Chapter 12: Bullets and Positives

(One Week Later)

A night of restless lovemaking, thighs aching with the strain Mort had put on them in frustration, in fear, I woke up to a ten o' clock wakeup call from Jack. And in not so many words he assured me of how he would have short remorse in firing my ass if I didn't make my way back into the city by noon, the result of my having run off a week earlier without so much as a single word. I didn't want to drive back to Manhattan, or even step foot in that office, but knew that it was important to keep myself somewhat busy when Mort was with writing. I took a quick shower, got dressed and had a bowl of cereal before kissing his forehead and trying to make my way out the door of the cabin, until I was overcome with something. A strange, almost uneasy feeling in my gut that caught me off balance halting instantly, hand to my warm forehead, clammy palms. I was late though so it didn't matter half as much to me as my job, and took off back into the city for the afternoon.

The ride was long and lonely, something I hadn't really been able to experience as of late. I didn't like it one bit, but concentrated on the road with music, a few text messages to Casey concerning the nature of Jack's warning, as well as a call to a few clients, interviews, celebrities I'd long since forgotten. The returning normalcy was nice, but every time I found my focus again, I thought of his face. I thought about everything he'd told me the week before, the past, the present, and the pending future I had neglected to admit to yet. My inner voice was weighing down by the time I managed to turn onto the interstate, everything going a million miles an hour, traffic, tunes, a humming on the road, a tapping of fingers on the wheel, and the increasing waves in my gut, like a flash of lightening.

I rolled down the windows, hoping for fresh relief, and it helped immensely, finishing the stretch from the bridge to inner city again, a route that was becoming quicker and quicker the more I ended up taking it. After only an hour's worth of driving I pulled into the parking garage, stopping to use the valet services that on any regular day I would pass up graciously, and darted from the car with only my purse towards the elevator. My entire body was moving faster, as if it was in some sort of race against time, a fearless twisting inside of my stomach with every hop or turn, arms and legs growing numb, weak, as I rode the gated elevator up to the back entrance of the twelfth floor. Once the doors opened again and the rush of bodies presented itself, the flurry of news, music, entertainment all over the place, greetings, handshakes, high fives, all of it for my return from absence, I noticed myself began to feel even weaker, legs too loose to continue walking, head too drowsy to respond to anyone. So instead I darted off in the direction of my office not thinking twice, passing Eric without a word, bolting past Jack, and eventually bumping right into Casey. "Rox, good you made it….hey, you ok?"

"Uh--" was all I could get out before my hand cupped itself over my mouth instinctually, purse falling to the ground and I knocked Casey out of the way to reach the ladies bathroom in the far corner. She came in after me as I knew she would, concerned as everyone else must have been. The 'oh so attractive' gurgling and purging continued for minutes as she stood behind me, hands holding back my hair, "Sweetie…what the--" She tried, her own reflexes gagging at the smell of vomit wafting throughout the bathroom, but continued rubbing my own back as everything came out. I continued to loosen my lips at the drowning of my gut, the burning sensation at the center of my thighs removing what little energy I still had for the day, the memory of his fingers in certain places, his lips in others, the feel of his sex against me, the feel of his body pounding into mine the night before, the week before, all the last month.

All of it haunting me now, all of it coming back.

"Hey Mort?"

"Yeah…" I replied breathlessly, leaning my head in to hers.

"Did you mean what you said before about…"

"Bout' what?"

"About me quitting my job, and staying here with you?" I paused immediately at her question, having never guessed this would come at this moment, or at all. It hit me between the eyes, my head already drowning in thoughts and feelings and desires, but now…it was rushing, boiling over with shock. Oh god, I gulped back the surge below momentarily, she's not really thinking…

"O-of course I did."

"And do you still mean it?"

"Roxanne…" I spoke softly, trying to completely ignore what was being shoved aside now, it wasn't quite as important. "I mean it, I was serious." She nodded, battling her response back and forth in her eyes; it was in the way her fingers tapped at the nape of my neck, until she finally concluded. "Well then I—"

Cut off, we both were by a swift banging on the glass window panes of the front door. Our heads jolted in the same second, brows twitching curiously, and the fist on the door continuing with effort. "What the hell…?" Roxanne got up from my lap and I stood trying to button my jeans again, both of us moving towards the door, her hand snug around my upper arm as she walked behind me. The knocking ended abruptly as soon as I stepped in front of the door and tried to look out through the curtain. Go figure… There was no one there, but I pushed Roxanne back slightly anyway before I opened it. And when I did, I wished I hadn't. "Oh fuck!" I slammed it shut again and fell back from the doorway, hand covering my mouth, struggling to keep my gag reflexes in check. "Mort, what is it? What?"

"It's…shit, I don't know. Just—don't…" My hands were digging into my hair as she tried to tug my arms down, cooed and begged me to tell her, but I couldn't, and that was a big mistake with someone as curious as her. She walked back to the door and opened it, unafraid one second, and motionless the next. I tried to pull her back, but she refused to move, she couldn't, she was fixed on it. "Come on, get away from it. Rox!"

"No. It, it means something. Someone knows Mort."

"Don't you think I can see that, please come on, shut the damn door." I tried to, but again she held against it, stepping further out onto the brightly lit porch, the echoes of night all around. I had to follow behind her, holding tightly to her waist and trying to step clear of the mess. It was something I couldn't have dreamed up in my head, something no nightmare could have warned about. Blood, smeared along the planks of the porch, in a sequence of letters. Benjamin Miller. She's right…someone knows. Isn't that just…

"This isn't good. You have to do something."

"Like what? I'm wanted for murder, Roxanne. Come on, don't get so close." Barefooted she tiptoed beside it, gore and seething aroma, right on my doorstep. I looked back up and she had made it to the screen door, heading out, "What the hell, where are you going?!"

"Come here…look. There's a person." I leaped over the sick mess to where she was standing, eyes wincing out into the darkened distance, having my glasses on I could luckily see better than her, and what I did see, I didn't like. A shadowy figure, a familiar figure was slowly pacing through the brush down the pathway from the cabin, a black cap, a red jacket. "That son of a bitch…" I kicked open the door and ran out onto the gravel in my socks, not making it very far without pain following, but desperate to catch up to the guy this time. That fucker…I knew he was screwing with me! "Hey you…get the fuck back here!" He kept walking, running almost further and further away from me, and my holed socks not getting me to him fast enough.

"Mort stop, come back!" The echo of her voice, the thickening breeze, the fact that I wasn't going to catch the guy. All of it drove me mad.

Was it a dream? A nightmare…Christ. I don't even know, I thought wearily, sitting up from the fumbled mess I'd gotten myself into on the couch, the place that had once held two bodies, but now only one. She was gone again, and by the stillness in the house I could tell she had gone away somewhere, whether home or to the city, I didn't know yet. I got up and made my way into the bathroom downstairs, trying to relieve what thrill was left over from the night before, a senselessly drained night of passion at that, or so I had hoped anyway. I couldn't remember, I hope I didn't hurt her. I noticed lately my temper loosen out and lash towards her during sex for some reason, as if the intimacy between us were not meant to be so, as if it were meant to disappear. But I ignored this and finished in the bathroom, only three or four steps out when I heard another knock at the door. This time slightly gentler, yet still just as brandish as the night before, that horrid pounding that had preceded an omen. Or was it a dream? Damn, I can't even begin to think. I guessed as soon as I opened the door to the front porch I would have my answer, so this is what I did, paying no attention to who it was through the window, only throwing back the door angrily.

"Mr. Rainey." Fuck. I should have known better. Newsome come to check on me again it seemed, his aviators tipped down to the bridge of his nose, an accusing smirk plastered along his face. Something wildly varying from any other morning wake up call. "What is it now?" I replied sarcastically, glancing down below him shined shoes to see that porch was clean of any blood, any name, any omen. Thank God.

"Can't play dumb with us this time, Mort. We've got everything we need."

"For what? Your tea party?" He sighed with annoyed exhaustion in my direction, shuffling his feet and reaching for something in his back pocket, a warrant I assumed.

"For this." Speaking callously his palm draped a glittering pair of handcuffs in the early morning light, as my mouth grew tense without response or defense. Shit.

Shit. It's all I could think. Another hour had passed in my life, another sixty minutes of uncertain ground, only this time it resulted in an answer. There was no more after taste of vomit on my breath, all I could taste now was the lingering fizz of coke and my own blood being drawn at the junction of teeth to bottom lip. My hands were writhing together between the my thighs, hair tossed up into a makeshift ponytail from before, and eyes swollen with fear. Casey and Eric sat across from me at the desk, waiting for me to look up at them again I'm sure, half expecting me to probably cry my eyes out any minute. But I didn't. Instead I furrowed by brow and reached out for the small object, the one holding the truth.

"Rox, it's…it's a good thing you know?"

"Yeah, sweetie." Eric leaned in, "It will be."

I tried to drown out there confidence in the matter, and traced the lines of the pink X from the distance in my palm. It was small, almost like an understatement in my life, Oh. By the way…but it wasn't, it was everything in that moment. Somehow I could still feel his breath on my neck, steady and warm, just as it had always been. Now though, there was pressure added into it, the pressure to do the right thing, to accept what was in front of me. I had attempted to think about all of the possibilities while Casey had run off to by the test at the corner drugstore, I'd focused in and out for thirty minutes on what could happen and why, when and how. And now that the test had been drawn, the results calculated, it didn't seem to matter, because there was only one answer to anything I asked myself. Mort.

"You gonna tell him?" I heard Casey, but with only a mock response of a nod while I shuffled to drop the test in the pile of papers already growing on my desk. I had so much work to get done, so many interviews to give, so many contracts and articles to sign off on. Everyone at the office had been doing their work, while I'd been off having unprotected and 'out of this world sex', restoring a house, being accused of murder, and now, getting pregnant with the child of a man who I couldn't get my mind around. Glancing down to the calendar in front of me I calculated backwards, not for the life growing inside of me, but to remind myself of just how many days I had known Mort. It's September 23rd…and I came to Tashmore on…July 30th. Met Mort two days later, August 1st….seven weeks. I've only known him seven weeks…holy shit.

"Roxanne!" Casey yelled and withdrew my attention in math to focus on both of them.

"What?"

"It's going to be fine, you said he loved you. He wants to take care of you, right? Ok?"

"Yeah. Ok."

I blinked a few times, looked out onto the driveway where they were scattered, cars, badges, guns, the whole nine yards. Then glanced back to Dave, the sick bastard and his smile, "What the fuck are you going to try to accuse me of now?"

"Cut the act, Mr. Rainey." He said, grabbing my wrist cruelly and turning me around with a shove against the doorway panel. I felt the steel cufflinks wind quickly around both wrists, wincing at the pinch he applied and the words he whispered with a grunt of power, "You're under arrest…finally."

"Is that right…" I tried, letting him pull me back and down through the porch, onto the gravel in my socks, and then forcing me against the hood of his patrol car, finally huh…I thought with a crude grin towards the other officers. "How you doin' today boys? Got a good reason for this I suppose…"

"Mr. Rainey," A young officer said approaching me from the side, while Dave held tight and searched me for whatever the fuck he thought I would have on my person at ten in the morning. "You're under arrest for the murder of Lucas Hayes, as well as the convicted murder of the following: Amy Rainey, Theodore Milner, Kenneth Karsh, and Thomas Greenleaf. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an--"

"I know my fucking rights!" I cut him off and shoved my leg back to get Dave away from my balls, "Careful David…those don't belong to you." He grunted in dissatisfaction with me, and I just shot out what I truly knew, "You don't have any proof of this shit."

"We've got more than proof Mort," Dave growled, pulling back on my arms again where wrists met steel, and glared at me through his tinted sunglasses, "We've got a witness this time…"

"What? A blind person?"

"We're taking you to town…"

And so he did, while his young assistant held the door, Dave threw me inside, slamming the door and driving off with his force of trusted patriots in tow. The only thing I could think about was Roxanne, where she was, if she knew, if she'd ever come back now.

"I'm not this guy they make me out to be, he's just the surface. The real me Roxanne…it's in here."

God I hope she believed me.

Another forty minutes passed before Jack came to find me for our little talk. I had known it was coming, but decided not to worry about it so much, or at least I had thought not to. He came to my office with a proud glare, shooing Casey and Eric out as I tried to scramble to make myself slightly more presentable, jeans and t-shirt, pregnancy test pushed into my purse, and a tear wiped from my eye.

"Jack, hey."

"Roxanne…" He began, sliding to where my couch was and offering me over to him. "Sit down." I did, not so closely to him, but enough to be polite, dreading his words. Jack Morrison wasn't a mean man, especially with me, he'd treated me like the daughter he never had on most occasions, gave me what I wanted, space, room to grow artistically with my writing, everything a girl could need in this industry. But today was going to be something different, I could feel it. I owed him more than I had even begun to work on, I was backed up for weeks with celebrities on his hot list, and I was teetering on the edge of having a blank page in the next issue. Either he was going to fire me or threaten it coldly.

"How's the article coming?"

It's uh…" I droned, trying to remember my topic, polar bears, damn. "It's coming along slowly."

"You haven't started it."

"Well…"

"I know you Roxanne. You haven't started it, and there's something keeping you from it. This guy."

"No, not really. I mean, yes, I'm seeing a guy…"

"A writer so I'm told. A pretty popular one to this city."

"Yes." I replied meekly, my fingers twisted uncomfortably together.

"He wrote that one book….god what was it? It was good, about the cheating wife…"

"Secret Window."

"Ah, that's it! Good book." At this I smiled, feeling more relaxed with the pace of the conversation, but still guilty for everything I had to get done for Jack. I needed to reason with him, before he did so with me.

"Jack listen, I know there's a pile of stuff on that desk over there…but, it's just…"

Beep. The intercom.

"Roxy?" It was Lily, nervous sounding with a purpose I was sure. I didn't want to leave Jack hanging again, but he nodded for me to respond and I walked over to the phone, holding for the speaker. I didn't even think about Jack hearing it. "Yeah, what is it Lily?"

"That police officer is on the phone for you again, he says it's urgent. Do you want me to put him through?"

And from the couch at the opposite side of the room, I saw my boss nod, the father figure I never properly had in my life, give me the go ahead to answer, if only because he was just as curious at me. I lifted the phone to my ear for some sense of privacy, and dialed in for Dave, my knees aching with unasserted thoughts, and my mind only on Mort in that moment. God, let him be ok.

"Hello? Dave?"

"Roxanne, hi there."

"Um, hi. Is there something wrong, Sheriff?"

"Ah well…you could say that darlin'." I heard the squeak of his office chair in the background, and the sinister twinkle of his cough. That's when I knew something wasn't up. "We arrested Mort Rainey about an hour ago."

"You what?!" I shouted and Jack stood and walked over to me, obviously concerned. Son of a bitch…I thought, how can he just…

"We've got all the evidence we need now against him, hon. He's been convicted."

"How can you...no, there's no evidence against anything Dave! Mort didn't kill anyone." It was a bold lie, but I didn't care. So was my life.

"You might not think so, but it's the truth. We found the gun he used to kill Lucas Hayes with, as well a direct witness to the murder." Shit. It can't be, Mort was with me…how would he? "Mort's here right now, being held until we can bring him into the city's jurisdiction for questioning. And I suggest Roxanne, that for you own good, you cease all connection to him. You didn't heed mine or your mother's warning before, but now you can see, he's not a safe man."

"You're wrong Sheriff." I said grimly, holding the receiver tight, and choking back the tears with a glance to Jack. "I love him. And I'm coming to get him out." The phone slammed down roughly to the desk and I could hardly stand up straight. Jack looked worried more than annoyed, and held his hand in his pockets as he spoke.

"Leaving again?"

"Jack I--"

"Look, I don't know what's going on with you lately, part of me is too scared to even ask. You're not Roxy anymore, you're a little more troubled than she used to be, and in a way that's alright. Who am I to keep you here against your will?"

"I need to go to him."

"I know you do, and I'm letting you. But…"

"But?"

"I want an article about those damn polar bears on my desk by Monday."

"I promise." Smiling, I leaned in to hug him, something I just simply needed for the moment. And then grabbing my purse and running to put my heels back on, I shouted to Lily for a hold on all calls and guests, darted out of the twelfth floor again, and began my journey back to the lake. Back to the place that was quickly becoming a personal hell. Back to help him.

"I want my god damn phone call." Dave twisted in his seat to where I was slumped, arms dangling out of the corner cage they'd managed to get me in. His younger protégé was seated closer to me and after rolling my eyes at Newsome, I chuckled back, "Hey kid, live a little. Hand me that phone."

"I'm sorry Mr. Rainey, no phone calls while you're being detained."

"I thought this was jail. Everyone gets a call."

"Everyone but you," Dave huffed, standing up and walking towards me, hand straddling the gun in his holster. Bring it on fucker… "I've got ya, Mort. Just like I said I would, gotcha good too."

"I'm glad to see you're so confident, Sheriff. I'm guessing you won't give me a phone call cause' you're afraid of who I might dial."

"Roxanne I assume."

"It tears you up doesn't Dave? Seeing little Roxanne Hayden sleeping with your enemy…"

"She's been warned."

"And yet she still gives herself to me…every day…every night…" I teased through the bars, my hands gripping with force, waiting for him to stomp off, which he eventually did. And to which I responded accordingly.

"Fine. If you fuckers aren't going to give me a phone call…I want a smoke."

"No smoking in the cell." The kid laughed.

"Then let me out."

I drove, god I drove, like a crazy person. Pushed my Mercedes to the limit out of that city, crossing bridges, construction, traffic and right through into the woods until I got to the sign, Welcome to Tashmore Lake. Thanks, I'm back gladly. The radio purred with forced lyrics, things that inspired me to be nothing short of a pain in Dave's ass when I got to the station, which I did only minutes later. Rolled over the curb, parked the car jagged, ran up the steps and kicked open the creaky front door. The floor tiles smacked with my desperate heels, and I passed everyone willing to help, everyone who was keeping me from him whether they knew it or not.

Eventually I found the office I needed, and yet another person who only wanted me to wait. "I demand to speak with Sheriff Newsome!"

"Ma'am, please…"

"Oh come on Stevie, you've known my name for twenty five years, you even know how I like my eggs, now get me Dave…"

"Rox--"

"Now!" He ran off behind closed doors, saying a few words to someone, and coming back with the man I couldn't help but to sneer at .

"So you were serious, Roxanne. You came anyway."

"Yeah, I did. Now take me to see him."

"Mort's being detained, he's not allowed to have--" I didn't wait for him to finish, only pushed my way past them and bolted through the doors they had come out of, running through the room to where a cell was holed into the corner.

"Mort!" His head swung around to look out of the bars from where he was sitting, and he jumped to his feet as I came to him. "Rox, what the hell…what are you doing here?" I tangled my fingers in his between the metal, reaching his lips before he could keep questioning me. Dave and Steve wandered in shouting, and all I could think about was the taste of his mouth, all I needed.

"Roxanne, let's go!"

I didn't answer them, I answered Mort and his tongue, pulling his face as close to mine as I could through the bars. And when he moaned with satisfaction I fell back, my hand still attached to his.

"Come on, you can't be here." Dave tried again, to which I squeezed Mort's hand tightly and replied, "Let him out."

"He's a murderer, and he's in here for good."

"Let him go."

"See Dave, my girl's got the right idea." Mort laughed off his input as Newsome grew more annoyed with both of us.

"Roxanne, how many times do I have to say it?" I rolled my eyes and made my way over to the now noticeable officer beside me, a younger kid I didn't recognize. With a stroke of his cheek and a grasp to his belt I snatched his keys away, Mort chuckling lowly but stopping once Dave stepped in to take them back from me. "I don't think so, sweetheart."

"What the hell, this is ridiculous!"

"He's murdered five people, and now he's in jail for it. It's the law, and you're breaking it by being in here. I can set up a cell for you too, darlin'?" When I ignored him slightly in thought he began to walk away towards his desk, trying to ease me in that direction as well. I didn't move, only looked over to Mort, sad and immobile in his cage, and then to my feet trying to come up with something, anything that would work. Tears were already welling in my eyes when I began to accept that there was nothing, until I found my hand subconsciously rubbing the slight of my stomach, and my eyes widened towards Dave.

"Let him out, Sheriff…please." He growled this time, annoyed at my continuous plead, but rolled his eyes in my direction, "Give me one good reason why I would ever let a murderer walk free in the streets." I hesitated, stepping away from Mort's cell with a careful look at him, and then back to Dave, a breath, a pause.

"Because I'm pregnant with his child."