What We Trade Our Hearing For (a North and South Story)

23. How to Live

"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.