Author's Note: I know that I promised to try and update every Thursday, but it's been really hard with high school starting and I'm taking all honor course this year. I only have one more chapter to put up that I've edited it… so the other couple of chapters that are already typed and are awaiting editing haven't been format changed… And I think I'll be in a hiatus on this because of that plus school. But I really appreciate all the input on this! I LOVE MY READERS!!!! 3 (I'll try my hardest to update!!!)

Disclaimer: Again, "Secret Window" was NOT my idea and I'm merely borrowing the too-to-handle Johnny Depp's character, BUT Stella Burnside is my too-hot-to-handle gal. .

Chapter Four

The Journal

Stella woke up, sweat trickling down her face. Her heart was racing, and her body felt like it didn't have the strength to sit up. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to move and go into the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face and brushed her teeth, avoiding the mirror.

It was just a dream… It was just a dream… Stella constantly told herself as she finished brushing her teeth and changed into a pair of jeans and a yellow tank top.

It was ten o'clock and she could see Mort working in his garden. Resisting the urge to go see him, she sat down and concentrated on her story. The cursor blinked on the blank page and kept Stella in a daze. Her eyes didn't wander, though they wanted to. The remnants of her dreams were still haunting her and directing her attention to everything, but what she needed to get done.

This ISN'T going to work, Stella thought and stormed out of the sunroom.

She stood in her living room, contemplating whether she wanted to go out the door or just sit in her living room to read a magazine. The choice was tough. She knew Mort was just outside, working in his garden. She could imagine the sun against his skin like yesterday at the lake and his charming smile that made her heart melt. Then again, she knew that sitting and reading a magazine would help her get her mind off of everything temporarily until she could work again.

God… Stella thought, trying hard not to make her brain explode.

"Just do what you want…" she said in defeat and found herself walking out the door casually to Mort's garden.

"Hey there," she greeted.

Mort looked up from the dirt he was digging, and smiled. "Hey."

"Nice garden, really quaint," Stella commented. She looked from the cute little groups of yellow flowers to the empty corn seed packages by Mort's feet. She wondered for a split second about the contrast in plants, but pushed the thought aside.

"Yeah, it is nice," Mort answered with a smile of satisfaction. His expression changed to one of sudden realization. "Well, you know about that dinner tonight?"

"Yeah?" Stella asked.

"I have to cancel… I have a deadline to meet and I'm going to need the rest of day and tonight to finish editing," Mort explained.

Stella felt her heart drop slightly, but didn't make it obvious. "Oh, I see. Well, that's fine. I understand completely that your work comes first, that should definitely be the case."

"I'm so glad you do," Mort said in relief. "For a second I'd thought you'd get angry at me."

Stella smiled as if it was something silly a child would say. "Why would I be mad?"

Mort just laughed. "Yeah, that's a good question."

"I'll just be on my way home then, so I won't bother you any further. Good luck with your work." Stella waved quickly and left before Mort could answer her. She sat down in the sunroom, and with a clear mind, she began to type again. The remaining pieces of her dream were slowly fading away as she got further and further into her story.

Intrigue

After successfully working for hours straight, Stella sighed and paced around the house several times to try and forget the weird things that had been happening. Her ideas had run out and now her mind was drifting back to the events of past days. She ran her hand through her hair several times and stopped in the sunroom. She looked across to Mort's house and saw the lights on.

What is it about you, Mort? Stella asked herself. She shook her head, almost in shame, and sat down at the desk. The cursor blinked in front of her, as always. She looked over at her small bookshelf and took a long look. After a careful and long examination, she found one book with no title on the spine. Taking it out, realization hit her. She gently traced the gold letters on the cover of the dark red journal and it spelled out: Amy Rainey. There was a pang of sadness when she traced those letters and forced herself to open the journal, as if it were her only escape from the sadness.

After Amy was officially announced dead, her belongings were dispersed and the journal ended up with her. Everything else seemed to just avoid her, but the journal. Stella had it for months, but she ignored it most of the time and never thought of it until now.

She opened up the journal, and recognized Amy's neat handwriting that she used to see from the various holiday cards and postcards she sent to Stella. Brushing her hand over the page, Stella felt another pang. Trying to ignore this one, she went onto read the first entry:

Yes, Mort has bought me this handsome journal for my birthday along with a stunning 14 karat gold necklace with an equally stunning heart pendant of diamond… Sure, I appreciate it all. I appreciate the fact that he cares to waste his money on these materialistic items for me, rather than spare a minute to actually be MORT. No, I'm lying. I don't actually.

I just… wished that Mort would be Mort again; the man I fell in love with and married. That moment when we exchanged vows, I felt I was going to grow old with this man and have his children. Those little things… well they just disappeared after the baby died and Mort changed. He got so… serious about his writing. I just can't see the real Mort anymore.

I'm staring at someone who I barely know now. Someone… I don't want to know. Someone I don't want to be married to anymore… God, I wish he could see this… If only he could see what he's doing to me… to us… hell, to everything.

Stella felt her heart sink. That was why Amy divorced Mort, but Stella was having trouble believing Amy's words. Mort was such a nice man… so honest, so real. Sometimes, his perfection almost scared her, but nonetheless, he had that hint of perfection.

"Oh Amy…" Stella whispered, turning the page to a new entry:

Today… I met the most amazing man in my life. I couldn't believe I found myself completely attached to him. It was as if I had forgotten Mort completely… and I didn't feel a bit guilty. His name is Ted. I met him at work and it was such a relief to know that I found someone else. I had this feeling that I'd eventually leave Mort and our relationship would end.

I'm going to meet Ted tomorrow for lunch, and hope to break the news slowly to Mort. I think he doesn't realize that we've been "over" for some time. He's so caught up in his work and I can never get through to him. We don't communicate as much anymore and it feels as if I've lost him somewhere…

Ted? Stella thought. She never heard of Ted from Amy… ever. Amy never mentioned him in letters, phone calls, or holiday cards. It never occurred to her that Amy and Mort would divorce because Amy found someone new. She knew that Amy eventually found a new boyfriend, but she never knew it was during her marriage with Mort. How could she give up Mort like that?

This is horrible. I never expected this to happen… it was like a movie, probably EXACTLY like a movie. Mort caught me and Ted in bed together… I don't know how he ever found out. I guess it was those TashmoreLake bastards. They like Mort too much for their own good.

Now, it's come down to divorce. I have no other choice. I don't want to be with Mort anymore, I can't stand being in this marriage for another second. It kills me really. With Ted, it's different. He's so honest, kind, and sweet. I can sense all of it from him in complete sincerity. I just can't feel that with Mort… at least not anymore.

Would things have been different if the baby didn't die…?

Stella could barely describe how she was feeling. Everything was coming together in pieces before her. She didn't want to see the final outcome of the puzzle, but she couldn't help herself with her growing curiosity. This was the life Amy was hiding from her for years. Years of torment and unhappiness that Stella would never have imagined from the life that Amy lead.

The phone rang just at that moment and Stella jumped a little. She composed herself and went to pick up the white cordless phone hanging on the wall by the kitchen doorway.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hey Stella, it's Mort," the weary voice on the other line greeted.

"Hey Mort, you sound tired? Is everything alright?" Stella went to sit in the sunroom, her finger marking the spot where she left off in Amy's journal.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I've just been working so much and I guess the past sleepless nights are catching up to me now."

Stella laughed a little. "I see. So why did you call so suddenly?"

"I just wanted to apologize for canceling so suddenly on our dinner. I really didn't mean it. I feel bad about it."

"No, it's alright, Mort." Stella sounded assuring and cool about it. "You shouldn't feel bad at all. I understood completely, remember?"

Mort laughed at himself from the other line. "Yeah, I do. But to make it up maybe we can go for dinner again? I know this really nice beach New London we can go to."

"That'd be nice. When do you want to go?"

"How about… the day after tomorrow? I still have some work to finish and it might take me another day."

"That's fine." Stella shifted in her seat a little. "What time?"

"I'll come pick you up."

"Okay, then. I guess you should get back to work?"

"Yeah…" Mort sounded a bit reluctant to hang up. "I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, I'll see you soon." Stella hung up and returned her attention to the last journal entry that was dated the day of Amy's alleged murder.

I just can't take this anymore. I want this divorce to be official.

Mort moved out to our cabin, well his cabin now, at TashmoreLake and just doesn't seem to want to talk. I want this divorce shit to be over with now… I won't take anymore of Mort's procrastination on this. He can't be bitter about the past for this long… it's not… it's not human!

I can understand that he's angry with me, but I'm trying to make this as painless and simple as possible so we can forget and maybe forgive. Forgiveness probably isn't an option, but I can at least try.

That's it, I'm going over there. I'm forcing a pen into Mort's hand and making him sign these papers. I don't care what he says or whatever excuses he uses, this is the end and I'm drawing the line now.

Stella stared at the last journal entry and sighed. She tossed the journal on her desk and looked out the window at the lake. It seemed much eerier at night and gave Stella the chills. She shuddered and closed her eyes for ten minutes. A soft knock on the window awoke her from her daze and she caught a glimpse of a wide-brimmed, black hat.

That hat from… Mort's room, Stella thought, a chill running through her. She got up quickly and turned the lights off in the sunroom, not planning to go back for the rest of the night. She took a quick shower, avoiding looking out the windows or looking into any mirrors. She lay in bed, her back away from the mirror and the window.

This is too weird… Stella thought, closing her eyes tightly. She tried to sleep, but couldn't seemed to focus her attention on it.

Intrigue

Mort awoke on his couch and sat up slowly. His appearance gave the idea that he hadn't been asleep at all, not even for a brief moment. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes before putting them back on.

"Why'd you go there?" Mort asked out loud, staring at what to other people would be an empty corner of the living room, but to Mort there was another man; a man wearing a black suit jacket with jeans and a wide-brimmed black hat.

"She's going to ruin our ending," the man replied with a southern accent.

"How? No one knows," Mort said with a bit of agitation in his voice.

"Oh, she'll know. She's a smart one, and I saw her… I saw her reading Amy's journal. I reckon she'll find out." The man moved from the corner of the room to in front of the fireplace.

"Just calm down, Shooter." Mort got up and headed for the stairs, not picking up the detail about Amy's journal.

"She'll ruin it. I swear it." Shooter followed him up the stairs and to Mort's desk. "You know she will."

Mort turned to Shooter, a stern look fixed on his face. "Look, Stella knows nothing. I didn't say anything about what happened, I didn't tell her about my past experiences with Amy, and I bet that she doesn't even know who the hell Amy is. No one will know Amy anymore, and that's the end of this conversation."

Mort turned his back on Shooter, and didn't hear another word from him. He removed the black hat from his head with no recollection of putting it on and tossed it on the armchair a few feet away from his desk. He never knew when he put the hat on or how, but he always knew it was there.

"You don't know anything, Shooter," Mort muttered. He entered his room and looked back at the black hat sitting on the armchair. He felt tempted to find out for himself if Stella was remotely close to revealing his secret, but he caught himself before he move another inch and closed his room door instead.

Lying on his bed, he stared blankly at the ceiling. The suspicion of Stella knowing was in the farthest regions of his mind and his top priority was how he would put it, winning Stella over. He tortured him from time to time to just watch her from a hidden window in his house. He had the chance, and he knew it, but he wasn't taking it. He tried to convince himself that he was no longer afraid of betrayal now that Amy had been taken care of, but small reminisce of that day would come back to him and make him feel that fear all over again.

"She's just a memory now, remember," Mort whispered to himself and closed his eyes.

Intrigue

Everything seemed clearer in the morning, including Stella's mind. She tried to brush aside the thoughts from the previous night, and was half successful in it. She was able to get through the morning without wandering off into her wasteland of thoughts and assumptions.

While she worked on her story, she found herself taking quick glances back at the journal and wanting to read it over three times and take each entry apart piece by piece just like she had in the bureau with a piece of evidence. The urge to go deeper into Amy and Mort's story were growing as time passed and as Stella stared at the blinking cursor more frequently.

No, it's all over. You won't be able to figure out who had killed Amy and why. The case was closed for a reason that was probably beyond your own understanding, Stella thought degradingly in attempt to make herself give up and go back to the present.

It never worked though. She constantly told herself degrading things during the day and none of them worked. The urge to dig deeper swelled until Stella thought she couldn't take it anymore. She got up quickly and picked up the phone. She dialed the number to the bureau and Ben's extension number by heart.

"Hello?" Ben's familiar voice asked.

"Hey, Ben, it's Stella," Stella said quickly.

"Hey, Stell. What can I do for you?" Ben asked.

"Listen; can you do me a favor?" Stella asked. "It's important."

"Sure, what do you need?"

"I need you to look up information about a man named Morton Rainey… anything you can find, please," Stella answered.

"Just a sec." There was a faint clicking noise in the background coming from the keyboard and it stopped briefly.

"Well?" Stella asked, a bit impatiently.

"Hey, this is the famous author… but anyway, there's absolutely nothing. He's basically got a clean profile except for a case where he was accused of plagiarism, but the accusation was proved false after the trial."

"Okay, thanks so much, Ben," Stella said gratefully.

"Why do you need this information anyway?"

"Nothing important," Stella said quickly. "I'll talk to you later."

Stella hung up the phone and sat down at the kitchen table. She thought hard and long before returning to her work. She thought of where to start first, who she would ask, and what kind of leads she needed. Amy's journal was part of the start, but to complete it, she needed someone who knew Mort. The hat in his room being the same one in her dreams and window was too coincidental for her to let go so easily. Everything was connecting weakly, but with enough poking around, Stella knew she'd get to the bottom of it. Whether it was Mort or some psycho, she knew she had to get to the bottom of it.