all hers | tara carpenter x fem!reader

part 9

The days following Wes' death pass by in a blur.

Tara gets a frantic call from his mother the next day, asking if she's seen him. Chad calls next, followed by Mindy. His friends want to band together, go out to all his favorite places and look for him.

You want to stay home and curl up into a ball.

That's not an option.

"We can't act suspicious." Tara tells you, with all the experience of a seasoned killer, "We have to be worried for him, but not too much. You have to believe he can still come home."

The entire ordeal is exhausting.

You spend Saturday traipsing around the back of Chad's car, Tara's hand clutched tightly in your own. You try not to say too much, your heart beats loud out of your chest every time someone directs a question at you.

Tara is brilliant. Just the right amount of concern. She dials Wes' phone multiple times throughout the day, like he'll pick up, tell her not to worry. She insists Chad drive to Wes' old house a few towns over. Leads the group with feigned hopefulness.

It's a little unnerving just how good she is at it.

You do alright in front of Tara's friends. Quiet, clutching at her like if you let go you'd spiral. But that wasn't unusual behavior for you. Tara kisses your forehead on the drive back, tugs you into her side, reassuring hand rubbing circles on your back.

But it's later that night, when Wes' mom makes a surprise house call that your façade crumbles.

You're in the kitchen when you see her. Your heart shoots up into your throat, the plate you're holding almost clatters to the ground. She's in her squad car, Sheriff's hat firmly tilted onto her head.

"Tara." You murmur in a panic. She's by your side at once, linking her arms around your waist to hold you tight. You feel her tense as she catches sight of the woman at the door.

"Let me do the talking, baby." Tara says. She presses her lips to the side of your head.

And just as the doorbell rings, she slides over to open the door.

"Mrs Hicks." You hear her say, "Please, come in."

Together, they wander into the kitchen. You nod slightly, in greeting. Your palms are clammy, you wipe them against your pants and hope she doesn't notice.

"It's Sheriff Hicks, today Tara." Judy says. Her voice is a little shaky. Red-rimmed are her eyes. It breaks your heart.

"I'm here on official business."

"We haven't seen him." Tara says, her low, apologetic, "We've been out looking for him all day. The diner, the cinema. We even drove over to Millwood, thought he might have gone back there. Right, babe?"

Tara looks at you. Eyes soft, kind, encouraging. You nod, swiftly.

"No sign of him." Is your croaky response. "I'm really sorry, Sheriff."

Judy swallows. Her shoulders are tense, defeated. "Thank you, girls. But that isn't what I'm here about."

Tara tilts her head. Your heart skips a beat.

"Some of the other officers thought maybe he-" Judy swallows, "Maybe he might have run away. Perhaps he met a girl. But I know my son. He wouldn't just up and leave, not like that. Not without saying goodbye. He's a good boy."

Her voice quivers. You curl your fingernails into your palm so hard it might bleed.

"You're his friends. You know him... differently than I do." She says, "He tells you things he doesn't tell me. Was there a girl? A boy? Anyone?"