As the Greyhound pulled into the Madera bus station, Maggie felt her stomach drop. She was wearing large sunglasses to mask her identity, but they were only a temporary solution.
The others had filled her in on everything that had gone on here a few weeks back, while she was nursing her boredom in the Waiting Room – getting on Al’s nerves, if she remembered correctly.
To her surprise, she seemed to remember the broad strokes of Sam’s actions, which came to her as Quinn described them. Treating Colin’s head wound, driving the Higgins patrol car, being handcuffed in Billy’s shed, and even some fragments of typing code for endless hours on a computer in Sheriff Maggie’s kitchen, though she had no idea what any of it meant.
It was a strange feeling, remembering those actions, because she knew it had not been her. It gave her the creeps. It made her wonder if there could be other people out there leaping, who had much looser morals than Uncle Sam. It had definitely been the right choice to destroy the facility and prevent the Kromaggs from knowing about such things, she decided.
The taxi ride from the bus station to the Sheriff’s headquarters was quiet, and Maggie realised that all three of her friends had some unhappy memories of this town, too; Colin in particular, who’d been clocked over the head by someone who looked just like her. The mood was decidedly apprehensive.
And finally, there they were: standing before the building, with Maggie shrinking into the taller men around her.
“What do I even say?” she asked nobody in particular.
“You could just burst on in and say ‘the Sheriff’s back in town, boys’ while giving finger guns,” suggested Colin, prompting Maggie to raise an eyebrow.
“Any useful suggestions?”
“Look, it’s like I said,” Quinn explained, “just go in and say you were held captive by unknown assailants.”
Maggie frowned. “I hate that. They’re going to be so suspicious.”
She shifted on her feet as her mind went over scenarios of the acting Sheriff putting her in an interrogation room.
Rembrandt stroked his chin. “What if you just tell ’em you had a breakdown? That is kinda what happened to the real Sheriff.”
Maggie pursed her lips. “Well, I’ve gotta say, I hate that option the least.”
“Whichever one you choose, someone’s eventually gonna notice us… uh, loitering,” Colin said, glancing around nervously.
“Yeah,” Maggie agreed, and steeled herself. “Let’s get this over with.”
She marched into the headquarters, as the others waited just outside the doors.
Inside, a man Maggie didn’t recognise sat behind a desk, reading a newspaper, feet hitched up on the desk. He looked around age 40, with jet black hair flecked with grey, and a thin moustache. He was dressed in a brown uniform, similar to the one Maggie recalled Sam wearing. He glanced up at her, and his eyes widened with surprise, as he brought his feet down.
“Sheriff Beckett?! Oh my Lord, I thought you were dead!” he cried.
Maggie smiled at him, uneasy. It seemed like this guy knew the other version of her. But who was he? What was his position? Was he the acting Sheriff? She didn’t see a star, but there was a shield badge on his chest. Deputy, then? As she recalled, Higgins had been the ‘partner’ of Sheriff Maggie. She didn’t have any memories of this guy via Sam at all.
“Rumours of my death were, um, greatly exaggerated,” she said, with a sheepish look.
The man hurried over to her, and drew her into an uncomfortable hug.
“What happened to you, Ma’am?”
‘Ma’am?’ Okay, so he isn’t overly familiar. Good.
Maggie pulled herself from the show of affection. “Well, I… I lost it. Just had to go spend time away from my life, so I went off-grid. Sorry I didn’t tell anybody.”
The deputy gave her an anxious look. “Ma’am, we’ve gotta let everyone know. There’s an ongoing investigation into your disappearance.”
Maggie cringed. The last thing she needed was all the attention.
“Listen–” she started, and peered down at his uniform, spotting a name tag. “–Phil, can I ask a huge favour?”
She put an arm around him, leaning in. “Before you go telling everyone I’m back, I really need a copy of my house’s phone records from the last few days before I left. It’s really important.”
She ran a hand over his chest, hoping the vibes she had been picking up were accurate. “Please, Phil? For me?”
He was stiff under her sensual movements, but she could feel his heart rate picking up. He cleared his throat.
“Uh, yeah, I’ll see what I can do, Ma’am.”
“Just call me Maggie, okay?” she said, hoping to ingratiate herself to him further.
Phil headed for the Sheriff’s office, with Maggie following.
“So you’re deputy now?” she said, trying to get a grasp on what might have happened these past few weeks.
“Yeah,” Phil confirmed. “Captain Brigham took over as Acting Sheriff in your absence, M-Maggie. He appointed me deputy.”
He looked back at her, as he opened the door of the office. “There’s a new Higgins car being ordered, but now that you’re back I guess we won’t need it, right?”
“Uh, about that…” she said, rubbing her nose. “Higgins is gone.”
He squinted at her. “What do you mean ‘gone?’”
Maggie bit her lip, allowing him to progress further into the office. As he started rifling through a filing cabinet, she shifted from foot to foot in the doorway.
“I, um, smashed it up. It’s scrap metal,” she lied. There was no delicate way to say it was swallowed up by a portal to a parallel world, so this was the best she could do.
He stared at her, jaw slack. “That thing was worth a hundred grand!”
She grimaced. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’ll accept whatever punishments are owed.”
Hoping I’ll be out of here before that time comes.
Phil pulled out a folder filled with papers. “We already collected the phone records in our missing persons investigation, let me just find ’em for you.”
He rifled through the loose pages. “What do you need these for, anyway?”
Maggie thought fast, trying to find a good reason. “Oh, I just got a creepy phone call, and I want to see if it was a number I recognise.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, cursing herself for coming up with such a flimsy explanation.
Phil pulled out a page, and eyed her. “I’ll make a copy,” he said, and Maggie could detect he was put off by this whole interaction.
Don’t worry, I don’t plan on sticking around. Just forget I was ever here.
Phil escorted her out of the office, and he headed for the photocopier, which was at the back of the main room of the headquarters, where his desk was.
“Where’s Brigham now?” she asked, looking at the front windows of the headquarters. She couldn’t see the others out there, but that was largely the point of where they had chosen to stand.
“Over at the city PD, as usual,” Phil said bitterly. “Just leaves me here to do the Sheriff stuff half the time.”
The photocopier hummed, and he pulled out the page, handing it to her.
“Thanks, Phil,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. She could see them starting to turn pink. “You’re a good guy.”
She turned to leave.
“Wait!” Phil said. “What do I tell the Captain?”
“Just say I swung by for a talk, and I’ll be awaiting his visit at home.”
She left the headquarters, hands clamped around the precious sheet of paper, and let out a breath as the door closed behind her.
Her friends were to her left, and she met Quinn’s gaze. “Got it. Let’s go find a payphone. Steer clear of Sheriff Maggie’s house, okay?”