Disclaimer: I don't own Secret Window, and I'm not making money off this story.

Ghost Writer

Chapter Two: Like Minded

Anna rested her forehead against the cold glass of the passenger side window of Mort Rainey's Black Jeep. She tried to bury herself in the warmth of the clothes he had graciously lent her after the brief swim in the ice cold lake. He had been nothing but a quiet, shy gentleman through the entire embarrassing situation which only made Anna want to sink further into the seat.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Rainey," she said for the tenth time.

He smiled graciously in her direction. "I told you, it's not a problem."

"I must have woken you up though."

"No, actually you didn't."

"Then I interrupted your writing." She could tell from the brief look on his face that he was grasping for words. So she had interrupted his writing. But he merely shrugged.

"Nothing I can't pick up when I get back home. I'm just relieved you didn't drown. I would hate to explain that to the Sheriff. He already wants a piece of me for some reason."

"Is that why you don't shop in town?"

"Yeah. I don't know what I did to piss off the people of Tashmore, but it must have been something big."

Anna stared at him to see if he was joking but his eyes stayed on the road, a serious look on his face. "You mean you haven't heard the rumors?"

"The rumors that I killed my wife and her boyfriend? Yeah, I heard them. I just didn't think that the Sheriff would put much stock in the rumor mill. Maybe they really think I did it."

"Well, I don't believe the rumors. God knows there's been plenty spread about me."

She heard a short laugh come from Mort. "Really? Well, I don't make it into town to hear them, so please, do tell."

Anna chewed on her thumbnail. She probably shouldn't have mentioned anything about the rumors surrounding herself. But something told her that he would understand. Or at least not laugh at her. "Everyone thinks I'm crazy."

"Ah. Trust me when I say I know what that feels like. Everyone thinks writers have a screw loose."

Anna nodded her head. "They think if your mother has a mental illness that you must have it too."

Mort nodded his head solemnly. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

Anna watched her sister's house come into view and directed Mort to what driveway was Kate's. "I really appreciate everything you did for me, Mr. Rainey."

"Not a problem, really."

Anna opened the door just as she saw Kate come flying out of the screened in porch, bathrobe flying and cordless phone in her hand. "Good night, Mr. Rainey."

"Good night, Anna."

She shut to door and heard the crunch of gravel as he backed out of the driveway. Kate had a steady stream of questions coming out of her mouth so fast Anna couldn't keep them all straight. She held her hands up to slow her older sister down.

"I'm alright, Kate."

"Where'd you go? Were you sleepwalking again? I knew I shouldn't have let you go to bed that early. Who was that?"

"Kate!" Anna grabbed a hold of her sister's shoulders. "I was sleepwalking but I'm sure it had nothing to do with what time I went to bed. I ended up on Morton Rainey's property and he brought me home. OK?"

Kate seemed to process what her sister had told her and then took notice of her strange wardrobe. "Why are you wearing different clothes?"

Anna sighed. She wanted to keep that particular detail from her sister but didn't have any such luck. "I, uh, kind of fell into the lake."

"What!"

"I'm fine, don't worry. Look, let's go to bed."

Kate took a couple calming breaths before loosing her grip on the telephone. "Fine, but I don't want you to step foot on that man's property again." Unexpectedly, Kate pulled Anna into a firm hug. "I might not have ever seen you again."

"Well, I do have to go back tomorrow."

"What? No."

Anna gave her sister a crooked grin. "I have to return his clothes, don't I?"

"We'll mail them."

"Kate," Anna sighed in exasperation before heading into the house. A sense of weariness settled over her as she climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom. She was aware of Kate following her, trying to come up with something new to fuss over with her but thankfully she didn't. Anna threw a whispered "good night" over her shoulder before closing her bedroom door.

If Anna hadn't been afraid of seeing strange people in strange places, then the man standing in the corner of her bedroom would have frightened her. Instead, his presence merely startled her but after feeling the chill in the air, she realized another ghost of Tashmore Lake had found her.

"I'm very tired," she told him, "perhaps you could come back tomorrow."

He tipped his black felt hat to her. "That'll be just fine," he said in a strong Southern drawl. Anna pulled the covers up around her neck and settled into the warmth of her sheets.

"What's your name?" she asked through a yawn, sleep already clouding her mind when he answered.

"My name is John Shooter, ma'am. I'll see you tomorrow then."