Bughead 🔥❤️

Chapter 19

Heyyyyyyyy i haven't written in a while but here's a chapter...make sure to read all the way to the end and then some because I'm going to write a little thing about me theories.

Betty felt Jughead's body go slack. She tried holding him up, but she couldn't support his weight so she eased him to the floor, his back against the bars of FP's cell.

"He's dead. He's dead. He's dead," Jughead mumbled. He rocked himself slightly, his head down. This was a fear Jughead had shared with her before. He was terrified his dad wouldn't survive in jail. "They killed him and I never got to tell him that I love him."

"No," Betty said firmly. "No, that's not what happened." The truth was he could be right, but Betty refused to believe it. There had to be a simple explanation.

Jughead continued to whisper to himself, and he was crying now, rocking back and forth harder. For a moment, Betty was taken off guard at what to do. Lately he'd been the one comforting her. But because of that, she knew what he needed from her. A calming, supportive presence. She kneeled in front of him, and when he didn't acknowledge her, she took his face in her hands.

"Jug," she said softly. He didn't respond. "Juggie." Her voice was more firm this time, drawing his attention to her. She brushed some of his dark hair out of his eyes, and he looked up at her. "Hey, it's going to be okay. I'm going to find out what happened. Okay?"

He nodded. "I can't lose him, Betty. I can't."

"You won't. I promise. I'll be right back." He nodded again as she kissed him on the top of his crown beanie. She moved back through the maze of tightly packed desks to where Carol sat at the receptionist area. Carol's back was turned and she was on the phone. Impatient Betty almost plucked the receiver from Carol's hands and hung up the phone, but decided against it when she realized Carol might be on an important life-threatening call. This was the Riverdale police department, after all. Even if the police force was a joke, Carol still could be dealing with something important.

Once Carol hung up the phone, Betty tapped her on the shoulder. "Where's FP?"

Carol turned around. "What do you mean? He's in his cell. Where else would he be?"

"He's not there. The cell is empty."

Her eyes widened. "No, it's not," Carol said. She shut her romance novel and placed it in her desk drawer. "I know he's there. He had a visitor not an hour ago. Then Keller told me not to allow anyone else to see him today." Carol spun around in her chair again and started typing on her computer. "That's impossible. No one leaves the jail cells without me knowing. I do all the discharges." A black screen with green lettering popped up. She typed in Forsythe Pendleton Jones II. The word Transferred blinked at them. "I don't get it. I'm the only one authorized to release prisoners."

"Does it say where he was transferred?" Betty asked.

"No. Pending," she replied.

"How do prisoners get transferred? By bus? Van?"

"Usually a US Marshall escorts them. But none have come in today."

"Unless. . . Unless Sheriff Keller went behind my back and moved him." Betty said.

Carol grimaced as she picked up the phone. "I'm going to make some calls."

"Okay, I'm going to check on Jughead. Let me know what you find out." Betty turned to go back to her boyfriend, but stopped. "Thank you, Carol."

A stunned Carol looked up at her. "You're welcome. I tried not to, but I like FP. I really do. Thirty years ago he broke my daughter Sheila's heart, and I held onto a grudge. But he was just a kid. So is Jughead. I'll find out where his dad is."