Disclaimer: I don't own Mort Rainey or anything Secret Window. That belongs to Stephen King.

AN: Thanks for your support! I didn't know how many people would read this, but I'm glad that people like it and review it. It means a lot to me. I love you all!

Chapter 3: Constant Appearances:

Two days after the book signing: Amber's POV:

Ripping open the envelope my father had handed me, I tried not to get my hopes up too high. Unfolding the letter and reading its contents, I felt what little hope I had shatter into a million pieces; I'd been turned down for employment once again. Crumpling the rejection note and tossing it into the fireplace, I tried not to show how upset and crushed I was. Unfortunately, my dad saw right through me, as usual.

"Turned down again, pumpkin?" he asked, his voice gentle and understanding as he took his lunch out of the microwave. "Don't worry, you've only been out of school for a month. You'll find work."

I tried not to cry in front of my biggest supporter, knowing that if Dad saw my tears, it would only make him believe that he was the cause. Sometimes I think he's the only person on the planet who can read me like an open book and pick me up when I feel down. However, the tears would have to wait; they would fall as soon as he'd gone back to the office. Instead, I put on my best false smile as I watched him sit down with his lunch, actually glad that he came home for his hour lunch break to distract me from my job hunt.

"Yeah, you're right," I said, flashing a false, but convincing, smile as I took a seat across from him. "Just gotta keep my head up."

My dad smiled and nodded as he took a bite of leftover casserole. Not wanting to watch him eat, I took the classified ads, comics, and entertainment sections out of the paper, spreading them out in front of me so I wouldn't have to rummage through a stack for them later. When I had finished going through the fruitless classified pages, I shifted my attention to the entertainment section to read the latest gossip on Hollywood's biggest stars. My hands froze in mid-air when I saw who was on the front of the entertainment pages. A familiar set of brown eyes framed by glasses stared back at me from under messy brown-blond hair; I swear my heart stopped in my chest.

"Pumpkin, are you alright? What's wrong?" my dad asked, moving over to my side of the table. He paused by my chair to see what I was looking at. "Oh, it's that author guy you saw with Kari, right? He's kind of scruffy-looking, isn't he?" A smirk formed on my dad's mouth, quickly becoming contagious as it soon spread onto my own face.

A split second later, I couldn't help but laugh at him. "Yeah, he is, isn't he?" I asked, tucking the section away and moving to the comics. I could really use the laughs, especially after seeing the article and reliving the mall scenes involving Mort Rainey in my head.

Dad finished his lunch at the same time I finished up with the comics. He cleaned up his dishes, kissed me on the forehead, and left for work again. I immediately went back to the computer that I was now chained to in order to look for work. Not that it did much good; I'd applied to dozens of places, and they'd all turned me down for some crappy reason or another. I didn't understand why, though; I was educated, I'd worked a bit before, and I was an extremely hard working and friendly person.

"So what's wrong with me?" I muttered to myself as I stared hopelessly at the blank screen.

I was spared from answering myself thanks to the doorbell ringing. Profusely thanking the Powers Above for the interruption, I raced to take a peek outside, hoping it wasn't the damn neighbor kids playing another prank (or worse yet, a salesman trying to pawn off some crappy cleaning product for our bathroom). Imagine my surprise at finding that it was a UPS guy, though why he'd be here was beyond me. My parents rarely (if ever) bought anything through the mail, so it had to belong to one of the neighbors; it wouldn't be the first time a package had been delivered to our house by mistake. Shrugging, I opened the door.

"Yes?" I asked, spotting a small package in his hands.

"Are you Amber Olson?" the guy asked, checking the package and the number above our doorbell.

"That's what it says on my state ID," I replied, smiling. He smiled back as he handed me the package.

"Then this is for you," he said, also handing over the device needed for customer signatures. "Sign here, please." After the task was completed, he tipped his hat to me before peeling off in his truck.

Closing the door, I eagerly looked to see who it was from, but didn't recognize the return address in the corner. Where the Hell was Tashmore Lake, anyway? I pushed the thought out of my head as I tore the brown paper, revealing silver wrapping paper and ribbons underneath. It was hard to resist ripping the beautiful paper to shreds to get at the contents inside, but my curiosity was eating me up. I decided to throw caution to the wind and go for it, but carefully; the paper must have cost a bit of money, and it might come in handy later. I took the package to the kitchen table and sat down, spending ten minutes carefully untying the ribbons and loosening the wrapping paper just enough to slide the container out. It was a long, narrow leather case, very elegant and well made. Once it was safely in my hands, I opened the leather box and was shocked to find the silver and diamond bracelet I'd seen in the mall. Only one other person knew about it, and the fact that he had found my home and my family scared the shit out of me.

Despite knowing nothing about who I was or where I was from, Mort Rainey had somehow found me.

A week later: Amber's POV:

It had been over a week since I'd seen Mort Rainey at the book signing, and I was this close to calling the cops on the guy. Seriously, the man has problems! Not only does he have the nerve to send stuff to my home (never mind how the Hell he found out where I lived), but then he starts showing up whenever I started going into out of the house!

Flashback:

Five days ago, I'd gotten tired of leftovers and had gone into the center of our tiny town with the intention of getting an Italian soda and a sandwich wrap for lunch. I'd barely sat down and dug into my food when someone boldly took a seat across from me. Expecting a long-lost friend (or, more likely, an enemy) from high school, I had nearly dropped my food into my lap when I saw the oh-so-familiar thick rimmed glasses and brown eyes, complete with tousled brown-blond hair. My mouth dropped open and I simply stared at him for at least a full minute before responding.

"What are you doing here?" I gasped, dropping my food back onto my plate. What the heck was Mort Rainey doing, and how did he find me here?

"Oh, don't let me interrupt," he replied, smiling at me as he leaned closer, over the table. "Go ahead and eat. I'll just keep you company."

Eating had been the last thing on my mind at that point, but I did anyway. Besides, the person behind the counter was beginning to look at me kind of oddly. As I forced the food down, I'd tried not to notice how Mr. Rainey watched every move I made. When I'd finished eating, I simply sat there, sipping my Italian soda and not making eye contact. However, I could still feel his eyes watching my every move, and for some reason, he was extremely focused on my face. Several moments of eerie silence passed, the only sounds in the shop coming from the espresso machine and the clock on the wall. I was in the middle of conceiving an escape plan when Mr. Rainey broke the silence.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.

My head snapped up. "What?" I asked, extremely surprised that he's ask such a question.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked again, brown eyes boring directly into mine.

I considered lying to him, but decided against it. His question scared me, and I couldn't help but wonder why he wanted to know something so personal about me. I thought it was a bit much, but I didn't want to lie to the man. I mean, what if he was violent or something? Inwardly sighing, I decided to be honest with the guy, even if he was a weirdo.

"No, I don't have a boyfriend," I said, glancing out the window as I sipped my drink. I saw his reflection in the glass, his face suddenly changing from intense and focused to relaxed and...relieved? That was odd; why would he be relieved about my not having a boyfriend?

Not wanting to be in that café any longer with the extremely odd author, I picked up my strawberry Italian soda and bolted for the door, hoping to get away before he knew what was happening. I counted myself lucky that I'd hidden behind some garbage cans, and extremely relieved when he ran by and totally missed me. After waiting several minutes, I had raced home as fast as I could, slamming and locking the door behind me. Before I went to bed that night, I'd done some things that I'd never done before: I double-checked the doors and windows, even taking the bathroom nightlight into my room to help me sleep better. The most disturbing thing was that I hadn't slept with a nightlight since I was a kid.

Three days after the café incident, with no sign of Mr. Rainey anywhere near my home, I'd decided to go for a walk, staying away from town in case he was still there. I had been a few minutes from returning home when I felt someone following me. I slightly sped up my pace and could make out the sound of footsteps behind me, trying to keep up. At that point I decided that enough was enough; I ran like Hell for home, hoping to get there and get inside before it was too late. It never happened. I hadn't made it past the corner before I was grabbed and spun around, coming face-to-face with the mental author.

"Amber, why are you running away from me?" Mort asked, staring down at me with those dark eyes as he gripped my shoulders.

"Why am I running?" I asked, my voice turning shrill with panic as I struggled again him. "Besides you finding my house and sending expensive gifts to a girl you've hardly known more than two minutes? Then you show up in my hometown, watch me while I eat, ask questions about my personal life, and run after me down a street, and you want to know why I'm running away from you?!"

At that point, I'd tried to take a deep breath and think of a way to escape, but with him holding me in a death-grip, it wasn't going to happen without a fight. 'Why didn't I listen to Dad when he tried to teach me self defense?' I mentally slapped myself. Dad was a black-belt in karate, and I'd told him I'd never need his lessons in a small, quiet town like ours. Well, that proved me wrong on that point!

Mort sighed, his hands relaxing on my shoulders to suddenly start a rubbing motion up and down my upper arms. "I don't understand why you're so scared of me, Amber," he murmured, taking a step closer to me, his face a few inches from mine. I tried backing away, but he was too strong. "Please tell me what I've done."

That was unexpected. Still, I answered him honestly. "It's your books," I said, not making eye contact. "They're so well detailed about psychos and murders it's almost like you've actually done it!"

I heard a sharp intake of breath. "I see," he whispered, his hands still caressing my shoulders. "Well, I'll just have to show you that I'm not as bad as you think I am."

Then, to my surprise, he'd released me and walked away without looking back. Taking advantage of the given freedom, I had turned and run for home.

End Flashback

That had been two days ago. Why I'd never told my parents about the incidents and the gifts, I don't know. Well, the last thing I needed was for my mom to become an even freakier person than she already was, and I definitely didn't want Dad locking me up in the house for the rest of my life! I guess I'd just have to wait for Mort Rainey to go back to whatever he came from. Hopefully, it would be soon.

That same day: Mort's POV:

Pacing back and forth across his hotel room, Mort could feel desperation swell up inside him. The woman of his dreams was less than a mile from his hotel, and all he wanted to do was go to her, take her in his arms and kiss every part of her body that he could get at. That day at the coffee shop had told him what he wanted to know: she was free for the taking, because there was no boyfriend to get in his way or to steal her from.

The problem was that he couldn't get near her! For some reason, Amber was deathly afraid of him, despite the fact that Shooter was gone. True, Amber didn't know about Shooter and what he'd done, but in a way she did; she'd read what Shooter had made his other half write, and therefore knew what Mort's other half was capable of.

"But he's gone," Mort muttered, still pacing. "Shooter's gone, and there's only me. But how am I going to make her see that?"

He thought that the bracelet had been a nice touch, though an expensive one. Perhaps he'd gone too far by intruding on her lunch and following her around during her walk. Yes, that was it...she probably thought he was stalking her!

"Nice one, Mort," he groaned, smacking his forehead. "You've scared the shit out of the woman of your dreams, and now she probably never wants to see you again!"

So what could he do now? Amber would probably call the police the second he showed up at her door, and her parents would probably try and kill him for scaring their daughter. There had to be some way to get her to spend some time with him...maybe even come with him to Tashmore Lake and see what a nice life he led and what a nice guy he was.

Mort stopped in his tracks. "THAT'S IT!" he shouted. In an instant, his suitcase was packed and he was ready to go. He had some serious business to take care of before he carried out his plan.

Amber's POV:

I groaned as I rolled out of bed, ready for yet another day of job hunting. It had been two weeks since I'd last seen Mort Rainey, and I couldn't be happier. Well, actually, that wasn't true; I could be happier, if I only had a job and a way to get away from my mom, but I was fairly happy as it was. My psycho author-stalker hadn't shown hide-nor-hair of himself in fourteen days, and that was a huge relief!

After I finished showering, I went about my usual routine of job hunting, instant messaging my Internet pals, and checking my e-mail. All in all, it had been a calm day, until my darling mother got home. She came through the door, and the first thing she did was get on my case.

"What have you been doing today?" she demanded, hovering over my shoulder, her head directly above mine.

"Looking for work," I replied truthfully. Unfortunately, I had my Instant Messenger open and she took it the wrong way.

"No, you're not!" she snapped, jabbing a finger at the computer screen. "You're playing something! What are you doing?"

I barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes. Sometimes I think it's her Asian blood and temper that makes her act like such a bitch to us. The problem is that, as her daughter, I tend to act on my temper, too. In this case, though, in trying to keep my temper in check, I took a deep breath to cool off. Dad always said to keep calm and ignore her, but most of the time it only makes things worse.

"I'm taking a break," I said, not making eye contact; that would only make her angrier.

"Taking a break?" Mom said, tapping the screen. "How do I know you haven't been doing this all day? Get off right now!"

"But I haven't talked to my friend in two weeks!" I protested. It was true; this friend had been offline for weeks, and I'd only now gotten hold of her.

"And you can wait two more weeks to talk to her," my mother snapped, black eyes flashing. "Get off, NOW!"

"ALL RIGHT! GET OFF MY BACK!" I yelled, finally tired of her riding my case. I quickly typed an apology to my friend and got offline.

"Don't talk to me that way!" she screamed, slapping her hand down on the computer desk. "I'm your mother! I deserve respect!"

"Like Hell you do!" I screamed back before running up to my room, slamming the door on my mother's screams of protest. I threw myself onto my bed and began crying into my pillow.

As my tears were absorbed into my pillow case, I could hear my folks screaming across the hall in their room. My mother was yelling about how disrespectful I was and how she didn't deserve to be yelled at by her daughter. After all, she was only trying to 'help' me!

Yeah, right. Right off a cliff, she'd help me! For some reason, she thinks she's always right, no matter what. So she's a bitch and a moron; great combination, don't you think?

Sighing, I got up and popped Linkin Park into my machine and listened for a while, falling asleep to their depressing lyrics.

The next day: Amber's POV:

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping and car doors slamming. Looking at my alarm clock, I realized that it was 10:00 a.m., and I'd been asleep for over 16 hours. Swallowing, I also realized that I hadn't brushed my teeth, either, and my mouth felt furry and icky. I probably looked like shit, too.

After a nice shower and a thorough tooth-brushing, I decided to go for a brisk late-morning walk before once again gluing my eyes to the Internet in search of work. Pulling on my tennis shoes, jeans and tight t-shirt, I scribbled a note to my dad for when he came home for lunch, telling him I'd be back to join him later. Grabbing my purse and keys, I headed out the door and out into the warm autumn sun and down the sidewalk, towards town.

Halfway through my walk, I learned something important: living in a small, quiet town can be both a blessing and a curse. On weekdays like today, parents are at work, the kids are at school, and everyone else is anywhere but at home, so walks are peaceful. The only residents at home are the family pets, and the only ones outside are the dogs, who bark like Hell when someone passes by. I'd learned to tune them out, and that lesson was one I regret learning, because sometimes a dog's bark indicates danger.

It was a danger I didn't see coming.

As I walked past a large green van, I noticed that the windows were tinted and the back doors were open, but no one was in sight. I wanted to peek inside, but decided against it. Thinking that the owner would be back soon, I simply walked past, not noticing that I wasn't alone until it was too late. A cloth covered my nose and mouth as a strong arm wrapped around my waist. The last thing I saw before darkness fell was a familiar face smiling down at me.

Mort's POV:

The moment Amber fell back into his arms was one of the happiest of his life. Once he was sure she was unconscious, Mort swung her up and into the back of the van he had rented. After gently setting her down on the heap of blankets and pillows he'd put in the back, he slammed and locked the rear doors. Tucking the keys into his pocket, Mort climbed into the driver's seat and inserted the ignition key from a separate keychain, extremely happy with what he'd done. Looking back, he made sure the sliding door separating the rear and front of the van was locked, preventing her from escaping.

Now she was his.

Mort only hoped that Amber would forgive him for what he did, but even if she didn't, he wasn't going to give her up without a fight! He'd do anything to win her over, and he would, no matter what the cost.

AN: Feedback is appreciated! Thanks!