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Marty didn’t know what possessed him to show up at the Sheriff’s house at 2 AM. Maybe it was the fact that nothing made sense since he picked up Jacob from the airport and brought him home to Arcadia. Maybe it was the fact that he made a vow to himself that he wouldn’t let Jacob down, too. Maybe it was the fact that Caleb was there one moment and vanished the minute he turned his back. Maybe it was the fact that he’d watched Rachel die only to find her wandering the road again a few hours later. Maybe he was going crazy with the locals, living and dead alike. Maybe it was a combination of everything and he couldn’t bare to just go back to his hotel room and stew on it all. Maybe he wanted to see the man who he’d grudgingly come to respect.
He rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “I don’t know what to do,” he muttered. “Please, someone tell me what to do.”
The front door suddenly opened and Fred stumbled out. He still wore his sheriff uniform pants and his uniform shirt hung open. His undershirt was untucked. He was barefoot and his gray hair stuck up at odd angles. He carried a half empty bottle of beer.
He collapsed into one of the chairs on the porch. His low voice carried over the night air. His words slurred slightly. “What can I do for you, Agent?”
Marty wearily got out of his car and leaned against it. “You didn’t answer your phone. Rachel’s back.”
Fred put his head back. He waved an arm. “Again. Whoop-di-friggin-do.” He chuckled darkly. “No one can stay dead these days.”
Marty slowly climbed the steps. He slouched against a porch post. “I called Tom and took her back to her hotel room.”
Fred raised his head and regarded Marty with bleary eyes. He pointed to the seat next to him. “Sit down before you fall down.”
“Thanks,” Marty sighed and did just that.
“My office has been swamped with reports of new people who have returned. First, we had just one. No big deal, I guess. Then two. Then three. Then one of them vanished into thin air and we were back to two.” Fred shook his head and took another drink. “Now, they’re coming out of the woodwork. It’s…it’s…” he grunted in frustration. “…it’s crazy. No wonder some folks think they’re demons.”
“But you don’t,” Marty said quietly. “You confronted a grief stricken man with a gun to try and save Rachel.”
Fred pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s my job and I’m damn good at it. I’m not the country bumpkin you thought I was.”
Marty reached out to touch Fred’s arm before he could think better of it. “I know better now.” He smirked. “But you’re still an arrogant asshole.”
“I can be,” Fred agreed easily. He looked at Marty’s hand. His brow furrowed but he didn’t shake it off. “But why are they here? How are they here and why now? How is there a Jacob in the family crypt and a Jacob at home with his parents after all these years?”
“I wish I knew.”
“I want to believe that child is really Jacob. You didn’t see Henry and Lu after the accident.” Fred shook his head at himself and chugged the rest of the bottle. “For a long time, I thought I was going to lose my brother, too. But I just can’t wrap my head around this.”
Marty squeezed Fred’s forearm. “Do you still think Jacob is a freak of nature?”
Fred blew out a long breath. “I don’t know what I think. All I know is last week the world was normal and now it’s not.”
Marty nodded towards the empty bottle dangling from Fred’s fingers. “How many of those have you had?”
Fred dropped the bottle and watched it roll across the floor. “Not near enough. I can still feel and I don’t like feeling anymore.” His voice was quiet, almost defeated. “I was stupid. I thought maybe Barbara returned, but she’d never come to me. She didn’t want me at the end. She wanted him. I don’t know why I ever thought that could change. I dared to hope. So, yeah, I hate feeling.”
Marty’s gut twisted in sympathy. He frowned and stood. “Let me help you inside.”
“She was the only one I ever let in, you know? She was everything to me,” Fred rambled. He let Marty pull him up, but his legs gave out. Marty slid an arm around his waist to keep him upright.
Marty helped Fred inside. “Maybe she hasn’t returned.”
Fred snorted. “She has. It’s just another way for the universe to piss on Fred Langston’s head.”
“Your gloom is magnificent,” Marty drawled as he steered Fred away from the kitchen and more beer. He took Fred to the bedroom. He pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed.
Fred swallowed heavily. “Why can’t I forget? Just for a little while?”
“It’ll be okay. We’ll figure all of this out,” Marty replied soothingly as he helped Fred out of his shirt. He reached for Fred’s belt buckle.
Fred slapped Marty’s hand away. “Don’t touch me there unless you mean it.”
Marty’s eyes got wide. “I…um…”
Fred let out a cross between a laugh and a sob. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since someone touched me when I wasn’t paying for it?”
Marty was still gaping like a fish out of water. His mouth moved but no words came out.
Fred’s shoulders slumped as he seemed to crumple in on himself. “Just go away, Agent.”
Marty licked his lips nervously and he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “I suppose I could give you a hand.”
Fred just blinked stupidly.
Marty rubbed the back of his neck. He stared at Fred’s chest and the hair peeking out from the edges of the undershirt. “If you want.”
Fred managed a small smile. He thumped Marty on the shoulder so Marty would look at him. “Look, I’m drunk and we’re both exhausted. Why don’t you stay here tonight?”
“Your couch looked a little small.”
Fred waved that off. “You can have half the bed.”
Marty froze. “I can’t believe I’m considering this. I can’t believe that you offered.”
Fred rolled his eyes. “I’m too tired to bite.” He turned to pull the covers back. “Do what you want.”
Marty watched Fred squirm out of his pants and slide under the covers. He bit his lip for a moment before pulling off his sweater. He toed off his shoes and climbed onto the free half of the bed. He settled in, above the covers.
Fred switched off the lamp and curled onto his side. “Night, Agent.”
“Night, Sheriff.”
Fred yawned. “And maybe I’ll take you up on that hand job later.”
Somehow, Marty found it within himself to chuckle. “And maybe I’ll oblige you.”