Chapter 11: The Intruder II

"I just don't get it."

Jimmy let out an exasparated breath in front of his conspiracy mood-board. Back in his robe and pyjamas, he fulfilled every stereotype that Joe had about online bloggers. In an effort to get some more pieces to the puzzle, Joe had agreed to stop by Jimmy's and share notes. Two more arsonists had disappeared over the weekend, last seen on their way into the Preserve.

"Okay?" Jimmy prompted for Joe to continue. They had been bouncing theories off each other for a while now. While Jimmy seemed to have some access to the workings of the police, or possibly just the transcript server for the dispatch central, he had not gotten the full scope of the Laura Hale-investigation that Joe had through the anonymous donation. She had not disclosed how she had come in posession of them. One mystery at a time.

"With the last two, it makes how many? Five in total, right?" Joe said and counted the names. Janitor, bus driver, video store clerk, and two laid off construction workers. "That's almost half your list of all known arsonists in the county. How many do you need to burn down a house?"

"A house full of people, remember? Awake, presumably, as it was in the afternoon." Jimmy squinted his eyes at the large photos of the Hale House, before and after the disaster. "If you discount the bus driver, he was the insurance guy, that leaves four plus Mister X. I mean, it's a big house, it's not implausible."

"It just seems random."

"I see what you mean. You're thinking this killer just picks off all the arsonists regardless of any possible involvement."

"You do realize that makes you a suspect just by having that list, right?"

Jimmy made a dismissive noise. "I have strong alibis."

"No, you don't," Joe argued. "We were right with Derek Hale at the time the janitor presumably died. You can't have another suspect witness on your behalf, they would just claim conspiracy. Oh God, that makes me a suspect too!"

"Sh, sh, sh," Jimmy tutted and Joe slumped back in her chair. He did not believe in coffee and all she was served was this herbal tea. He had more in common with Professor Kane that probably either of them wanted to admit. "Let's think logically. Apart from Derek and Laura, who would have motive?"

Joe groaned. They had tried to think logically for the last hours. She had assignments to grade back home, her own second draft that Professor Kane expected before midnight, and a heartbroken cousin who refused to come out of his room except from going to school.

"Mister X," Joe said eventually and straightened back up. "If he's worrying about the story blowing up, he might be picking off loose ends."

"That makes sense. If Mister X is the mastermind behind decimating the entire Hale-family, he would presumably have no qualms ridding himself of earlier allies."

"I'm sorry, Jimmy, I know you don't want to admit it, but everything's pointing towards Derek," Joe said and now Jimmy groaned. They had had this conversation already. "Laura could have been wrong! Derek might have had conducted his own research and come up with the same list of names. You said it yourself, there was no other survivors."

"Well..."

"What?"

"Well, there's...hmm." Jimmy fell back into silence, putting the marker in his hand up to pursed lips, like an old Victorian gentleman would do with his pair of spectacles. "This is not public information, by the way. I only know this because of Laura."

Joe sat up in the chair, tucking her legs under her. "Someone else made it out?"

"Severely injured," Jimmy said, but in a confirming tone. "Third-degree burns covering most of his body. He's practically in a vegetative state in a rehabilitation facility not far from Beacon Hills."

"Practically? Is he not rehabilitating?"

"No, when Laura went to see him, she said she did not get any response at all. The nurses claim they sometimes noticed his eyes move, but Laura thought it was wishful thinking." Jimmy sucked in a sharp breath. "Can you imagine the pain he's in? How much it would take for a person to escape the inferno and then make it to safety? It's a miracle he's alive."

Joe couldn't. "Did she have another brother?"

"Uncle. On her mother's side."

"Oh," Joe looked at the family photographs Jimmy had on his wall of the Hales. There were a few who could have matched that description. She wondered if Derek knew about this uncle as well, if he ever went to see him. When their grandma had a heart attack, she had been in a coma for more than a week. She'd woken up just hours before finally passing away. Watching her still form on the bed, breathing through a machine for several days had been torturous. Scott was almost too young to remember, but Joe did vividly. She had never seen her dad so distraught and helpless before.

"I need to get back," Joe said eventually and stretched out. "I got a bunch of work that's unfortunately not doing itself."

Jimmy scoffed, as he always did when something remotely related to Professor Kane came up. He noticed her putting on a pair of sneakers, meticulously doing up the shoe-laces. "You're walking?"

"Yeah, well, my car smells like death," Joe mumbled and switched feet. "It's just an hour walk, it's fine."

"Okay," said Jimmy with uncertainty. He went back to his kitchen, but apparently changed his mind with an impatient sigh. "I can give you a ride, if you want."

Joe glanced up at her unlikely partner in crime. She was still not sure where she had him — he gave off the impression of knowing a lot more than he let on. Worst of all, she could not determine his angle. Sure, he claimed to care about the truth, but if it was one thing her dad taught her, everybody had ulterior motives. She contemplated saying no anyway just to get some time to think. Not that she had done anything else lately and look what good it had done her.

"That'd be...great," she said slowly and he nodded and sauntered off to change into actual clothes. Of course, Jimmy's notion of what was deemed respectable or decent differed from the rest of the population. He came out of the bedroom wearing dark slacks and a tight red turtleneck. Very 90s vibe.

"I hear hydrogen peroxide is good for blood stains," he said conversationally and Joe pondered on the increased strangeness of her life lately. He drove incredibly slow towards the McCall-house. Apparently when Jimmy wasn't actively in pursuit of another car, he drove like an 80 year old woman on her way to church. Joe was at least pleasantly surprised that she had to give him directions to the house, maybe he hadn't been stalking her that much after all.

When they pulled up to the curb, Joe stared at the scene in puzzlement. Lights were on in the living room and the upstairs hallway, Joe's car sat parked in the driveway — Aunt Mel was probably at work already — and Scott's bike laid haphardazly next to the front door. Stiles' Jeep was also parked on the curb, a familiar sight if there ever was one.

"Something wrong?"

"I think...I think someone stole my car."

Jimmy leaned sideways to glance out her window at the obvious sight of her car sitting right there in the driveway.

"And returned it?"

"Yes!" Joe exclaimed and gestured to the Ford. "Look, I hate backing into a parking space. I'm horrible at it. So I always park nose in."

The Ford obviously sat the opposite way of how Joe normally parked it. Aunt Mel could have moved it, of course, but she would have called Joe about the obvious blood stains and rotting smell. Scott was even worse than Joe at reverse parking, and this was a perfect job.

"There's something on the windshield," Jimmy mumbled, squinting at the dark car. Joe noticed it too just as he said it. A paper flapping in the wind. "Could be a trap."

"So not helping," Joe muttered. The street looked deserted and there weren't many obvious hiding spots out in the driveway, apart from in the car itself. "Stay here, okay? Just in case."

"Just in case of what exactly?" Jimmy asked, but Joe had already unbuckled and got out. None of the neighbors were out, not unusual at this time of night, and moon shone bright and full above her. Kate's words came back to haunt her now. Had she known something Joe didn't?

Trying to keep track of all her surroundings at once, she crept closer to her car. It was her car, no doubt about it, right down to the familiar dent on the bumper that she never had bothered to fix. When nothing appeared to be jumping out of the shadows to attack her, she snatched the paper from her windshield. It was torn off a legal writing pad and showed a single word:

'SORRY'

It was not the same handwriting as the note that accompanied the police files. Immediately she started to check her car for damages, in case anyone had hit it so hard it did a 180 flip, but it was pristine. In fact, it looked like it had been cleaned... Joe carried the keys in her pocket out of habit and opened the driver seat door. A faint smell of pinecone and lemon wafted in her nose as opposed to the rotting carcass smell she had expected. Her eyes drifted close. There was another scent...

She jumped back from the car when the front door of the McCall-house burst open and Stiles came bounding out full speed. He slid to a halt in front of Joe, wild-eyed and hard of breath.

"Joe! Have you seen Scott?"

"Not since this morning-"

A loud rev of an engine cut her off and they both turned just in time to see Jimmy Carter speed away in his murky green sedan. Stiles stared at the disappearing tail-lights, back at her, then down the road agian.

"A 2008 Nissan Sentra, green," he squeaked and pointed in the direction Jimmy had taken off. Joe stared after the car as well. So much for having her back. Figures he would take off when faced with the Sheriff's son. Paranoia and all. "Who-"

"It's a long story," Joe said to deter Stiles from asking questions. Besides, he had seemed ready to dive into his own Jeep and take off after Scott, who was God's know where. She gestured to Scott's bike. "What do you mean have I seen Scott? Isn't he home?"

"Uhh..." Stiles rubbed harshly at the back of his scalp. "Long story. Gotta go!"

"What? Stiles? Stiles!"

He apparently did not hear her, or more accurately, ignored her calls and threw himself into his Jeep and took off in the opposite direction of Jimmy. That left her standing alone outside the house, with an apologetic note in her hand and a newly cleaned car beside her. Someone had stolen her car when she was out, gotten it professionally cleaned, and returned it. It obviously hadn't been Jimmy and who else could possibly know the interior was covered in blood anyway? That's right, alleged killer Derek Hale.

Not that she needed logic to work that one out. She could smell he had been in her car.

The full moon seemed to make all the shadows darker and Joe withdrew slowly into the house, scanning the hopefully empty streets for any movement. She made sure to lock the door firmly behind her and went through the house to lock the windows too. That had to be his preferred way of entry the other times he'd broken in. Should she call the police?

She scoffed at herself. And say what? Derek Hale, currently on the run from police, took the time to have her car cleaned. She'd be dismissed as a prank call before she could name her location. No, lock down and arm herself until someone else came back. She could take him. Probably.

In Scott's room, she stumbled over heavy chains spread across the floor. The window stood wide open and she hurried to slam it shut. She took a deep breath through her nose. If she could smell he'd been in her car, she should be able to smell if he was inside the room. Nothing. Satisfied with that, she knelt down to inspect the chains. They were really heavy, almost hard to lift, and still some of the links had been busted open. It had the look and feel of some boys-will-be-boys-stuff, so she left it intact and went to get her taser.

It had been a compromise when she left for college. Her dad insisted she kept it charged at all times. If school policy had allowed, he would have preferred for her to keep a gun on campus. When they'd fallen out and she moved back to Aunt Mel's, he hadn't brought it up again. He probably knew better than to try and pressure his sister into doing anything at all she did not want to. Besides, as a nurse she had a pretty firm and opposing stance on gun control.

Joe had a horrible aim anyway — it was hard enough to get a good shot in with the taser and then she would be standing less than 12 feet away. Unable and unwilling to relax, she sat perched in the kitchen — with the back door as a potential emergency exit — and waited.

An hour later she still waited and had beat her own personal high score on the Snake-game of her old Nokia. Scott should have been home a while ago, but neither he nor Stiles picked up their phone when she tried to reach them. Fifteen more minutes, she told herself when the clock ticked closer to midnight. Fifteen more minutes and she's reporting them missing.

Ten more minutes.

Five...

"Oh thank God," she breathed out when she heard a key being inserted into the front door. Taser in hand, she went to both hug and berate Scott as he came in. The door swung open as she came out from the living room. Her emerging smile turned into a grimace at the sight of Scott being supported by none other than Derek Hale outside the door.

She did not know where to fix her gaze, darting it between Scott and Derek and back again. Scott looked exhausted and hung limply onto Derek, who held the younger boy up by his arm. Alleged killer Derek Hale. With her baby cousin, half unconscious.

Derek's muscled neck flexed as he swallowed, as he could smell her adrenaline raising. "Joe-"

Her arms raised automatically and squeezed the trigger.

50,000 volts shot through the stun gun into Derek's chest — both he and Scott crashed to the floor in an instant. The power was enough to stun a 300 lbs man for at least 30 seconds and apparently enough to make Joe drop the gun when the power somehow backfired into her.

"Ahh!" she yelled and clutched at her chest where the current of electricity struck her muscles. It had been years since she last tested it, just her luck it turned faulty when she needed it. When her finger released the trigger, Derek stopped spasming immediately.

He was down, but with his groaning and cursing he was obviously not completely out of commission yet. She acted quickly and darted forwards to grab Scott's arm.

"Ugh," Scott groaned from his close contact with the hardwood floor and Joe dragged him fully into the house. Jesus, the guy weighed a frickin' ton! Inside, he managed to get on all fours, even grimacing in pain. Joe began to worry some of the voltages had passed through Derek to Scott as well, but did not have time as a low growl from the front door made them both raise their gaze.

Derek rose to one knee, head bent forward, emitting a steady, low growl.

"Oh no," Scott mumbled, now struggling to his feet. "That's bad."

Joe didn't take her eyes off Derek, but hissed: "What?"

Scott never answered. Instead they watched Derek dig his hand into the doorstep, somehow clawing his fingernails into the wood itself, sending splinters flying. The growl became louder and every muscle on his body flexed, as if he struggled to remain sitting down.

"He's losing control," Scott whispered hoarsely.

"What?!"

"Full moon!"

"WHAT?"

"RUN!"

Joe barely caught a glimpse of bright blue eyes as Derek roared. Scott grabbed Joe around her waist and practically threw her over his shoulder. They bounded up the stairs, with Derek sounding like an enraged animal close behind them. Something had flipped a switch in him and with the noises he made, Joe had no qualms believing he would tear a bus driver to pieces with his bare hands.

They dashed into Scott's room and slammed the door shut. Joe dove to Scott's dresser, searching for any kind of weapon he might have, settling on the trusty baseball bat and a pair of knuckledusters from their grandpa's days in the army. Joe tried to hand the bat to Scott so she could call 911, but Scott did not even acknowledge her. He stood wide legged in front of the closed door, breathing heavily, arms out to the side like he was ready to tackle anything and anyone coming through.

"Scott?"

"Shh!"

Her mouth shut as something thumped against the door. If he threw his whole weight at it, it would never hold. The repair bill for Aunt Mel would be huge too, not that it was important enough to think about right now, but Joe couldn't help it. She held the bat in one hand and tried to get hold of her cell-phone to call for help.

The growl on the other side subsided. Scott turned his head a bit, listening, and to Joe at least it sounded like Derek was moving down the hall. Another door opened. It made no sense, he had to know where they were! Unless...

"Cover the window," Scott said in a hush, apparently thinking the same as Joe. She did as told, foregoing her cell-phone to get a better grip on the blunt weapon. Scott's voice strained as he spoke: "He's in your room."

Joe nodded, filled to the brim with adrenaline and not paying enough attention to ask how he knew that. The growl, now even darker, seemed to penetrate Joe's spine, sending sparks up and down her rib cage and settling into a hot pool in her lower abdomen. They held their breath, waiting for the ball to drop, for him to burst through the door.

Nothing.

Gradually, slowly, the growl subsided to silence. Scott's brows furrowed and twisted, as if he was trying to make out a faint sound. When Joe thought she would pass out from lack of oxygen, Scott's shoulders relaxed and he stood up straight.

"He's gone."

Joe's grip on the bat did not loosen a fraction. "Are you sure? How do you know?"

"I just do, okay, Joe?!" Scott snapped at her, face twisted in a scowl. He shook his head and rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, I...I'm pretty sure he's gone."

In a silent agreement, they opened the door and stalked down the hallway, ready for an ambush. Nothing. They cleared the whole house and locked the front door again. In Joe's room, the window was opened wide, his obvious escape route. Casting a dark glance at the outside yard, she shut the window with a bang and pulled the curtains tight.

Scott stood forlornly in the middle of her room. He rubbed the back of his neck and now Joe realized his gaze was fixated on those damn three packs of condoms she never bothered to put away.

"Grow up," she muttered and pushed the bat into his chest to wake him up. "Where were you? What happened? You looked half-dead! Did he do that to you? Did he hurt you? Threaten you?"

Scott swatted away the bat she poked him with to emphasize each question. "No, no, and no. He...he helped me."

"Helped you? Alleged killer Derek Hale helped you? How?"

Scott slumped as he leaned against her door. "Derek's not the killer."

"What?" Joe dropped the bat to her side. "But you said-"

"It's a mistake," Scott muttered and rubbed his head again, like a massive headache threatened to split it open. "He didn't kill the janitor. He's trying to find out who did it."

Jimmy's massive board of conspiracies opened up behind her eyes, but she blinked it away. "You might wanna tell the police that. The entire state's looking for him!"

"I know, Joe, we just don't have any proof yet."

"Why did he just attack us?"

"Because you tried to electrocute him?"

"Because I thought he was a deranged killer! Because you told me he killed an innocent person at the school!"

"I know, Joe! I know! I...I thought I was doing the right thing and now I realize that everything I've been doing has been wrong and I probably ruined Derek's life and I can't be with Allison because she hates me and-"

He broke off, staring miserably at his shoes and fiddling with his fingers. Joe made another face, heart breaking at the sight.

"Allison doesn't hate you," Joe murmured and hugged Scott, who seemed to be fighting tears. "She might be angry with you or disappointed, but she doesn't hate you."

Scott's muffled voice came from somewhere in her hair: "How do you know?"

"Well, I talked to Kate, and according to her Allison's been playing sad love songs and moping in her room the last few days. That doesn't sound like hate."

His warmth disappeared as he pulled away to look at her. "You talked to Kate? Kate Argent?"

"Yeah, I met her while looking for you when you were playing hooky with Allison, why?"

Scott was not a good liar, but he tried anyway. "Oh. Uh, nothing. No reason."

Joe raised her eyebrow, but decided not to push it. It was a school night, after all, and she sent him off to bed after he assured her Derek would not be coming for them. Despite his promises, Joe doubted she would manage to sleep that night at all. She deadlocked the front door, which they never did, and knew she had to stay awake anyway to let Aunt Mel back in the house when she got off her shift.

The splintered wood in the doorstep caught her attention and she knelt to run her fingers over the deep groves. Derek must really be getting his calcium in, his nails had to be like iron to make marks like this. No blood or indication he had hurt himself. On a whim, she dug her own fingernail into the wood to check if it was rotten or soft, but she could hardly make a dent before her nail threatened to break.

Deep in thought, she picked up the taser and rewound it. When she tasered Derek, and effectively shocked herself, she had thought it had to be a loose wire sticking out or something to hit her skin. The plastic handle seemed intact though. Derek's words from the other night, how she supposedly felt him get hurt, came in the back of her head. Right, like she felt the shock she impacted upon him in her own body.

Get a grip, Delgado, she thought and put the taser back to charge. She could test it tomorrow — or get Stiles to do it, he was always a willing lab rat.

Back in her room, the computer gave off a cold glare when she turned it on. She had missed Professor Kane's deadline at midnight, but she was owed one extension after years of turning everything in on time. Besides, work sounded better than sleep right now. She glanced at her bed when she thought it, but paused at the sight. Joe, a messy sleeper, did not usually make her bed in the morning, but it had not looked that bad when she got up that day. The covers and sheets were thrown everywhere, like someone had rummaged in it.

Derek had been in her room. Had he been in her bed? A quick smell check confirmed it. Her covers were coated in that pungent cologne he wore. Why and what and how and why? She tases him, he goes into an animalistic rage, chases them upstairs, then goes into her room, rolls around in her bedsheets and leaves? No matter how logically she tried to put it, there was no clear cause and effect here!

Maybe nothing made sense because she was trying to apply rationality to an obviously deranged man. Nothing made sense because he obviously had some sort of mental disorder that she triggered with her stun gun. He seemed so normal when she talked to him, apart from the mysteriousness and lack of facial expressions of course.

Did she have a stalker on her hands? With the bed and the car and the many chance meetings, it seemed like she did.

Joe realized she was clutching the covers up to her face, still inhaling Derek's lingering scent. She dropped it like it burned her. Okay, maybe she wasn't completely normal either? Leaving her computer alone, she stripped the entire bed and dumped the sheets into the washing machine in the basement. Extra dose of detergent.

New week, new chapter. A large helping of Jimmy and a pinch of Derek to spice up your Monday evening. As always, reviews give me motivation to write more and post more often, if I'm being honest :)