Chapter 17

"Who were you talking to?" Deja asked.

"Oh, nobody...go back to bed, hon."

Deja proceeded to descend the staircase. She kept walking until she was directly in front of him. She could smell the whiskey on his breath.

"Have you been drinking," she asked, concerned.

"Yeah, just a little Jack Daniels. Why?"

She paused, "No reason...just didn't know you drank..."

Mort began to laugh. "Deja, it's only a little alcohol. I am of age you know?"

"I know," she smiled, trying to make light of the situation, "just forget it."

Mort leaned forward and gave Deja a soft kiss right behind her right ear. He didn't want her to feel uneasy. And he was hoping she'd forget about what she'd heard. She smiled, obviously enjoying what Mort was doing to her.

He kept kissing her neck. "So...," she was losing her train of thought, "who...was at...the door," she managed to finish."

"Just a neighbor," Mort continued to nibble on her neck.

"Sounded like...he wasn't...too happy...with you." Deja could barely concentrate with Mort placing kisses all over her neck.

"Can we please forget about the neighbor?" and with that, Mort picked her up in both of his arms and carried her upstairs into the bedroom.

The next morning, Deja woke up before Mort. She decided to get up and make herself a cup of coffee. As she closed the door to the bedroom, she noticed Mort's laptop open on his desk. She wondered if he'd written anything else to his story since she'd last read it.

She sat down in his chair and moved the mouse. The computer came to life with Mort's story displayed on the screen. Deja looked to the bottom of the screen and noticed it was on page 158. He'd managed to get a lot done since she'd last read an excerpt.

"The voices in David's head would not stop. He didn't know what to do. Over and over they repeated the same phrase: "Claire Must Die!" David knew that no matter where he went, the strange voices would follow. He loved Claire, but he wanted his mind to stop playing with him. In order for that to happen, he had to do it. He had to kill Claire. She would never understand. He wouldn't even try to make her understand. He'd just do it. One shot to the head and it would all be over."

"All right, Morty boy," she said out loud, "we've gotta get you to start writing something else." Deja let out a loud sigh and went down to the kitchen to make her coffee.

At about 10:30 that same morning, Mort made his way downstairs. Deja had apparently already taken a shower and was no where in sight. He did however, notice that her running shoes were no longer at the front door. He assumed she'd taken a morning jog. He decided to make himself some breakfast and get back to work on his story.

He had been sitting in front of his screen for the last 15 minutes and the cursor hadn't moved. He had no inspiration. He wasn't in the mood to write, but he knew this story would bring him bestseller status. And with that, plenty of paychecks would start to roll in.

"This is one morbid story," he muttered to himself. After sitting there for another five minutes with still nothing new written on the page, he decided to give up. He headed for the shower and hoped that Deja would be back by the time he was done.

Deja loved staying here at Mort's house. Jogging was so much nicer when you had more than just trees to look at. The beautiful lake made it all the more special. She'd been running nonstop for about 30 minutes now and she desperately needed a break. She was bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath when she heard something behind her.

Not sure of what the noise was, she ignored it. But something in her gut was telling her to get out of there. She began to walk back towards the cabin. Suddenly she heard another noise and a car door slam. Deja began to pick up the pace. She tried to remain calm, but her nerves were getting the best of her. She turned around to see a car coming up behind her.

She'd heard about women out for their daily jogs being kidnapped and thrown into cars by psycho killers. She was determined to not let that happen to her. She quickened her pace, doing a full on sprint. The car was right on her trail and began to honk it's horn at her. Maybe they just want to pass? she thought.

She moved to the side of the dirt road and stopped. As soon as she did, the car pulled up to her and stopped. "Sorry, hope I didn't scare you?" an elderly man asked.

"Can I help you?" Deja asked, still a little on edge.

"My name's Dave Newsome. Sheriff Newsome," he could see Deja's face relax. "I hear you're staying at the Rainey place?"

"Yeah," Deja responded quietly.

"I'm not sure if you know about your friend, Mr. Rainey, but..."

"Yes, I'm fully aware of what YOU people here in Tashmore Lake think of Mort, and I don't care to hear anymore about it," she said in a loud tone.

"Well, I just think you need to know what kind of man you're dealing with. I'd hate to see you up and disappear like Mort's EX-WIFE," Sheriff Newsome replied.

Deja had to silently laugh after that comment. He made it a point to stress the word 'ex-wife' as if she didn't know that Mort had been married before. Like that information would make her leave Mort. She rolled her eyes.

"Look, Sheriff Newsome. I appreciate that you're trying to look out for my well-being, but Mort and I are in love and I just don't believe that he did what you guys are trying to accuse him of...And further more I'd appreciate it if you didn't bother me again."

Deja began to slowly jog towards the house. She was tired of hearing these disturbing things about Mort. She had just forgotten about what Diana had told her at the store and now Sheriff Newsome was bringing it all back up again. Deja felt like she could trust Mort, but she wasn't sure of what to believe anymore.

Deja walked in the house and plopped down on the couch. She was completely out of breath and had a terrible headache. She called out to Mort, but got no response. She figured he was probably still asleep. She pried herself off the couch and went into the downstairs bathroom to search the cabinets for Tylenol. After finally finding it, Deja went to the kitchen, made herself a glass of water and took her medicine. She went back to the living room and lied down on the couch.

She didn't know how long she'd been asleep, but when she awoke she found Mort staring at her intently. He was seated on the coffee table directly in front of her. Deja was a little uncomfortable with him staring at her in her sleep.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, yawning.

"Just a couple of minutes," he said softly, leaning forward to brush the hair out of her face.

"Where were you when I got back from running?"

"Here. I must've been upstairs writing," he answered.

"I called your name," Deja said.

"Sorry about that. When I get into my zone with writing, I kinda zone everyone else out," he smiled and laughed. "But I'm all yours now."

"Well, now that I've had my little catnap and you've gotten some work done, how about we take a swim?" she asked eagerly.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Let me just give my mom a quick call and I'll meet you in the water," as Mort went upstairs to change, Deja began to dial her mother's number on the phone.

"Hi mom!" Deja said, excitedly.

"Hi baby! It's so good to hear from you!" Janice was obviously happy to hear from her daughter. "How are things going with...mmmm...oh, what's his name?..."

"It's Mort, mom," Deja had to laugh. She normally told her mom everything, but things with Mort had been such a whirlwind that she barely had time to talk to her mom about anything.

"That's right, so how's the cabin?" Janice questioned.

"Oh, it's great mom. We're having lots of fun. We're about to go swimming in a minute, but I wanted to call you to see how you were."

"Well, I'm fine baby. Actually, better than fine. Richard is taking me to Montego Bay on Friday!"

Richard had been dating Deja's mom for about eight months now and Deja was pretty fond of him. "Montego Bay! As in Jamaica!" Deja asked.

"Yep! He just sprung it on me. Said he wanted to take me on a two week getaway. I figured since I didn't have a job and my only daughter is all grown up I may as well enjoy myself." Janice said.

"Well, that sounds like an awesome vacation. Tell Richard he gets lots of brownie points for that one," she said, "do you have your hotel information so I can contact you in case of an emergency?"

"Yeah, hold on," Janice left the phone and came back within a minute, "And an emergency is the only reason you better call," she laughed. "Okay...we're staying at the Sunset Beach Resort & Spa." Janice proceeded to give Deja the hotel information and after a little more girl talk the two said their good-byes.

Deja headed upstairs to change into her swimsuit. She decided to be a little more revealing today than she'd been on their last swimming adventure. She wanted Mort's eyes to bug out of his head when she walked outside. And for that reaction Deja knew exactly which bathing suit to put on.

Mort was sitting on the edge of the lake waiting for Deja to come out. Just as he turned around he saw her walking in his direction. She was truly a sight to behold. She had the most seductive walk he'd ever seen. Her bikini, if you can call it that, blew his mind. It was a knit material all in white. An itty bitty string bikini. And Mort loved it. Her long, dark hair flowed behind her. In this moment Deja was the most beautiful woman Mort had ever encountered.

She walked up to him, leaned over and whispered into his ear, "I wanna see you wet, Mr. Rainey." Mort had never seen the 'naughty' side of Deja, he was definitely savoring this moment.

He got up and followed her into the lake like a little lost puppy. Her walk, she knew exactly what she was doing. He couldn't wait to get her in the water. She threw the towel in her hand to the ground along with her sunglasses.

Instead of walking into the water, Deja walked up to the pier and dove in. The cool water overtook her body as she made her descention. She felt like she couldn't hold her breath anymore and she started upwards.

Once she broke the water's surface, she immediately began to look for Mort. He was sitting on the edge of the pier, dangling his feet over the water. Deja started to swim toward him.

Once she reached him, she looked up at him and began to tread water. "Not coming in?" she asked.

"I'm enjoying the view from here," he replied cheekily.

"Well, this big lake sure is lonely with you not in it," Deja replied in a breathy, Marilyn Monroe impression. She had the biggest pout on her face.

Mort couldn't resist, so he jumped in. After coming up for air, he swam over to Deja who had come a little further to shore so she could stand up. "I love you," Mort said as he swam up behind her.

"I love you too," she said as she turned around to face him.

They began to passionately kiss for what seemed like hours. Deja couldn't remember ever feeling like this her entire life. Mort's kisses were like honey. Sweet and slow. She could feel him trying to undo her bikini top.

Breaking the kiss she said, "Mort what are you doing?"

"What? This is my property. No one's gonna see," he gave her that sexy smile of his.

"Don't think so cowboy," Deja began to walk towards the house.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"Inside to shower. You coming?"

And with that Mort took off after her. He was not about to pass up the opportunity to get into the shower with her.

After a 'thorough cleaning,' they both toweled off and headed to the bedroom. "Where's my robe?" Mort asked.

"Not sure babe." Deja replied, looking through her suitcase for her hairdryer.

"Didn't you use it yesterday?" his temper seemed to be rising.

"Ummm...I think so...I'm sure it's around here somewhere..." She had become totally preoccupied with searching for the hairdryer and wasn't paying Mort much attention.

"Well do you mind helping me look for it!" The tone of his voice snapped her back to their conversation.

"Whoa, calm down will you? It's only an old robe..." she said nonchalantly.

"That OLD robe belonged to Amy!" he yelled.

"Jeez, I'm sorry Mort. I'll check downstairs," she said as she left the room. She couldn't believe what'd gotten into Mort. She'd never seen him this upset. It scared her a little.

Once downstairs she found what she was looking for. The tattered, striped robe was lying on the floor behind the sofa. Had she known it was Amy's she never would have worn it. But Mort had seen her with it on more than once and it never seemed to bother him. She figured his frustrations were just now coming out. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I found it," she called up to him.

He came downstairs and snatched the robe from her hands. "If you can't take care of this properly then I suggest you don't touch it at all!"

"You've got an attitude!" Deja yelled back, "Why don't you stay down here and cool off! I'm going upstairs." And with that she ran up the stairs and slammed the door to the bedroom shut.

She couldn't believe he'd gotten that angry over the robe. It's not like she'd ruined it or anything. It was just misplaced. Mort obviously had some pent up anger about Amy missing. Although she wanted to talk to him about it, she knew this was not the time. She needed to be alone and figured he needed the same.

Swimming always made her tired and she figured a good nap is what she needed to relieve her tension. She woke up when she heard the bedroom door opening. She rolled over and looked towards the door. Mort stood there looking apologetic.

"It's been two hours," he began, "I figured I needed to come check on you."

Deja looked away. She was still upset about what happened. "Look Deja, I'm really sorry I upset you earlier. I didn't know that the robe missing would bring those emotions out of me. I guess I still have some issues I need to work out."

"Ya think?" she replied sarcastically, immediately regretting it as soon as she said it.

She heard Mort walking towards her. "You know, it's not easy for me to apologize. I'd think you could be a little more appreciative." Suddenly Deja could hear his voice begin to change. It was still Mort, but somehow different. She continued to listen as he went on, "Do you hear me!" he yelled directly in her ear making her jump up.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" she yelled back, getting off the bed and standing directly in front of Mort. She could see something in Mort's eyes change. It's like he wasn't himself anymore.

"Now I don't think you'll be wantin' to take that tone of voice with me, missy," his deep, southern drawl was out in full force now.

Deja began to back up slowly towards the wall. With every step back that she took, Mort took a step forward. "Mort, you're scaring me. Please stop talking like that," she pleaded.

"Oh, hon you've got me confused. The name's Shooter. John Shooter."

Just then, Deja realized this was the man Mort was talking to the other night. It wasn't some neighbor. Mort was talking to himself.