Who Can It Be Now Chapter 12, a 7th heaven fanfic

Mary drove to what used to be Wilson's house and pulled up alongside. She couldn't bear to sit in the driveway, too many memories, so she parked in front of the house and just stared at it. The dark green door, the beige and white stucco, it was almost more than she could handle. Mary just sat there thinking about the first time she came there. Wilson had brought her back after their third date; they had gone twenty minutes away to a new, chic restaurant that had opened a few weeks earlier. She commented on how well he must be doing, and he just laughed at her. They sat in the car for the next fifteen minutes talking. Wilson explained how the house was killing him, but he fell in love with it. It was just as much as he could afford.

Wilson said that he bought the house because he had a feeling about it, that he knew it was the right thing to do and even though they'd be strapped for money for a few years everything would work out in the end. Mary doubted that he ever thought that he was going to be murdered in that house. She still found it hard to wrap her head around that.

Mary sat outside of the house and thought about things for a while. She wondered if he knew he was going to be killed, or if it came suddenly. She wondered if he was scared. She wondered if he knew the killer. She wondered how – not if – Wilson protected Billy. Mary held her tears in lieu of staring at the sharp lines of the building and thinking of Wilson's final moments. She didn't want to have to cry anymore.

After a few hours of solitude, Mary drove off and went back home. She didn't go inside; she just sat in the backyard on the steps staring into space. She wasn't done thinking yet. Lucy came walking out of the kitchen and nearly tripped over Mary en route to the garage.

"Mary?" Mary didn't respond to Lucy, so Lucy sat down next to her. "Have you been here all morning?"

"No. I went and sat outside of Wilson's house, and then I came and sat here." Her voice was monotone and somber, devoid of all emotion.

"Why all the sitting?"

"Just thinking."

"About?"

Mary turned her head to face Lucy. "There are so many unanswered questions, you know? So many things that I will never know, that no one will ever know."

"Like what?"

"Like who the killer was."

"What about the investigation? That detective. Can't he find that out?"

Mary shook her head and began to get choked up. "They're calling it off. They have no more leads and they don't want to do it anymore."

"What? It's only been two months. Some detective this guy is."

"I know. But there's nothing to go on. Two months or two years, I don't know how much it would matter. The guy didn't leave any evidence except for their bodies." She sniveled. "So unless he comes forward and says that he did it, I don't know how they are going to catch him." Lucy wrapped her arms around Mary's shoulders and Mary rested her head on her little sister. "I'm just so upset and confused, Luce. I want to know what it is that he did to deserve this. Because, because if he did something that justified him being killed, then we all should be dead."

Lucy patted her head. She really thought Mary was losing it. "I know sweetie. I know."

"I'm not saying that he was perfect, because he wasn't, but he was pretty close. He was still human, but he was the best man I have ever known."

Lucy nodded. "Every time I saw him, he was always so nice and kind. That's a rarity in today's world."

Mary wiped her eyes. "Sometimes I think I should have been the one to die."

The next day, Mary was back at work for another Monday morning in the office. She started off by filing the paperwork left over from the Friday before, and then went quickly to work typing up some figures into a spreadsheet that she had to fax off to an accountant. Mary liked the busy work. It kept her mind on the little tasks and let the worrying part of her brain take a rest. But ever since Mary had started to repress a lot of her emotions and thoughts, she had been getting these horrible headaches. She started working at 9:00, and by her 12:15 lunch break her head was killing her.

Mary looked in her purse for her bottle of aspirin. Of course she was all out after the doses she had been taking just to get through the day, so she decided to use her forty-five minute meal break to run back home and get some. She got into her car and must have passed about three drug stores on the way home, but she didn't feel like stopping. Driving was relaxing and Mary wanted to spend the extra five minutes in the car it would take her to get home.

When she got out of her car, she noticed the mailman was coming up the driveway right behind her. Smiling, she took the mail from him and went inside. She threw the mail lazily on the kitchen counter and went up to her bedroom for her pills. She came back down and poured herself a glass of water and downed the pill with one gulp. She thumbed through the mail next to her before leaving again while rubbing her forehead with her middle finger and thumb. There was a letter in the pile in a plain white envelope addressed to her in a generic font without a return address.

Mary carefully opened the envelope and slipped out its inside was a white square of paper small enough to fit into the envelope without having to be folded. The back side was facing her, so she turned it over. On the paper was a message spelled out in letters clipped from magazines and newspapers. Her heart jumped to her throat when she realized what she was holding in her hand.

Meet me three hundred paces past the red delivery door in the back of the Towne Center Supermarket at 9:00 tomorrow in the woods. If you come alone, you will find out my identity. If not, you will find nothing.

A/N: Da da dum. But honestly. I doubt that they would just close the case like that after…two months, or whatever I said it had been. I guess the only thing I can say is that it was what I came up with that fit in with where I was going after this. That whole aspirin thing has to go, too. I need a longer attention span. I know this stuff isn't great, but I can't sit long enough to fix them. Or care enough. Probably that last one, haha.

Anyhoo, next chapter I kind of like. If you take it out of context and just read it as it is, it's not half bad I don't think. It was actually almost written well. But savor it, because that's the last good thing that's coming from this story. The whole rest is awful. I recently came up with an ending- a three hundred word conversation about nothing that has to do with anything and ties up nothing. We'll see if I use that or not.

What do you think Mary is going to do now? Review.