beau replies with a questioning tone, “take care of you by incorporating you into the group? Or… take care of you by making sure you can’t open your mouth?” With a laugh, Kerryon looks away from the officers, his confidence shooting through the roof for as long as the detectives will allow it to. “My people know I would never snitch” Kerryon responds, taking the tip of his finger and sliding the photo back to the two men, “they’d never believe you.” With a smile, Beau folds his hands together on the table, his annoyance with the young man’s arrogance beginning to need a resolution. “We can keep you here on these charges of obstruction of justice for as long as we want” Beau explains, a smile coming over his face, “that’s plenty of time to make a visit to your boys and make some… suggestions.” “Are you threatening me?” Kerryon inquires, his back still placed against the metal bars of the chair he sits upon, eyes watching Beau’s smile harshly spread from one ear to the other. “Yes, Kerryon” Beau replies, leaning his head forward slightly more than before as his tone drops to a near-whisper, “I’m threatening to put you on a hit list the moment you set your first step behind bars.” Nostrils flaring, Kerryon’s eyes lower away from Beau and return to the photographs, the smile having been removed from his face all together. “I ain’t saying nothing” Kerryon responds, turning his head away from the pair of officers as the interrogation room’s door opens. “That’s enough” a well-dressed man with a briefcase exclaims, “I’m Kerryon’s attorney and he’s not telling you another word.” With a disappointed look, Beau pushes his hands against the table and returns to his feet, eyes directed toward the suited gentleman as his response follows. “There’s no need” Beau replies, Jake taking that statement of defeat as his sign to prepare a departure of his own, “we’re done with him for now.” Closing the door behind himself, Beau tilts his head to the sky and lets out a huff, his back leant against the door as Jake leans against the wall opposite him. “We still don’t have enough to put him at the scene of the crime” Jake explains, Beau’s head dropping to the ground, the point still understood loud and clear, “the only people that we can pin at the scene, at this point, are the Kings.” “I know” Beau responds with disappointment, his head remaining aimed toward the ground, hope beginning to falter as his head shakes from one side to another. Lifting his arm from his side, Beau rubs the back of his head before quietly returning to his desk, answering when called for by Jake. “I’m gonna look over the tapes and hope they lead us back to Kerryon” Beau replies, rounding the corner and leaving Jake stood there, his experienced eyes staring into the room at their suspect. = Remedy Hills is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = Losing himself in the words that appear on his screen with each key his finger presses down upon, the track of time in Avon’s head appears more like a jumbled crossword puzzle than an adequate measure of daylight. Every word being added to the screen ahead of him depleting yet another thought from his mind, the clutter in Avon’s head begins to slowly deplete until he can notice the sounds of his breath once more. His sense of placement returning to him all at once, the sudden thumping of a headache from within the confines of his skull causes him to quickly roll his chair away from the desk, hands pressing against his eye sockets and his palms cover his pupils. “Fucking hell-” Avon says to himself, leaning forward until his forehead touches his kneecaps, the pain shooting from inside his skull to the tips of his fingers. After a few seconds pass, the pain begins to quickly wear off, the price for his concentration on his work being a rigorous, at times tortuous sacrifice deemed necessary to create his art. Now able to look at his surroundings without a pinching sensation crushing his every movement, Avon’s eyes instinctively drift to the clock at the corner of the room, the time being fifteen minutes past nine in the evening. In the room on his own, Avon leans back into his seat and lets his arms fall onto the armrests, his eyes gliding over each side of the room, the warm orange hue of the light in the corner of the room making him feel welcomed. “I’ve been writing for three hours?” Avon asks himself, looking to the floor with his head shaking from one side to the other, his head falling back until it becomes draped over the back of the seat. Exhausted, Avon takes a minute to relax, trying to return to the moment in full, not wishing to be absent minded the moment he leaves the desk. Almost on instinct, Avon looks to the coffee table beside his chair and takes the now-cold cup of coffee into his hand, lifting it to his lips with a lackluster response. “Cold coffee is not for me” Avon says to himself, downing the small swig and leaving his seat with his eyes on the kitchen. As if a random thought in the back of his mind called for his attention to return elsewhere, Avon suddenly stops in the middle of the living room, his head turning to the sight of his seat where his eyes return to the table. Beside a ring the cup in his hand left behind where it was left for many hours, a second mug, this one empty, remains beside it. Eyes squinted, Avon looks to his own cup before walking back toward the second, his eyes falling upon the chair next to his desk-ready seat. Placing his mug where he lifted it from, Avon turns back toward the narrow hallway at the end of the home, flicking on a light switch to bathe it in a tense white-light. “Beth?” Avon calls out into the empty corridor, his eyes falling upon a half-open bedroom door he knows the woman refers to call her own. Approaching the room, Avon gently pushes the frail wooden door in with a single finger before flicking on the light, illuminating the room and revealing an empty bed. Turning away, Avon stares down at the rest of the corridor, calling out Beth’s name for a second time. Without an answer yet again, Avon takes it upon himself to quickly look into every room of the home, bathing it in light before finding it vacant, just like the rooms that came before it. Now worried, Avon returns to the front of the home, his eyes gazing upon the empty living room, head directing itself to the entrance of the home, the woman’s sandals having yet to return to their place. Driven by a mixture of concern, curiosity and fear, Avon’s following decisions come without hesitation, his hand pulling the front door open as his other pushes the glass door outward. Upon the front steps of his temporary home, Avon looks into an empty residential street, ending a few homes ahead at the cul-de-sac, Beth’s home the third-to-last house on the left. Looking down both ends of the street, Avon’s sights fall upon the home directly opposite him, most of the lights in the home dark aside from a small few, its interior presenting the least life on the street. On a mission, Avon descends the staircase and approaches the home on the opposite side of the road, his feet taking him up the front steps and allowing his fist to tap against the screen door. With a chime, the home’s security system greets Avon the moment the door is pulled in, an elderly man assisted by a walker greeting the concerned gentleman. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you” Avon begins, feeling both nervous and apologetic for his interruption of the man’s night, “does Beth come over to give you meds every evening?” Confused, the elderly gentleman confirms the legitimacy behind Avon’s statements, following his answer with an inquiry as to its importance. “She hasn’t come home yet, I’m just worried is all” Avon responds, hiding his inner fears until the moment the elderly gentleman looks at him with surprise. “She left about two and a half hours ago, son” the older man replies, his eyebrows furrowed as Avon’s face begins to show the wear of worry on his expression. The concern growing to a point where Avon can no longer hide it, the young man cuts the conversation short by thanking the man for his time, turning around to return to the Ovorre residence. Making it to the final step, Avon feels a sudden block at the tip of his shoe, one that refuses to budge with his leg’s weight, prompting his upper body to carry him to the ground, dropping the man to the rough asphalt below. Grimacing at the roadburn on the palm of his hands from having cushioned his fall, Avon pushes himself onto his back and attempts to find what he tripped over. Without much sleuthing, Avon finds the sole of a shoe presented toward him, the sandal resting on its side a few inches off of the bottom step. Eyes widened, Avon forgets about the scrapes on his hands and pushes himself to his feet, running up to the bush where the sandal-clad foot is associated with the body it belongs to. Hidden in the bushes just beside the lderly man’s home, Beth lays unconscious- her face bloody from a heavy wound over the top of her eye. Without thinking, Avon removes his phone from his pocket and dials for emergency services, waiting for the voice on the other end to respond as his sights become set over a string tied around the woman’s neck, a note attached to it. “911, what is the nature of your call?” the operator on the other end of the line asks, Avon replying in kind as his hands reach for the note. Reading off the address to the woman responding to his call on the other end of the line, Avon gently tugs at the string around Beth’s neck until it breaks. Pressing on Beth’s neck, Avon feels for a pulse, the faint response of the woman’s body fighting to live before offering him relief just as the sirens begin to blare in the distance. His mind still wandering toward the note, Avon takes the folded paper between his fingers and unfolds the sheet, a brief statement written in black sharpie marker by the perpetrator. “You’re playing a deadly game with what you don’t know” the first half of the note reads, Avon hanging up the phone in his hand before reading the second half of the note to himself, “the scene of the crime, follow the lights.” | “Anything?” Jake asks, approaching his younger partner’s desk with intrigue, his fellow detective struggling to keep himself awake as the night continues to age. “As a matter of fact, we’ve got a lot” Beau responds, cupping his mouth with his hand and yawning into his palm, “it may not seem like it, but I’m rather excited about what I have to show you.” With a laugh, Jake takes the empty seat beside Beau and looks into the recovered footage, the video rewound to the day prior to the fatal car crash. “I want you to keep an eye on the lip of the hill for the next few seconds” Beau explains, pointing to a specific spot on the monitor before pressing “play.” Patiently waiting for the big payoff, Jake watches the video continue, the aforementioned seconds of nothing passing before a world of possibilities is presented to the pair. Over the lip of the grassy hill, the second, crash-causing truck appears in frame, adjusted into the intended position the driver wishes for it to be left in. In a moment, the lights on the vehicle power off, the truck parked facing the road below, driver’s side door gliding open before revealing a familiar figure. “That’s our smiley-face jacket” Beau exclaims, turning to Jake with a smile on his face. After minutes have passed, Beau and Jake return to the interrogation room, a laptop carried in the amused arms of Beau, who fights away the exhaustion in favor of sporting a pleased expression. “I’ve already told you, my client will not be answering any more of your questions” the attorney explains, Jake quick to explain to him that such a failure to communicate will only hurt Kerryon more than the truth. Facing the screen toward their suspect, Beau and Jake tell the man and his attorney to watch the proceeding video, a delightful press of the spacebar button from Beau’s fingers beginning to process. “Okay, you have my client climbing out of the vehicle in question… That’s not a crime” the attorney explains, Beau quickly argues otherwise. “The vehicle was reported stolen that same day” Beau explains, Jake quick to finish his partner’s sentence, “that puts him in possession of a stolen vehicle.” “I didn’t-” Kerryon begins, capturing the attention of the detectives instantly before his attorney cuts him off, demanding he remain silent on the matter. “Your client is currently racking up charges like they’re tickets at an arcade” Jake cuts in, his words directed toward the well-dressed lawyer, “if he wants to cash out before he gets himself into water that’s too hot… Now would be a good place to start doing that.” Looking at the screen anxiously, Kerryon remains quiet, Beau sliding the laptop a few inches to the side to allow Kerryon a good look at his face, voice returning to the tone of a whisper. “You’re too young to be throwing your life away before it can even get the chance to start” Beau explains, genuine concern for the kid shown in droves, “do yourself a favor and give yourself a fighting chance by telling us why you’re shown, on camera, setting a stolen car up in that position.” His eyes closing tightly, Kerryon battles with his inner thoughts silently, leaving the detectives on the other side of the table to patiently await a following response. “Mr. Schultz, we can get you off with probation if you stay quiet” the attorney explains, trying to keep his client from spilling more information than he already has, “any evidence they have pinning you to something bigger is merely circumstantial at best.” “It would be hard to get less than a few good years for possession of a stolen vehicle, obstruction of justice, stalking, and participation in an act of public disturbance all wrapped in one” Beau explains, “especially in a town so hungry for answers such as Remedy.” His eyes opening, Kerryon places his sights upon Beau, who looks at him with worry, pleading with the young man to give them something to work with. “Don’t get spooked, Mr. Schultz” the attorney exclaims, “they’re trying to scare you into giving them something to work with because they have nothing of use on you… Don’t give it to them.” Angry, Beau slams the surface of his hand against the table with his eyes darting back to the attorney, his frustration having reached a true high. “Don’t you ever shut up, jackass?” Beau proclaims in a question toward the attorney, “I’m trying to help this kid and you’re killing his future!” Hand held out, Jake pins Beau back into his seat, the show of restraint serving as a sign for Beau to regain his composure. “Kerryon, please tell us whatever you can” Jake says with a calm tone, his eyes setting back upon the younger man, the attorney remaining quiet in hopes of keeping Beau from bursting with anger once more. Looking back to the monitor, Kerryon stares at the picture portrayed on the screen before looking back to Beau, who looks right back at him. “I’m not saying anything” Kerryon replies, partially in defiance whilst showing an apologetic tone, Beau’s head falling toward the ground in disappointment. “Okay” Jake says as his lips pucker, hand finding the soft spot of Beau’s back before patting it. Opening the door, Jake waits for Beau to leave his seat, watching the young man depart in defeat before returning to the hallway. | “We’ve got a woman, mid-20’s, trauma to the head and found unconscious” an EMT calls out into the depths of the hospital, Penny being the first to answer the call for assistance with Clark soon to follow. “Do we have a name?” Penny asks, having thought to look to the face for identifying features. “Beth Ovorre, she’s the town’s librarian” the EMT responds, Penny’s face going cold as it looks back toward him. “Beth?” Penny repeats, looking back toward the bloody face of the woman before continuing to hurry the stretcher to the nearest bed. “Anne, can you call Avon and let him know? His number is in my cell!” Penny calls out, the EMT soon to inform her of yet-to-be stated insight. “Ma’am, your husband was the one that called it in” the man explains, leaving Penny confused, “he wasn’t with her on the ride over.” Allowing the new information to take a backseat to the needs of her friend-turned-patient, Penny descends upon the emergency room with only one thing on her mind, the situation remaining as tense as it was when the woman was stretchered in. Lights blinking as the doors on his vehicle are locked, a raincoat-clad Avon departs from the car he leaves on the side of the road before staring down at the night-covered scene of the crash. With a deep breath, Avon watches the colder air float through the air as it leaves his runny-red nose, a sudden cold filling the air. “I’m here” Avon calls out, his best hope being for someone to emerge from the shadows with a movie villain-like mystique to them. “Hello!?” Avon calls out, his eyes wandering around the roadside, the broken barrier directly before him, feet planted firmly on the ground to give himself leverage against any unwanted assault. “I take it you were the ones responsible for what happened to Beth tonight” Avon calls out, his arms hanging loosely by his sides, hands balled into a fist, ready to fight, “pretty low of you to attack a woman from behind like that.” As he continues to taunt the individual responsible for the chaotic unfolding of how the evening has fared, Avon’s eyes return to the bottom of the hill, taking in the deep drop that he’d have to descend in order to return to the thick woodland. Beneath the heavy darkness of the night, a sudden burst of light below becomes instantly recognizable, a trail of small lightbulbs illuminating below catching Avon’s eye, the trail leading into the depths of the woodlands’ unknown. “I’m not going down there” Avon shouts, refusing to play along with the people he holds accountable for Beth’s attack, making that sentiment known to those that may be listening in. Almost on cue, the lights proceed to go out, the trail disappearing into the night upon Avon’s refusal, leaving the man confused. “What is this game!?” Avon calls out, his anger beginning to build as he imagines Beth’s bloodied face in his mind, wanting to hold the person accountable. After a few seconds pass following his demand for answers, the trail of lights return to their illuminated form, silently calling for Avon to follow the trail to wherever it leads. With a sigh, Avon looks back to his vehicle, considering his options for a moment before glancing back toward the never-ending line of lights. Shaking his head, Avon bites the bullet, taking a seat on the ground before dragging himself down the steep slope of dirt until he reaches the bottom. Dusting himself off, Avon looks down at the lights, noticing the pointed bulbs at the end of the wires to appear similar to those of Christmas lights. Continuing forward, Avon makes steady progress, his back arched forward to allow him to hunch closer to the ground, a defensive position accompanying a similar stance, one that leaves his arms bent by his side. Each new step crunching a leaf beneath his heavy boot, Avon keeps his eyes aimed forward, every new inch of the trail being uncovered offering another five inches of trail left to be followed. Seconds turn into minutes, Avon’s journey continues as the slope he climbed down to follow the trail grows too far to be reliably seen upon a first glance. “I’m not gonna follow this nonsense forever!” Avon shouts, his arms extended as if he were portraying himself as a symbol of triumph. Stood in the middle of the forest without an answer, Avon removes his phone from his pocket, the screen lighting up the immediate area as he begins to text his wife. After writing the first few words, Avon’s phone suddenly dies, the screen turning to black as the only thing illuminating the area becomes, once again, the lights. Letting out a sigh of frustration, Avon looks around himself to notice something odd, a sight that strikes fear into his very core. Having failed to notice this moments before, Avon looks around himself in every direction, every tree apart from a mere few covered in a thick layer of fog, only a brief stretch of the trail of lights remaining visible. Refusing to believe that any confrontation going forward would be worth the trouble of having to fight blindly, Avon turns back toward the way he came and begins to march forward. As if it could notice the fear and refusal to cooperate, the trail of lights dies the moment Avon begins to walk in the opposite direction, leaving the man amidst a thick layer of fog beneath the near-midnight sky. Now completely lost, Avon turns his stroll into an outright sprint, his feet carrying him toward the direction he had just faced, hoping to lead himself where he wishes to be. Exhausted, Avon cuts his run short, placing his hands against his knees as he hunches forward, hoping to catch his breath before the ground beneath him gives in, dropping the man into a cavernous pit. With a brutal thud, Avon collides with the ground as it returns to being beneath him, a long stretch of stone bordering the hole he’s now found himself taking refuge in. With groans, Avon tends to his wounds, cuts on his head from the fall and overall soreness coming over him, the dark, yet noticeable night sky farther above his head than it previously was. Trapped, Avon calls out for help, looking toward the heavens with his arms gripping at his sides, ribs busted and other bones likely broken from the fall, hoping for mercy from anyone that could happen to be within ear’s reach of him. Answering his call for help in the opposite way Avon had intended, a mysterious figure slides a heavy manhole cover over the top of the hole, the dark sky above gradually vanishing from sight. “Hey!” Avon shouts, wincing in pain as each shout brings a piercing pain over his chest, the dirt from the cover being slid overhead falling over his face and head. “What are you doing!?” Avon calls out, receiving no answer as the sky vanishes completely. Left in the dark, Avon realizes what he’s gotten himself into, his cries for help falling away in favor of retaining as much energy as he can muster. Before long, a second situation comes over Avon, the feeling of water splashing over the top of his head immediately forcing him to pull himself to his feet. “What the fuck are you doing!?” Avon shouts, now forcing himself to lean against the walls of the hole as the water below begins to accumulate, every step he takes sloshing the liquid around. Still confused, Avon looks to the very little he can see of the pool of water at his feet, suddenly coming to a realization. “Are you trying to drown me!?” Avon calls out, the figure above returning the man no answer, leaving Avon to come to his own conclusions. Now pulling his hands away from his sides, Avon prepares for his true challenge, the water building up quickly, a fight-or-die scenario now being the only lifeline given to the man, his fate being left to his own hands. | Alone in the precinct, Beau watches replays of the security footage, looking at video evidence of a clear day just minutes prior to the car crash. With thin tape, Beau outlines the spot of where Avon’s car will have parked, where the crash occurred and where the truck remains. Prepared for a lackluster account of the accident, Beau rests his chin on his hand, a cup of coffee lifting to his lips before something peculiar occurs. Just under two minutes ahead of the time of the crash, Beau watches a thick layer of fog quickly roll in unnaturally, appearing like steam rising from the ground more than fog coming in from any one direction. Staring at the screen with his eyes squinted, Beau replays the footage, a second viewing providing no different perspective than that of the first he had. Lost for words, Beau leans back in his seat and watches the rest of the video play out, eyes widened when he finally sees a set of headlights. Not fifteen seconds after the fog rolls in, the designated spot for Avon’s car is filled by the sparse outline of his vehicle, Beau beginning to see the curious circumstances of Avon’s story become more clear in the matter of seconds. In complete surprise, Beau lets the footage roll, a set of headlights coming in opposite the King’s vehicle as expected, a curious sight appearing immediately thereafter. In the forefront of the video, a pair of red tail lights emerge from within the fog, staring back at the security camera as if to taunt a future-viewing Beau. Within moments, the taillights quickly fade into the clouded-abyss, followed by the vanishing of the oncoming truck’s own headlights seconds later. His jaw dropped, Beau finds Avon’s story to completely check out, his eyes remaining on the designated crash point, waiting to see what is left in the viewfinder once the fog lifts. “Please be there, Avon… Please be there, Avon” Beau mutters to himself, waiting for the final few seconds to pass before a smile emerges from his face. As the fog lifts, Beau watches Avon’s figure emerge from the natural cloak, a visibly terrified Penny cautiously trailing right behind him. Satisfied, Beau removes his phone from the drawer of his desk, his fingers dashing across the screen before finding his text message conversation with Jake. Allowing his thumbs to swipe across the on-screen keyboard, Beau types in a simple sentence, the heavy light covering his face. “Avon and Penny are innocent- video confirms it- 100% not responsible” the message reads, the blinders being removed from Beau’s investigation, his primary suspect no longer in the conversation. With a nod, Beau smiles at his screen until his phone powers off, the battery dying suddenly as the man’s face is consumed by the precinct’s dark interior. Confused, Beau looks around the large, empty room with confusion, his head shaking, not bothering to get worked up over it. His job done and night over, Beau leaves his seat and throws his jacket over his shoulders, eyes glancing at the window for a split second before becoming unable to leave it. Taken aback, Beau looks out at the fog-covered town of Remedy Hills, the building only a few feet away from his window being completely covered by the naturally-occurring phenomena. Squinting at the sight, Beau’s head tilts to the side, unable to look away from the dense covering over the town. “It doesn’t seem like Remedy likes that much” Jake texts back, Beau’s phone having suddenly returned to life, his partner’s text coming through immediately. “Why do you say that?” Beau types back, watching the bubbles appear on his screen, Beau becoming anxious to see the reply. “It’s nothing, a bunch of fog just came over my neighborhood once your text came though” Jake replies, immediately surprising Beau, who glances back to the thick layer outside his window. “But you’re fifteen minutes away on the other side of town” Beau responds, his text being read and not responded to. As seconds pass, Beau’s phone begins to buzz with a video call intended for him, Jake looking at him with confusion. “What do you mean ‘you’re fifteen minutes away?’” Jake asks, Beau instinctively flipping the phone around to show the fog outside his precinct window. “Well that’s unusual” Jake remarks, Beau returning his face to the camera, a look of concern coming over him. “I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come” Beau quips, a confused chuckle resonating from Jake, who attempts to make light of the situation. “It’s Remedy Hills, Beau...” Jake remarks, watching Beau’s face return to his picture, a glass of wine being raised into the air in Jake’s hand, “...it’s most certainly a sign of things to come” == Remedy Hills == “You’re awake early” Beth whispers from the end of the hallway, her hand held over one side of her face, refusing to allow her skin to be soaked in the light of the television screen. “Yeah, I should have warned you that I do that often” Avon replies, pouring a second cup of coffee for the woman, who now enters the kitchen, only a silky robe dawns over her shirtless chest and pajama pant-clad legs.
“It’s fine, I just didn’t expect it” Beth responds, graciously accepting the drink before leaning her back against the countertop, standing beside Avon, who stares toward the television monitor. Displayed on the screen, a local news reporter stands outside the King residence, a mob of people calling for the inhabitants to be locked away for the crimes they are innocent of. “It’s nothing to worry about” Beth mutters, the man having nearly ignored her statement of reassurance, eyes tumbling away from the television and onto Beth. “They’ll stop after a few days, and things will go back to normal” Beth continues, Avon shaking his head in denial, approaching the television set. “What normal are we talking about exactly?” Avon replies, placing his mug against the surface of a glass coffee table. “From my perspective, normal means everyone in the town silently hating me for being a writer and living in Remedy” Avon responds, eyes looking back to the television for a moment, “it’ll just be less upfront than this.” Head tilting to the side, Beth places her cup atop the counter, walking up to the man before telling him to look at her. “You’ll take your lumps just like everyone else does in this town” Beth remarks, “once you find your footing, things will start to change, regardless of how they started.” With a sigh, Avon nods, taking a seat in the reclining chair beside the table and looking toward the television once more, those in the streets beginning to break out into a cheer. “Get out of Remedy!” the people shout, as if their unified voices weren’t audible enough, the cheer is clarified by the reporter on the ground. “I have a hard time seeing the future when my present consists of this” Avon replies, arms resting against the sides of the seat as Beth takes a spot on the open couch. “Well for every instance of that” Beth says, sporting a wide smile with her finger pointed toward herself, “you’ll have an instance of this.” With a nod, Avon gives Beth the credit where it is due, his eyes returning to the television set in front of him, his eyes going from nonchalant onlooker to intrigued viewer. His eyelids narrowing, Avon gradually leans forward in his chair as his eyes fall upon the picture of the crowd, the corner of his screen sporting an icon very similar to one Avon’s become haunted by. “You know everyone in town, right?” Avon asks Beth suddenly, the woman becoming confused and concerned, answering in kind. “Some better than others, but yeah I do” Beth responds, watching Avon’s hand leave the side of the chair and extend outwards, a single finger raised toward the screen. “Who does the guy in the corner look like? The guy in the black sweatshirt?” Avon asks, Beth leaning forward herself to get a more focused view. “I don’t know, I can’t see his face” Beth replies, continuing to keep her eyes pressed upon the television, Avon remaining sat in his chair with his fingers crossed. “Please put the camera on him” Avon repeats to himself beneath his breath, Beth continuing to stare directly toward the corner of the screen, a sigh of frustration coming over her the moment the man falls out of view. Slamming his hand against the edge of the chair, Avon sinks into his seat in defeat, head shaking as Beth glances back at him, inquiring about what he saw. “The dude in the black sweatshirt had a smiley face logo on his back” Avon responds, leaving Beth still confused as to the importance of the man’s identity. “It’s- It’s nothing” Avon replies, lifting his hand to his face, wiping the exhaustion from his eyes, “just some stupid lead i was hoping to get.” Each question offering her fewer answers and more questions to ask, Beth gives in, sinking back into her seat without much to go off of. Trying to look back toward the television, her efforts come up fruitless, eyes trailing back to the man in her recliner, his face adorned with disappointment as his eyes refuse to leave the television. = Remedy Hills is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = Pulling onto the side of the late-morning street beneath a sky filled with gray clouds, Jake and Beau emerge from their cruiser, talking to themselves about how strange it feels to be driving in the direction those leaving Remedy would be driving toward. “I’ve been in this town for twenty-three years, Beau” Jake explains, “I can count on one hand how many times I’ve driven on roads that lead out of Remedy.” With a smile, the charming hothead turns to his elder partner and humors him. “Any of those times you’ve thought about not turning onto the roads that bring you back in?” Beau inquires, he and his partner walking alongside one another up a carefully-laid concrete path. “Nope” Jake responds, turning to the younger man with a smirk, “Remedy isn’t a place for anyone other than the people that want to stay in Remedy.” With a shrug, Beau lets the conversation end where it does, taking a few steps up toward a front door, pressing his hand against the metal railing and knocking upon the shell of a screen door. After a few seconds, the metal door just beyond opens slowly, an elderly woman and her younger son looking out at the pair of officers beyond the view of the screens. “May I help you officers?” the woman on the other end asks, returning the same unthreatening look of innocence to the officers as they offer her. “Are you Mrs. Schultz?” Jake asks with kindness, Beau’s attention being directed elsewhere. “Please, call me Veronica” the woman replies, Jake giving the woman a nod as she welcomes the pair inside, both officers shaking her hand and nodding toward her with appreciation as they enter the home. “I’m Detective Donovan” Beau says, his hand held toward the young-adult son standing in the middle of the room, the young man cautious to return the gesture. “I’m not gonna profile you” Beau explains, understanding the hesitation of a young black man toward a white officer, offering comfort as best as he can, “being black doesn’t make you any less human than my partner or I.” Allowing his caution to ease ever so slightly, Kerryon returns the handshake to Beau before doing the same to Jake, the conversation beginning with inquiries into the day of the crime. “Our station tells us you were the first call put in to report on the crash” Jake explains, hands tucking into his coat pockets, “can you tell us what made you put the call in?” Her hand motioning toward the couch, Veronica offers the cops a seat as she has one herself, Jake appreciate taking the offer. “I appreciate the offer, but I need to get the blood circulating in my legs again” Beau says with his own personal charm, “sitting in a car for long enough will have that effect on you.” “Suit yourself” Veronica responds, sinking into the cushions beneath her as her son stands at the back of the room, leaning against the wall between his bedroom and the kitchen. “Well it was earlier in the morning and I was sat in my chair, watching the news” Veronica begins, her finger aimed toward the chair that faces the television, “all of a sudden, I hear this big crash on the next street over.” “And it sounded like a car crash?” Jake clarifies, the answer he expected not being the one that he received. “No, it sounded like a car being slammed into by something heavy” Veronica replies, “and then I heard two more crashes before it all stopped.” With a nod, Beau asks the elderly woman what she initially thought of the noises. “Oh, I knew someone had run off the road” Veronica responds, “I just didn’t know how bad it was, or really anything other than that.” “So you just knew you should call the police and report it?” Jake wonders aloud, the woman agreeing to such a statement. “Between hearing the sound and calling in your report, did you stop to do anything else?” Beau questions, the woman cleaning her glasses in her lap as the question is asked. “Of course! I walked over to the window to figure out if I could see what had happened” Veronica replies, “but I couldn’t see anything other than a pair of headlights.” Confused, Beau walks over to the window Veronica had said she glanced out of, seeing a full view of the scene of the crash from the vantage point. “How could you have not seen anything?” Beau inquires, the woman admitting to the man what he once thought was too coincidental to be true. “There was so much fog, I couldn’t see anything but a heavy gray mist” Veronica explains, prompting Beau to glance back toward Jake, a satisfied look coming over the older man’s face. “Was the fog gone by the time you ended your call?” Beau asks, his eyes returning to the corner of his face, the woman assuring him of the truth behind his statement. With a smile, Beau gives a nod to the woman, voicing his appreciation for her time before gesturing for Jake to join him outside. Before he can place his first step outside of the door, Beau stops and looks back, pointing toward Kerryon at the back of the room with a smile. “What school do you go to?” Beau asks whilst Kerryon is hesitant to answer at first, only doing so when Veronica looks into his direction. “Peter Ashville High School” Kerryone responds, an answer that puts a smile on Beau’s face. “I thought I’ve seen you somewhere before! You go to school with my daughter!” Beau replies with a friendly smile, a response that puts a puzzled look upon Jake’s face. “Keep your grades up! I wanna see the entire class walking down for their diplomas on graduation day!” Beau calls back, Kerryon uncomfortably responding in kind. “I will” the young man responds, eagerly awaiting the departure of the officers from the home, watching Beau and Jake descend the front steps, closing the door behind themselves. Continuing to walk to the car, Beau leaves Jake in the dust, his partner remaining a good distance behind him, still confused. “You don’t have a daughter” Jake calls out to Beau, the younger detective turning around with his arms held outwards. “If we’re looking for people other than Avon, I’m keeping my eyes open” Beau replies, his finger aimed at the home, “there’s something in that room Kerryon doesn’t want us to see!” Glancing back, Jake glances back at the home, looking around it’s exterior before noticing something peculiar out of the corner of his eye. Off at the side of the home, a curtain noticeably falls into place as if it had just recently been parted, “Did you see that?” Jake calls out, Beau having been stood with his back leaning against the cruiser, a slight smile coming over his face the moment Jake calls out his name. “Call in for a warrant” Beau exclaims, pulling the cruiser door open and sinking into his seat, “right now, we’ve got more to see.” | “I’m a doctor, I don’t take days off because people storm my house” Penny responds, lifting a sandwich to her mouth and taking a bite out of it. “I’m not saying you should have called out, but I am surprised you’re not more thrown off by this” Anne replies, Penny brushing off the angry mob as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. “They wanna run my husband and I out of Remedy and have nothing to go off of” Penny responds, “I’m not going to re-uproot my life because they’ve got the wrong idea.” Placing her fork against the inside of the salad bowl before her, Anne tells Penny that she wishes she would have told her the truth about Avon’s profession. “I see why you did it, but I wish I could have known the new writer in town was sharing the same home with you” Anne explains, “I would have tried to offer advice or something like that… I don’t know, words of encouragement?” Laughing through the clump of bread in her mouth, Penny acknowledges her appreciation for Anne’s help, assuring her that the rocky road ahead is one she is ready to take on. Walking into the breakroom, Clark passively greets his fellow co-workers on his way to the refrigerator, apologizing to Penny for the ongoing situation at home. “It’s fine, my husband and I are staying at a friend’s house for a few days while all of this blows over” Penny assures, Clark giving the woman a pat on the back as he retrieves a plastic box with steamed rice and exits the way he came. “Already making friends in Remedy?” Penny asks, “impressive” the woman admits through the crunching lettuce between her teeth. “Well, it’s really Avon that made the friend” Penny admits, “the woman with the library further into town.” Her chewing slowly coming to a halt, Anne’s eyes dawn upon Penny, who returns to her lunch without a pause. “He’s made friends with Beth?” Anne asks, Penny nodding toward Anne’s inquiry, “she’s pretty cool for a librarian.” Not thinking much of it, Penny continues to eat her lunch as Anne tries to redirect Penny’s mind elsewhere, hoping to find a few things straightened out as the conversation advances. “You don’t see a problem with your husband making friends with the pretty librarian?” Anne asks, Penny’s eyes looking up toward the woman without concern, “your writer husband and the pretty, young town librarian? That doesn’t seem concerning to you?” Her chewing slowing to an equal halt as Anne’s, Penny’s eyes glance to the corner of the room as her head begins to slowly shake. “No?” Penny replies, her answer coming off sounding like more of a question, confused at the potential reasoning for why she should be. Shrugging her shoulders, Anne refuses to raise flags any further than Penny wishes for them to be, responding with a subtle “okay” before returning to her lunch. “We’re married, Anne” Penny explains, the sandwich gliding through the air in Penny’s hands, “we’ve been married for four years and he only just met her… I’ve got more trust in him than that.” Shrugging again, Anne repeats her previous response, “okay” only seeming to make Penny more frustrated than anything else. “Okay, I’ll bite” Penny responds, “why should I be concerned?” With a chuckle, Anne reminds the woman ahead of her where she’s currently staying. “You’re rooming with the pretty librarian after he’s only known her for a few days” Anne explains, Penny clarifying the reason for why. “She came to the house with the offer, Avon didn’t ask out of the blue” Penny replies, only further intriguing Anne. “Wait, she knew where you lived?” Anne inquires, Penny now responding in brief, one-word answers, waiting to see where the conversation leads. “Yeah” Penny responds, Anne continuing to push the direction of the dialogue down the path she intends for it to take. “So, naturally, your husband would have had to tell her where the two of you lived, right?” Anne asks, Penny believing otherwise. “I’m sure my husband didn’t give out our address to the mob of people protesting at our empty front door” Penny replies, “so I’m sure there are other reasonable explanations for where she got her information.” Placing her fork down, Anne places her hands in front of her, explaining that she doesn’t want to sew seeds of descension into her new colleague’s marriage. “I just want you to see how fishy all of this seems from a surface level” Anne explains, “I’ve had married friends put on blinders when something doesn’t look right, I just wanna make sure the same can’t happen to you.” Looking toward the woman with a blank expression, Penny eventually gives into the woman’s claim and nods her head, thanking her for taking interest. “I appreciate you having my back, needless or otherwise” Penny responds, Anne’s hands falling back to her lap before one lifts to return the fork to her fingers, Penny thinking to herself with each bite into her sandwich. | “Do you just sit there and write all day?” Beth inquires, Avon failing to hear her the first time she asks the question, his eyes peeling away from the screen a short moment later once the question is repeated. “What? Oh! Yeah, it’s my hobby as much as it is my job” Avon replies, his fingers leaving the keyboard for the first time in hours, wrapping amongst themselves to form a folded hand. “Do you do much else?” Beth asks, extending a hand with a freshly-poured cup of coffee toward the man, Avon graciously turning down the offer. “Other than talk to the only other person in Remedy that I know? Not really” Avon responds, watching Beth press the mug to her lips. “Do you do drink anything other than coffee all day?” Avon asks, Beth very quickly refusing. “Nope, and eventually, you’ll live in Remedy long enough to experience the same vice” Beth replies, yet again, another swig of coffee being taken from the mug and sliding down her throat. “Why is that?” Avon asks, the new functionality of a rolling desk chair sliding away from his makeshift workspace as his hands fold in his lap, “is there some stranglehold coffee has on Remedy?” “Yes” Beth responds, the single-worded response surprising Avon, who waits an additional few seconds for context that never comes. “Just ‘yes’?” Avon clarifies, watching Beth’s head enthusiastically bounce up and down. “Okay, now I’ll ask… Why?” Avon inquires, watching the woman set her cup down before pulling a chair before Avon. “Because Remedy is the city that, unlike Las Vegas, literally never sleeps.” Beth replies, “we haven’t in years, and we won’t start now.” “Years? Does the exact number of years happen to be thirteen?” Avon asks, putting the pieces together himself, allowing Beth’s answers to act as the glue to keep the pieces together. “Indeed they do” Beth responds, offering the man a smile as his satisfied nod proceeds, “ever since the day Remedy changed for obvious reasons, those that called it home simply didn’t feel comfortable going to sleep.” “So no one in this community sleeps?” Avon asks, the woman shrugging at the question, admitting the answer to be complicated. “Everyone sleeps at some point, but we’ve spent so long going a few days without sleep that it doesn’t phase us much anymore” Beth replies, “I don’t think there’s been a day since then where the majority of the town has been asleep on any one night.” Intrigued, Avon squints at Beth before letting out a deep breath, politely picking up the still-full mug of coffee intended for him before pressing it to his lips. “I suppose that means I should start getting used to it” Avon remarks with a smile, watching Beth shrug at the gesture. “One way or another, you’ll be spending a lot of time awake at night… It’s just part of this town’s DNA” Beth responds, “here’s to hoping you’ll be doing so from the comfort of your own home sooner rather than later.” “Are my wife and I not the ideal roommates?” Avon jokes, Beth shrugging off such a notion. “I just don’t want it to get to a point where I could reasonably request you pay rent” Beth responds, her head lowering after the words leave her lips. Eyes still drawn over the woman, Avon notices the change in her expression, watching her face turn back toward the man, expression having returned to the pleasant appearance it had taken on moments before. “You miss your dad, huh?” Avon asks, watching the woman’s expression return to the prior disappointment, his heart having understood the reason behind the change the moment it happened. Fingers wrapping around the outside of the mug to feel warmth, Beth swipes the hair from infront of her eyes while she stares into the dark liquid inside the mug. “It just gets lonely sometimes” Beth replies, lips puckering to the side as she speaks to the beverage, her words, though, still aimed at Avon, “no amount of days can pass without it still… feeling like there should be someone else here.” Leaning back in his seat, Avon watches the woman as she looks into the beverage for comfort, unable to make eye contact without feeling like emotions will outweigh composure. Understanding this, Avon refuses to pressure the woman into looking at him, spectating from afar and listening to every word. “For a long time, someone always was” Beth explains, lip falling between the tips of her teeth, jaw pressing slowly against her lips, keeping them where they lay until she speaks once more. “Now that everything is empty, it feels… too empty” Beth continues, “like I’m as alone as I always thought I’d end up being.” With a deep breath, Avon leans forward, the palm of his hand resting against the woman’s knee, his words leaving his mouth in a soothing tone. “No one is ever alone” Avon responds, watching Beth slowly allow her eyes to leave the mug and fall over the man ahead of her, “no matter how empty something feels, there is always something, even if it’s your own thoughts, always there to keep you company.” Her eyes falling back to the beverage, Beth nods to the man’s words, her hair falling over her face once again. With the quiet comfort in the air falling away at the sound of a grandfather clock in the corner, Beth downs the rest of her drink before standing up from her seat and fixing her hair. “Time to give the old man across the street his pills” Beth says in a joking manner, the woman walking over to a spot on the floor and tucking her feet into the sandals left there. “I mean it” Avon calls out, the woman having taken a bottle of medication into her hand and placed her fingers upon the doorknob as Avon’s words find her ears. “I know you do” Beth replies, giving the man a half-hearted, partially pain-filled smile before walking through the door. With a sigh, Avon looks toward the door for an additional few seconds before turning toward his laptop, staring into the bright screen with a look of dissatisfaction. With a huff, Avon places his mug upon the coffee table and returns his fingers to the keyboard beside him. Biting his lip, Avon reads the first line of his latest writing, allowing his eyes to keep glancing over from one side to the other before they close completely. With a swift click, Avon highlights every sentence since the first line in a light blue and wipes them off the face of the page, banishing them to literary purgatory. | Slamming the door shut, Beau and Jake emerge from their vehicle, Beau’s eyes resting upon the hill such a truck supposedly drove off whilst Jake’s lay on the still-broken guard rail. “When we get down there, I’m gonna want you and I side by-” Jake begins, turning toward Beau at the last moment, watching his younger partner ascend the hilltop alone, “-side.” Leaves crunching beneath his boots, Beau climbs to the top of the incline before looking around, hearing the world begin to erupt in angry-sounding thunder. “Find anything, Sherlock?” Jake inquires, Beau’s feet dragging along the already-damp ground as his eyes venture in any and all directions. “No, but I’m not exactly looking for anything in particular” Beau responds, continuing to march forward before stopping in a seemingly random spot. “Why are we suddenly hiking, Beau?” Jake asks in confusion, knowing the reason to be good, though admitting it to be too out of place to be easily understood. “I saw this hilltop from the Schultz’ window” Beau replies, turning his back toward the home and his focus in Jake’s direction, “it seemed like the highest point one could possibly access to overlook the scene.” When his eyes leave Jake, Beau glances toward the street below, a smile suddenly forming over the man’s face. “Look at what we have here!” Beau says with enthusiasm, pointing toward the street to prompt Jake to look in the same direction, the broken barrier in the direct-center of Beau’s sights, a long slope downwards suggesting a new theory. “We still didn’t find any tire tracks anywhere near here” Jake responds, his hands motioning around the woodlands aimlessly, “we need proof a truck was even parked up here, let alone descended with enough speed to take out a vehicle below!” A look of dissatisfaction coming over Beau for a mere moment, quickly the tides begin to change, Beau calling out for Jake with a newfound smile. “You called in that warrant, right?” Beau inquires, Jake having confirmed Beau’s suspicions, immediately asking for a reason for the stellar expression. “What would a newly-removed security camera set up look like?” Beau asks, “y’know, what’s left behind after you take down a bunch of security cameras around the outside of your home?” “There’d be some little platforms screwed into the outside, why?” Jake replies, walking forward at Beau’s gesture to do so. Finally catching up to the man, Jake looks out at where Beau’s finger is pointed, his eyes finding the Schultz home, curious black boxes left around random sections of the home. “Would they look similar to that?” Beau asks with glee, watching Jake turn toward him with a smile. Pulling up to the Schultz household, Beau and Jake emerge from their vehicles with three additional cruisers for support. Walking up the pathway, Beau does the honors of knocking upon the door, Victoria answering the officer’s call for entry. “Mrs Schultz, we have obtained a warrant to search your property” Beau explains, the woman pulling the door open for the officers, cooperating with authorities as they enter her home. “Detectives!” an officer shouts from outside, Beau and Jake immediately racing into action, demanding the other three officers continue their search inside. “What’s going on out here!?” Beau shouts, his hand on the grip of his firearm as Jake follows him around the side of the home. Upon first sight, Beau finds Kerryon dressed in a black jacket with a smiley face logo emblazoned on the back, a box of electronics and belongings spilled along the ground beside him. “This is racial discrimination!” Kerryon shouts, refusing to ease his struggle as Beau walks over to the box of belongings, pulling it onto its bottom and looking into its contents. Quickly, Beau and Jake notice the newly-removed security cameras and associated equipment, a smile coming over their face the moment they realize where the break in their case lies. “It’s actually nothing close to racial discrimination, Kerryon” Jake responds, cuffing Kerryon’s hands behind his back, “it’s an arrest on charges of ‘obstruction of justice’.” As Jake reads Kerryon his Miranda Rights, Beau takes a second glance into the contents of the box, a reflection of the dying daylight through the clouds reflection off the flimsy, plastic shell beneath the rubble of the electronics. Reaching inside, Beau takes the plastic content into his fingers and drags it to the surface, the wires from the discarded security equipment falling back into the box the higher the object is pulled away. “What is this?” Beau asks Kerryon the moment Jake concludes his reading of Kerryon’s rights, a flimsy, smiley face mask being held in the clutches of Beau’s fingers. “I’m not telling you anything!” Kerryon replies, continuing to refuse Beau and Jake anything to work with, a gesture that annoys Beau. “Fine” Beau responds, picking the young adult up by the neck and leading him to the cruiser, “we’ll just get you to speak up back at the station.” Loading Kerryon into the back of the car, Beau calls for the officers to continue their search, climbing into the driver’s seat with a smile on his face as he stares back at Kerryon in the rear-view mirror. == Remedy Hills == Angrily tossing the comforter off of his body, Avon rolls out from under the blanket and guides himself out of the bedroom, his body refusing to tire out, keeping him from falling into a badly-needed slumber. Toes pressing against the cold wooden floorboards, Avon’s mind only directs his body toward one thing, the clutter of overturned furniture and scattered belongings throughout the home taking a backseat to the need for a cup of coffee.
Through the darkness, Avon stretches his hand toward whatever remotely resembles a coffee pot, hoping his fingers would eventually stumble across what he looks for. In a moment of surprise, Avon’s knuckles brush up against something smooth, the reaction of whatever was grazed being to ring with an almost clattering-like sound. Pulling his hand back, Avon presses his knuckles to the fabric of his shirt, staring in the direction of what made the sound, unable to see it. Taking a single step back, Avon continues to peer into the darkness, almost inviting whatever it is concealed behind the vail of uncertainty to present itself. Now in a standoff, Avon takes a step to the side, pressing his hip against the counter with his head slightly leant to the side, the window just before his face allowing the moonlight peering through blinds to cover his face. Holding his breath, Avon pulls his hand to his chest and presents it forward, his arm gradually stretching further out into the unknown. With his knuckles pressing against the source of the sound, the clattering begins once more, this time, striking much less fear into Avon’s heart than it had the first time. Now unphased, Avon reaches through the thin uncertainty and wraps his fingers around what he takes into his hand, a simple ceramic plate being held in the light before his face. Rolling his eyes, Avon reaches back into the darkness and fumbles around for a short moment, finally pulling a coffee pot and accompanying mug into his hands. His finger pressing down onto the button, Avon leans over the counter, patiently waiting for the machine to warm up, using his mug to fill the contraption with water. Filter loaded with grounds, Avon starts the brew, patiently passing the time by looking out into the quiet street just ahead. Anxious, Avon’s paranoia returns, his breathing getting heavy as he recalls the sights of the van speeding off into the night, the imagery remaining plastered in the base of his skull. Looking to the palm of his right hand, Avon presses the tips of his fingers toward the base, dragging them along his skin to create a rubbery-sound. Closing his eyes, Avon listens to the coffee begin to drip into the pot, his mind recalling what the touch of the rubbery garden hose felt like in his hand. As coffee continues to dribble into the pot, every new drip takes on a different sound, the thud-like pitters no longer resonate from within, now replaced with a splashing drop. Recalling the sounds of the water splashing over the stairway and asphalt-covered drive, Avon continues to dive further into the memories he would otherwise wish to forget about. With a soft grunt, Avon pulls his eyes open and stares at the lip of the sink, its porcelain finish illuminated by the moonlight, time being rendered nothing of importance on the man’s mind. Letting the air leave his lungs, Avon lets out an almost whistle-like hum while the machine beside him audibly spurts out the final droplets. With a nod, Avon takes the pot off its place on the machine and pours himself the cup, taking the beverage without any sweeteners or flavors. Leant against the counter, Avon presses his hands against the mug, feeling the warmth flood his upper body as the smooth drink runs down his throat. Feeling himself calming with every breath that leaves his lungs, Avon stares off at the dark interior of the house and flips on a light, bathing the living room and kitchen in a sudden yellow glow. With a nod, the man places his drink on the counter and begins walking around the adjacent rooms, returning everything to their original positions. Cushions being returned to the couches and chairs being stood upright once more, Avon glances toward the end of the table he typically prefers to write at, the empty space ahead of his chair caused by the seizing of his laptop as evidence. Reminded of the situation he remains in, Avon loses the motivation to return the house to its normal state, allowing a few loose papers in his hands to fall to the floor, spreading out upon impact like a sad supernova. Shaking his head, Avon returns to the kitchen with a few candy wrappers in his hand, stepping on the pedal of the garbage can before dropping the trash in. Returning to the living room with his cup of coffee only inches away, Avon suddenly has an epiphany, his head slowly staring back at the can he had just emptied his trash into before his eyes widen. Disarming the alarm system, Avon exits the home through the front door and hurries down the small staircase to the stone pathway below, feet carrying him to the corner of his driveway nearest the two-car garage. As if he were in the desert and the trash can held the only source of water for miles, Avon reaches for the lid and throws it open, allowing the hard plastic cover to slam against the iron garage door exterior. Looking in, Avon finds a perfectly clean, yet-to-be-used garbage bin looking back at him, not a bag of trash, nor an amputated finger in sight. His eyes darting back and forth, each end of his neighborhood street coming into view, Avon runs back into the home, closing the door behind himself and flipping the lights off. Hands spread against the back of the door, Avon fights to regain control of both his composure and his breath, head instinctively darting to the calendar on his fridge. His eyes throwing their attention toward any random spot with writing on it, Avon eventually comes to find relief when his unorganized scramblings hobble toward one day in particular. “Trash day” Avon reads aloud with relief, a sigh escaping his lips as his wife staggers into the kitchen. “What are you doing!?” Penny asks in a gravelly-tone, the man having slid against the fridge to the floor, now sitting in the middle of the kitchen with a smile on his face. “I couldn’t sleep” Avon responds, still unable to wipe the smile away from his face, still breathing happily, “figured I’d come in here and put everything back the way it was.” Flipping the lights on, Penny reminds the man that not a single light is on in the home, a statement Avon takes no concern in. Shaking her head, Penny takes a seat beside her husband on the kitchen floor, Avon wrapping his arm over her shoulder and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll be okay” Avon says aloud, holding his wife’s head close as she closes her eyes, hoping to fall asleep with her husband’s arm as the pillow. “I know” Penny replies, the man looking toward the moonlight just beyond the kitchen window with a smile. = Remedy Hills is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards = Frustrated, Beau takes a stack of folders in his hands and slams it against the surface of his desk, his partner remaining unphased just ahead of him, continuing to read through reports as if nothing had even happened. “You should get control of your anger” Jake quips, Beau’s eyes trailing toward the man, his posture speaking to that of a man annoyed with his current predicament. “Keep your eyes on your own work” Beau quips, pulling a folder from the unorganized stack and reading the contents contained within. Shaking his head with a smile, Jake does as instructed, continuing to search throughout the various pieces of loose documents in hopes of finding something of value. Resting his elbow atop the desk, Beau continues to cycle through the hill of evidence without any luck. “Those papers aren’t a woman, Beau… You can’t just look at ‘em and leave” Jake jokes, Beau letting the one paper already between his fingers fall back to the pile, hands pressing against his face. “We already have the guy, I don’t see why we can’t call him into the station and grill him” Beau explains, Jake stating the case already previously stated multiple times before. “We have nothing to question him about other than that his story doesn’t line up” Jake explains, “unless we can say for certain that he had done what he’s accused of, we've got nothing of value.” Hands leaving his face, Beau presses his fingers together and lets the side of his hands slam into the desk, his eyes firmly resting upon his partner. “He said a truck caused the crash, the air was foggy and the crime was over before he even hit the bottom” Beau explains, “how can any reasonable man not, at the very least, find that irrevocably suspicious?” Shaking his head, Jake admits that he doesn’t know, but still refuses to pin anything on the man. “There was a truck found at the scene, it could have been foggy and this killer may work fast” Jake explains, “there are still open holes that we haven’t filled yet.” Returning his hands together atop the mountain of documents in front of him, Beau asks his question once more, arguing it to be potentially case-changing. “Why can’t we bring him in and ask him the questions ourselves?” Beau recites, “we’ve got holes in the case- let him fill them up for us!” A piece of paper already resting between his thumb and index finger, Jake relents, allowing the document to fall back to the surface of the desk, giving Beau what he wished for. “Let’s bring him in then, kid” Jake responds, leaving his seat and picking his jacket up off the back of his chair, an enthusiastic Beau following the man shortly thereafter. | “I’ll be back shortly” Penny says to her husband, leaving the man’s side in the middle of the psta section of the grocery store, Avon left behind the end of the shopping trolley. With a shrug, Avon glances back toward his list, eyes trailing down the long receipt, fingers pressed against the paper to extend the length of it, allowing for every listed item to fall before the man’s eyes. Heavily focused on planning his route around the store, a looming fear comes over the man in an instant, the hairs on the back of his neck rising while his hands slowly lower to the handles for which the cart is steered from. Not wanting to turn his head, Avon continues to keep his face forward, eyes planted firmly on the end of the hallway until his pupils dart to each corner of his eyes. One hand removing itself from the lengthy sheet of paper, Avon begins to return his palm to the handles atop the trolley, turning his head slowly to look back at whatever is prompting this unnerving reaction. Confused when he turns around, Avon lifts his eyebrow, eyes finding a stranger standing in the middle of the aisle, a trolly of his own before him, simply staring at Avon with a disgusted look. “May I help you, sir?” Avon asks, refusing to show fright, however, also refusing to back away from his ground. “You’ve got a lot of balls coming to Remedy Hills with a pen in your hand” the stranger replies, his eyes widened, spread to an almost ghostly-extent. “It’s actually a grocery list” Avon responds, playing equally dumb as he does sarcastic, watching the look of disgust on the stranger’s face grow more sour. “Do you think you’re funny?” the stranger asks, finally changing his stance, slowly moving his cart forward as Avon grows more defensive, ready to throw hands at a moment’s notice. “I think I’m rather amusing at times, sure” Avon replies, watching a feigned smile come over the stranger’s face, “more importantly, I think I’m rather able to lay you out where you stand if you keep getting too close for comfort.” With that statement, the stranger stops his progression, the front of his cart practically right next to the back of Avon’s in terms of proximity. “You and your wife don’t belong in Remedy” the stranger explains, Avon’s smile lighting up the store as he shrugs off the suggestion, assuring the man of his false assumptions. “I’m only making myself more comfortable here every day” Avon explains, “so if that threatens you, my suggestion is that you back away slowly before I make you regret it.” “Is that what you told that truck driver on the road a few days ago?” the stranger asks, Avon’s eyes narrowing as yet another smile breaks through his lips, the stranger refusing to show the fear in his body. “No, that’s not, because I didn’t kill him” Avon responds, “but the problem for you isn’t that I’m innocent of such a crime… It’s that the police in your town’s own department think that I’m capable of it.” Getting more comfortable with every second the conversation carries on, Avon begins to get enthusiastic about the debate, having found his opponent to be without the skills capable of standing a chance. Moving one foot in front of the other, Avon slowly approaches the stranger, who backs away until he no longer can, pressing against the shelves of the store’s aisle until Avon’s nose can nearly touch his own. “If I were you, I’d be very afraid of making an enemy out of me” Avon explains, “if you make me feel like I need to take matters into my own hands, I’ll be a suspect in a murder I will very much deserve to be a suspect in.” Lip quivering, the stranger continues to pull away, his feet pressing against the bottom-most shelf as his hands try to push him further up the structure to something resembling safety. Turning his head to the side, the stranger watches two men stand by the pair with their hands in their pockets, his hope having been restored. “Mr. King, we’d like to ask you and your wife some questions back at the station” Jake explains, Avon’s face turning toward the pair of officers standing in the aisle, hands releasing the collar of the stranger’s jacket, allowing him to run off. “How much of that did you hear?” Avon asks, his confidence turning to defense, Jake promising the man that they heard every bit. Looking back to Beau, Avon watches the man’s face turn sour with disappointment, having disliked the accidental confession of innocence. Seeing this reaction from the younger cop, Avon’s enthusiastic smile comes back over just as Penny returns to the aisle, inquiring of any issues. “We just need to answer some questions back at their hub” Avon replies, giving Jake a nod, the older officer looking back to Beau, who turns around with his head shaking, the exit of the store being the first sight taken by his eyes. | “Can you behave yourself?” Jake asks, he and Beau standing outside of a pair of interrogation rooms, Beau promising to go in with as level-headed of a mind as he can. “I’m serious here, Beau” Jake responds, Beau adjusting his posture to appear more professional, “we’ve already got the guy thinking we want him behind bars, there’s no reason to make him feel like the system is rigged for him to lose.” Hands held out, Beau promises to remain professional, reminding Jake that he wouldn’t have been let on the force otherwise. “I don’t think the person that assigned you to this department expected a case like the old one to pop back up” Jake replies, “I know you’re close to it, which is why we’ve kept it under the radar, and I want to make sure you will keep it that way.” “For the third time, I promise to remain professional” Beau responds, a nod of approval coming from Jake, who turns to enter the room with Penny in it. Watching Jake close the door behind himself, Beau’s eyes travel back to Avon, seeing the man sitting at the opposite end of the table, awaiting the first sight of an on-duty detective. His composure kept in check, Beau pushes the door to the interrogation room in and stares at Avon before anything else. “You gonna put the smoking gun on me now, or is that gonna happen after I leave the station?” Avon asks, leaning forward with a smile, “y’know… As a free man.” Understanding himself to be subject of an attempted lure, Beau calmly steps up to the table and has the seat opposite Avon. “Why were you coming in so early in the day?” Beau asks, hands folded atop the table, watching Avon get settled into his chair, attitude dropping to one more cooperative. “I like to wake up early in the morning” Avon replies, keeping his answers as impossibly rearrangeable as he can, “it was preferable to travel during the early sunrise than it was just after the prior sunset.” His head nodding, Beau opens a folder beside him and pulls out a collection of notes, Avon peering away instinctively, intriguing Beau. “What’s with that?” Beau asks, Avon looking to him out of the corner of his eye, gesturing for the man to specify his question. “What’s with the head tilt?” Beau asks, Avon shrugging his shoulders at the recitement of the question, left arm placed atop the back of his chair. “I don’t want to give you any reason to think I’ve planned some sort of answers out to make myself look innocent” Avon responds, his answer surprising Beau, “my story may sound crazy- but it’s true.” His jaw opened, Beau points his tongue to the corner of his mouth, just beyond his K-9 teeth as he reads what’s been written on the paper. With a nod, Beau returns the paper to the folder and approaches the door, tossing the folder onto the table just overlooking his room before returning empty handed. “Not a big note guy?” Avon jokes, having turned his head to find the man’s empty hands, Beau returning to his seat, expression unchanged. “You can face me now” Beau replies, Avon looking back at the man with his smile fading, an apologetic expression coming over him. “You can use the notes, I didn’t mean to make you feel like-” Avon begins, cut off by the man conducting the interview, Beau assuring the man opposite him that the decision was made purposefully. “If you don’t need a cheat sheet, neither do I” Beau responds, hands unballing from a loose fist and being placed firmly atop the empty table. “First question… Tell me your story again” Beau replies, Avon feeling like he and the officer are on a similar page for the first time since their unpleasant introduction. “And that was where your involvement ends?” Jake continues, Penny assuring the man of the accuracy in her story. “Avon went down, looked at everything and then told me not to follow” Penny responds, blonde-highlighted hair falling over her shoulders and ending somewhere beneath the surface of the table top, “so I called police and he climbed up the hill as I did so.” “And all of this happened in the fog?” Jake asks, his pen tapping against the cold table’s surface, allowing the clicking sound of plastic tapping to run through the room. “No, the fog started lifting pretty quickly once Avon reached the break in the barrier” Penny clarifies, “before that, he was just walking into the fog without really knowing where he was going.” With a sigh, Jake places his head in his hand, elbow propped up on the table as he runs the cap of his pen over numerous lines of dialogue transcribed onto the paper before him. “Has he told you anything about that day since then?” Jake inquires, lifting the cap of his pen from the table, pressing it against the tip of his thumb, “preferably what he saw down there?” Her lips puckering into one direction, Penny shakes her head in declination. “All he said was that it was something he wouldn’t want me to know about” Penny replies, watching Jake’s head nod, “if it’s as bad as you’ve led me to believe it is, then he’s probably right.” With a deep breath, Jake nods one more, using the cap of his pen to tip the folder shut, allowing the light manilla cover to return to covering the papers. “Where did it lead?” Beau asks, Avon’s face lowering the moment the question is asked, his hands having been laid-flat against the table much like Beau’s has. “I don’t know” Avon responds, Beau’s face showing the expression of frustration, a gesture which Avon had come to expect. “I’m not kidding” Avon remarks, Beau’s face lowering into one of intrigue the more Avon speaks, “I know it led away from the truck and into the woods… Deep into the woods.” “You didn’t look for where it led?” Beau asks, “you didn’t think there was a chance this guy was still alive and needed help?” His head lifting from the table, Avon looks Beau in the eyes, both men beginning to understand exactly what Avon follows up by putting into words. “We both know there was too much blood running down there for that guy to have lived” Avon replies, holding back the grimace of horror that threatens to loom over his face, “I didn’t want to look.” Nostrils flaring, Beau struggles to find other routes to lead the conversation toward, looking Avon in the eyes, and finding nothing but genuinity in them. “Was it difficult to go back to unpacking like nothing had ever happened?” Beau inquires, Avon’s head shaking in refusal. “Why not?” Beau asks, watching the unamused smile coming over Avon’s face, his obvious efforts to keep his sadness from coming over his expression remaining obvious. “I didn’t see where that blood trail led” Avon responds, looking off into the corner of the room with his head still shaking, “no matter what I saw at the scene, I kept reminding myself that I didn’t have to see wherever that trail led to.” Eyes lowering to his own hands, Beau becomes the first of the two to remove his palm from the table, returning them to his side before picking himself up from his seat. “You’re free to go” Beau says, not giving Avon another look as he leaves the room. | “He’s literally the only person we can pit at the crime scene” Beau explains, Jake’s confused response bringing need for clarification. “I thought you just said your opinion was changing?” Jake asks, Beau assuring the man his opinion has shifted. “I’m not certain he did it anymore, that much is clear!” Beau replies, leaning back in his seat as his hands dance through the air with his every word, “but there’s only one guy we can put on that ground at that time, and guess who that is!” Head hung in disappointment, Jake nods to himself, considering his options as Beau reminds the man that there’s only one way to shift any blame. “If neither of the King’s are the ones responsible, we need to find a second person to shift the blame onto” Beau explains, “until we can prove something like that, Beau is still guilty in my eyes… I don’t know how or why he could have- or would have- done it… But he’s the only person that could have.” “We have to go back” Jake responds, lifting his head from being directed at the ground to being directed toward his partner, shoulders shrugging apologetically. Beau’s expression shifting, the younger man finally accepts the awaiting truth before giving Jake a nod of approval. In silent agreement, Jake pats the top of Beau’s desk before taking his jacket from the back of the chair, throwing it over his shoulders and calling it a night for himself. | Beckoned for by a knock at the door, Avon takes himself from one side of the house to the other, his thumb pressing against the latch on the doorknob to answer who stands on the other side. “Greetings” Beth exclaims, her presence at his door surprising Avon, “I heard you guys were taken down to the station earlier today… If everything alright?” With a nod, Avon explains that it was nothing more than routine questioning. “I figured as such” Beth replies, “I have to be honest, I was really worried when they came into the library asking where you were the whole day.” With a nod, Avon brushes off the reasoning and simply offers his appreciation for the woman’s help. “What masked guy were they talking about?” Beth asks, her following question surprising Avon and confusing Penny. His mouth opening without offering up a response, Avon stands in the doorway silently, Penny looking toward her husband as Beth watches on, both concerned and confused. Calling her husband's name, Penny inquires about the masked man Beth is referring to, Avon being forced into refusal. “The officers said they found someone watching over the property and he ran off when they called for him… Officer Donovan- of course- thought the man was me” Avon responds, answering poorly. “There was a man stalking our house?” Penny asks, her eyes widened, body stricken with concern as Beth begins to worry her concern to only be bound to rise. “That’s what the detectives think, and they’re monitoring it” Avon replies, trying his best to brush off the instance as nothing more than a nuisance. “I’m sorry, are you suggesting that I should have faith in the same people trying to frame you for whatever you saw on that first night?” Penny asks, now concerning Beth. “Was there something more than a car crash out there?” Beth asks, her eyes trailing toward Avon, the same being the case for Penny, both women now looking to Avon for answers. “Yeah, there was more to that crash… A bit more” Avon responds, watching Beth’s eyes roll with concern, her words demanding the couple get a small bag of clothes ready. “The town is hearing about your encounter quickly” Beth explains, “pretty soon, you’ll have a town full of stalkers, and not just a weird kid in a mask.” “We’re not letting the locals run us out of town, Beth” Avon explains, suggesting the couple can handle any amount of people that come their way. “Don’t be stupid, I’m bringing the two of you back to my place” Beth explains, snapping her fingers in front of Avon’s face to gather his undivided attention. “Furthermore, this wouldn’t be a little group arguing with you in your front yard” Beth explains, “that story you’re writing? Yeah- it would be a whole town deciding to make you the killer.” His head shaking, Avon eventually comes to his senses, recalling all of the names thrown into the hat of multiple murders throughout the years, all still associated with such cases for better or for worse to this day. With a sigh, Avon turns to his wife and gives her the nod of approval, small suitcases being loaded with clothes as Beth leaves to make room in her car. Approaching his computer, Avon unplugs the cords from the wall and loads his equipment into a carrying bag, his eyes catching the confusing sights a few feet away, just beyond the sliding glass patio door. Alone in the living room, Avon steps onto his porch with confusion, eyes widening the moment he crouches down to lift a present left for him below. Wrapped in a bow with a note attached, Avon looks at the severed finger laid on its side now placed in his own hand. Unfolding the note, Avon reads what has been left for him with horror, his eyes returning to the treeline, where a glowing smiley-face mask disappears into the depths of the woods, taunting him in his worst hour thus far. “Be more careful with discarding your presents” the note reads, eliciting dread from Avon, “it could make all the difference, new guy.” Standing upright, Avon stares out into the forest as Penny rounds the corner, looking out at the patio where her husband looks off into the night sky. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Penny asks, Avon continuing to look toward the forest unphased as his wife utters the question, Beth just walking through the door as Avon turns around, confident in his posture. “We’re being watched” Avon replies, his wife nearly dropping the handle to the suitcase as Beth lets out a fearful breath. == Remedy Hills == |
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December 2023
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