"But maybe there's nothing left to say
You're just the grass on a stranger's grave
And I'm still ashamed of the wreckage I left in your life"
-Simple Creatures
Maggie
The sirens pierced the air, pulling the attention of everyone in the area. They weren't an uncommon sound for the city, but the fact that they stayed nearby, getting louder and more urgent by the moment, made Nick and the Hale's wonder what was going on. They went out to investigate, unsure what they might find.
There were first responders gathered near the river down the street. Maggie's heart clenched with anxiety, worried about whatever poor soul had met their misfortune in the river. It was usually a child, or maybe someone who wasn't good at swimming, though there hadn't been much rain lately, so the waters were definitely on the low side.
Of course, a crowd had gathered at the banks, as much as the police and firemen struggled to keep people back. Maggie edged closer, finally able to catch a glance of the body laid out near the riverbank. She gasped, recognizing the man instantly.
"Poor Butch," someone in the crowd said, one of the neighbors that also recognized the man, "He just couldn't take it anymore."
Nick pushed forward through the crowd. "It can't be," he said, "He wouldn't have the nerve to go through with it." He looked at the body for a long moment before turning away, unable to bear the sight any longer.
The police arrived, asking if anyone knew the man. Maggie, in a stupor, was the only one that offers up information. No one else seemed willing or able to escort the officers to Butch's house to collect his wife and identify the body. It was a terrible duty, one she felt ill-equipped to perform, but there was no one else.
No one was surprised at the news, a few days later, that Butch's wife had followed him in death. The sickly woman had borne such pain and hardship that it seemed almost a blessing if it weren't for the children they left behind.
Maggie thought she was well and done with policemen for a good long while. Therefore, she was surprised when Dixie came into her room just a few nights later.
"There's a policeman at the door, Maggie," Dixie said, her brow furrowed with concern. She just knew this was something to do with Finn.
Looking up from the book she was reading, Maggie answered with her own worried look. "Did he say what he wanted?" she asked.
Dixie shook her head sharply. "No, but I've shown him into the front room. You're the one he wants to talk to, Maggie," she shuddered as Maggie hopped up, neither of them comfortable with this new turn of events.
The detective had made himself quite at home on the couch by the time Maggie came into the room. After introducing himself, he jumped right into his reason for coming by. I'm sorry to bother you, especially at such a time," he said, telling Maggie that he knew something about her family and what they had been through recently. "But there has been a death that I'm investigating, a man that sustained injuries after a fall. That fall seems to be the result of an altercation with a man at a Greyhound station..." he paused her, looking at his notes and seeming to gather his courage. "There's a witness that states the fight was started after the deceased made suggestive comments about a young lady. We have reason to believe that you are the lady in question."
His words made Maggie's blood freeze in her veins, though she struggled to keep her facial expression under control. "I was not there," she said quietly, amazed that her voice sounded calm in contrast with the panic she was feeling.
"The witness said the lady was very beautiful," he continued as if he hadn't heard her, "named Maggie, a friend of the Higgins, who he said frequented the Waffle House, which is where he works. You are Maggie and are friends with the Higgins, isn't that correct?"
She met his eyes with as blank of an expression as she could muster up. "Well, I..." she stumbled, trying to work out what to say. "As much as I'd love to be called 'very beautiful'," she saw the detective blush a bit at that, "I'm afraid there has been some mistake. I was not there."
Nodding, the detective put his notepad away. "Alright then," he paused, unsure where to go from there.
Maggie could tell that he didn't believe her. "Is there anything else you need to ask me, Detective?"
He shook his head, looking puzzled. "No, I suppose that's it." Turning to leave, he stopped again, "You are absolutely denying that you were the lady at the Greyhound station that night?" he asked one more time.
"Listen, I'm sorry about what happened to... this man. But again, I wasn't there. It wasn't me." She sounded firmer this time, hoping that it would be enough for the detective.
He stared at her for a long moment before nodding. "It's possible that the witness will insist that you were present at the scene of the incident. If that happens, I may need you to come down to the station, provide an alibi and all that."
A deep frown creased Maggie's forehead, but she nodded, not trusting herself to say anything further. Detective Mason walked towards the door, turning one more time before stepping out, as if in afterthought. "I'm sorry if I seem impertinent," he said. "But I do have to do my duty as an officer of the law." To Maggie, it sounded like both a warning and a threat.
John
He was finishing up work for the day when there was a knock on his office door. "Come in," he called out, expecting it to be one of his workers or maybe a delivery man. He was surprised to see Mason standing in the doorway. "Oh, hey. What's up?" he asked, setting aside the papers he had been looking over.
Standing awkwardly, Mason looked around the room. "Remember that body I was going to investigate?" he asked, never quite looking at John.
"Sure, his name was Leonard, wasn't it?" John said, motioning for his friend to sit down. "Word on the street is he was a terrible drunk, though that's no excuse for someone to kill him. My sister's personal trainer was dating him, unfortunately. She's been a mess all week. Lord knows why she has to be at my house to cry about it, she's better off without him either way." He was watching the way Mason sat on the edge of his chair, looking nervous the whole time.
Nodding, Mason finally met John's eyes. "The girl you were talking about the other night, her name is Maggie, isn't it? Maggie Hale?"
Hearing her name out of the blue sent waves of pain through John's heart, but he tried to keep his voice even. "Yes, why do you ask?"
Waiting for Mason to continue, John saw that he was hesitating. "It's just..." the detective said, after a pause that felt eternal, "it seems like your Maggie is connected to the death of this Leonard guy, somehow." He got no response from John, just a blank, unblinking stare. "There's a witness," Mason continued, "that says he saw Maggie with a man at the Greyhound station that night. He claims it's the same man who fought with Leonard at the Greyhound station and might have been the cause of his death. I've spoken with Maggie; she denies ever being there." He stopped, waiting to see John's reaction to this stream of information.
"Are you sure?" John asked quietly, wheels turning in his head as he tried to work out the timeline. "I mean, are you sure the man she was seen with is connected to the death? When was this again, what time?" He didn't like that puzzle pieces that were falling into place in his mind.
Mason pulled out a notepad to confirm. "It was around 2 a.m. on the 26th," he said, watching as the color drained from John's face.
Staring at his hands, John was quiet for a moment. "And she says she wasn't there?" He asked, struggling to keep the panic from his voice.
"Yep. So, you can see my problem, right?" He sighed. "The witness is very positive that it was Maggie Hale he saw, even after I told him of her denial. I'm afraid this situation is very awkward. I don't like to doubt the word of a respectable young woman, but I'll have to do a more thorough investigation." Mason stood up and paced the floor in front of John's desk for a moment, hating this part of his job.
John sat back, watching Mason. "She says she was never at the station?" He asked again, just to make sure he had it right.
Sitting back down, Mason nodded. "Yes, she says she was not there that night or any other. I was hoping since you knew her and were a friend of the family..." he trailed off, not sure what he was hoping for. He just knew he didn't want to have to pry into this woman's life without talking to John first. Maybe he had some reasonable explanation for the whole thing.
"Right. No, you're right. I'll look into it and get back to you." John stood up and reached out to shake his old friend's hand. Mason was relieved; he'd been worried John would take the whole thing the wrong way, knowing how volatile he could be under certain circumstances. He was glad to pass off that responsibility for a little while, at least.
Peace and quiet were in short supply at the Thornton's home. While John and his mother sat at the table working quietly on their own duties, the silence was punctuated by sobbing that could be heard all the way from Faith's room. "Why is Jane here?" He finally asked in frustration. "Doesn't she have her own home to wail at? She's better off without that Leonard guy, anyway."
Mrs. Thornton shot her son a scathing look, shocked at his lack of compassion, but chose not to justify Jane's presence at their house. "You know what they are saying about Maggie. Out in the middle of the night in some liaison with a strange man, getting involved with characters like Leonard." She raised her eyebrows in suggestion of all the uncivilized things the girl could have been up to.
It seemed to John that there was no escape from reminders of Maggie. When all he wanted to do was throw himself into his work and try to forget about her, she was constantly pulled back into his mind. Not that she ever left in the first place, really. "I do not know or care what they are saying," he said angrily before getting up and stomping to the music room to drown out the crying that still echoed through the house.
Maggie
Every hour that passed made Maggie more anxious as she went without word from the detective. She wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad sign, though she had never been a firm believer in 'no news is good news'. She had started to form a plan of fleeing to Mexico to stay with her brother when the detective appeared on her doorstep a few days later.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting," he said, declining her invitation to have a seat. She decided to remain standing as well. "I had a few other people to speak to before a final decision was made. It seems that there is to be no further investigation into Leonard's death at this time."
The breath was knocked out of Maggie, forcing her to sit down. She closed her eyes for a moment before looking back up at the detective. "So that's it then? The case is closed?" She wasn't sure how that had happened so quickly.
She could tell that Detective Mason was not exactly pleased with this development. "Yes, after interviewing the witness and speaking with John–"
"John?" Maggie interrupted him. "John Thornton?"
With an annoyed look, the detective nodded slowly. "Yes, he was also seen in the area that night. And he is a friend of mine. I thought he might have seen you or the deceased, so I talked to him about the... difficulties." He pulled a note out of his pocket, frowning at it before handing it to her.
It was John's writing on the page, a brief note stating clearly that he had not seen Maggie or anyone else at the station. She could hardly believe it, that he would lie so boldly to the authorities. All for her. "And John, I mean, Mr. Thornton, he understood that I wasn't there? It wasn't me at the station?" She looked up to see the detective staring at her so intensely that it made her uncomfortable.
"Yes," he said tersely. "I apologize for seeming to doubt you," he shook his head, still looking puzzled at the whole thing. "The witness was so sure. But now he knows he was mistaken. Hopefully, we haven't caused any offense with all this trouble." Detective Mason accepted the hand that Maggie offered to him as she led him to the door. "Have a good one, then," he said.
Sagging against the door in relief, Maggie looked up to see Dixie standing in the hall, concern written on her face. "It's okay. It's over. Everything is okay." Maggie only wished it were true.
John
The man behind the counter smiled and waved at John as he walked into the Waffle House. John gave him a friendly smile before settling into his usual stool at the bar. "What'll you have, then? Too late for coffee?" The big man seemed to never age, looking the same as he had when John used to come here for breakfast with his father as a child. The cook was probably wearing the same grease-stained apron, too.
It was well after midnight. John had been wracking his brain for an explanation for hours, before finally deciding to come to speak to the witness himself. He knew it must be Arnie; John had seen the man himself that night, even spoken a few words to him. There had been no one else around that he had noticed.
"I probably shouldn't," John said, scanning the menu for an alternative. He smiled suddenly, a memory surfacing at the sight of the unchanged menu. "How about a hot chocolate?"
Arnie grinned. "Well if that doesn't take me back. Want a chocolate chip waffle to go with it?" It had been his go-to order as a kid. John was surprised the cook remembered so many years later. It had been years since John had ordered that combination.
It sounded good, too. "Sure, why not?" The restaurant was almost empty, with just a couple other patrons sitting in the booths and a younger girl washing dishes. The jukebox was playing the old country songs that added to the strong sense of nostalgia washing over John.
"So, what brings you in tonight, Johnny Boy?" Arnie asked as he sat the waffle and hot chocolate down in front of him. Leaning on the counter, he watched as John drowned the waffle in syrup.
John looked around, noticing that no one else was paying them any attention. "What makes you think I have a particular reason?" He asked, knowing the older man was smarter than his position in life let on.
A quick snort told John he was right. "First that detective comes in asking questions, and now you. That's no coincidence, I'm sure."
"You're right," he admitted, "I wanted to talk to you about what you saw at the station." The other man looked undisturbed by this; he just nodded knowingly. "Mason said you saw a woman there that night."
Arnie nodded again. "Yep, that Maggie girl who was always with the Higgins kids. I never forget the ones that I serve their first Waffle House waffle, you know. Just like I served yours." John could tell that meant something to special to the man. "Before you say anything," Arnie continued, "Yes, I'm sure, no, I wasn't seeing things. Now, what that all means is beyond me, but them's the facts as I know them."
Chewing slowly, John tried to think how to proceed. "I believe you," he said. The other man looked surprised. "That's not quite what I came to ask. See... I don't think Maggie was involved in the man's death. No, I'm sure she wasn't. I can't tell you how I know, but I do." He took another bite to give himself more time to think.
He was surprised to see a small smile on Arnie's face. "Oh, that's how it is then. Well, in that case, I must have been mistaken. It must not have been Maggie that I saw that night." He laughed at the look of shock that John wore. "Come on, son. I was young once, too. Don't worry, we'll have this all worked out in a jiffy."
John couldn't believe it was that easy. Just like that, the problem was solved. Maggie and her father were safe from further scrutiny. His conscience pricked at him for the lies. He hoped he was right, that Maggie really wasn't involved in the death of that drunkard. Otherwise, he wasn't sure he could live with himself.
Maggie
The knock on the door pulled Maggie out of her brooding thoughts of John and his reasons for helping her. As if she conjured him up, there he was on their doorstep. "John," she said, surprised but glad that he was there. Her father had been missing his company very much. She knew it would do him well to spend time with John, playing piano and talking like they used to.
"Maggie," he said stiffly, waiting for her to invite him in.
She realized they had been standing there much longer than necessary. "Oh! Come on in," she said finally, motioning inside. "Dad is in the music room."
All she got in reply was a nod. She watched as he turned to go, seemingly eager to leave her presence. Maggie had thought his intervention with the police meant something. That maybe he still cared for her, that he had forgiven her for the things she said before.
She felt desperate, realizing how wrong she was. "John," she said quickly, stopping him in his tracks. She could see his back straighten before he turned, his features arranged into a mask of indifference, hiding whatever he might be thinking. "I need to thank you," she said, the words feeling wholly inadequate once out of her mouth. There was no way to express the gratitude in her heart. There was something else there, too, something she couldn't even begin to understand, much less put into words.
When his eyes finally met hers, she could see the fire behind them. "No," he said so forcefully that she wanted to shrink back. "Don't thank me." In just a couple steps of his long stride, he was directly in front of her, full of energy and barely restrained anger. "Do you even realize the position you've put yourself in, the danger? You don't have any explanation for what happened that night or your behavior since then? I thought I knew you, but now I don't know what to believe anymore."
The anger pouring off him was almost a physical force, one Maggie didn't have it in her to match. She didn't have an explanation; she knew she was wrong. There was nothing she could say to make him understand. "Please, John... I can't imagine what you must be thinking of me. I know how bad this all looks, but... The man I was with, he, well." She stopped herself short of telling him everything. If only she could explain, layout the whole story for him to see. But she couldn't; aside from the danger to Finn, Maggie was sure John would hate her after hearing what her brother had done, abandoning his duty to his country and his family. "It's not my secret to tell. I can't explain without hurting him, too," she finished, looking down.
It was quiet for a moment. She looked up and saw John's steely gaze was still firmly fixed on her. "John? Is that you?" Her father called from the music room, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "Come on back!" He sounded excited at the prospect of spending time with his young friend.
"I don't have the slightest desire to pry into another man's secrets," John said, his voice quiet but still filled with force. "I am only worried as your father's friend, that's all. I hope you realize that any ridiculous feelings I had for you are completely over. I'm moving on." With that he turned on his heel and walked down the hall, not looking back to see the effect his words had on Maggie. She was left standing there, staring after him, feeling strangely empty at the loss of his presence.
John
There was no way to avoid visiting the Hale's with good conscience. John thought he had already left it too long, had abandoned his friend when he was needed most. The dread in his chest at seeing Maggie again sat like an anvil, weighing him down more and more the closer he got to their house. He hoped that she wouldn't be home, that by the grace of God he would be able to avoid seeing her.
No such luck. Of course, she was the one who opened the door. "Dad is in the music room," she said softly after their awkward greeting. He just nodded and went to move down the hallway, wanting their interaction to be over as quickly as possible. "John," she said before he could escape. He stopped, taking a moment to gather himself. He wasn't sure he could face her much longer without letting his feelings slip out. Carefully, he kept his face as blank as possible as he turned around.
"I need to thank you." He wasn't sure what he expected her to say, but that caught him off guard. It wasn't what he wanted to hear; he wanted an explanation, some reason for the things that had happened over the last few days, not her useless gratitude.
She visibly balked when he spoke. "Don't thank me." John felt like a floodgate had been opened, letting all of his anger and confusion pour out at once. "I thought I knew you, but now I don't know what to believe anymore." There was so much more he wanted to say, but he stopped himself. Maggie looked like a scolded schoolgirl. He could tell there would be no explanation coming.
Standing so close to her was disorienting. It was a mistake to close the distance between them; he would have been better off on the other side of the room. "Please, John." His heart wrenched as she begged him to understand. Yet she was asking too much. This wasn't something he could just let go based on her assurances that things weren't as they seemed. It was all too much.
Mr. Hale's interruption was perfectly timed. John wasn't sure what he would have said if the silence had stretched out much longer. "I hope you realize that any ridiculous feelings I had for you are completely over. I'm moving on." He turned away before he could see what sort of damage his words caused. If she looked unaffected, that would break him. Yet he also couldn't bear to see her hurt. They were all lies, anyway.