COOPER: Diane, Major Briggs has disappeared. His wife has assured us that he often disappears, quite suddenly, for work-related reasons; this very well may be one of them. In any event, his disappearance had only added another unanswerable twist to the baffling tale this town is weaving. As you know, the FBI Internal Affairs investigation into the raid on One Eyed Jack's has begun, and the DEA investigation is slated to begin tomorrow. I am relieved to hear that my old friend Dennis Bryson has been assigned to the DEA case. He is scheduled to arrive today. It will no doubt be a comfort to see a friendly face amongst my accusers. (Pause; a sigh) Apart from this, there are no significant developments to report about the goings-on in this timber town but for the sake of levity, I'll fill you in. There are rumours that Nadine Hurley—a woman of considerable…fortitude—believes she's an eighteen year-old high school senior. Cheerleading tryouts are this week and she's gunning for a spot on the squad. (Soft chuckle) It also appears that Lucy is the lynchpin in a love triangle the likes of which I've never seen: on one side is Andy Brennan, a stalwart, good-hearted man if ever there was one, while on the other is a rather effete men's fashion sales clerk named Richard…Dick to his friends. (Pause; softly) It may be I'm reaching on this one, but if I were a betting man I would wager that Lucy is expecting a child, and one of those two men is the prospective father. It's a sticky wicket, Diane…Oh, and Diane, I'm sending you a hand-written letter to the editor of the Seattle Post-Dispatch, regarding the rather unfortunate, harsh, and quite undeserved critique of the Double R by one M.T. Wentz, a food critic from the big city. I have been unable to find time to type it up myself, but you of all people know and can decipher my chicken scratch. If you could transcribe and forward it for me, it would be greatly appreciated. (Pause; deep sigh) Apart from that, the only news of any import regards Miss Horne. But that can wait for another tape…
COOPER: Diane, one-thirty. Lunch at the station. Sandwiches. Ham and havarti on whole wheat, a dab of dijon mustard and a tomato slice, peach cobbler for dessert and two additional cups of coffee. May have to start thinking about cutting back, Diane. (Pause) Ham and havarti. I don't think it gets much better than that. You know, I think if I had to rank my favourite cheeses in order of preference…well, it would be an impossible task. But I do know that I would probably put havarti in the top spot. (Pause) Correction: Brie. (Pause) Or a good, sharp cheddar…or maybe a creamy Edam, sliced just-so…
COOPER: Another cup of coffee Diane. Not sure how I'm gonna sleep this one off. But, now that some time has passed, I have to say: gouda. Smoked. On toast. (Pause) And now I believe it's time to eat...
Later that evening
Cooper dried off his hair once more for good measure before hanging his towel back on the door and surveying his room—the same one he'd been staying in before his earlier departure. Before everything went pear-shaped, he thought to himself. His suitcase sat open on the bed, and he rummaged through to find clothing suitable for the wedding reception he'd been invited to moments earlier by Denise—formerly-known-as Dennis—Bryson. Cooper grinned, eager to hear the details of that story.
But, for the most part, darker forces occluded his mind. Officially sanctioned by the Bureau, under investigation by the DEA, and stripped of his law enforcement credentials, Cooper felt in limbo and powerless. Making matters infinitely worse was the arrival that afternoon of another chess move. The move—a counter to Cooper's own retaliatory salvo fired days earlier upon the receipt of Earle's opening—was accompanied by a micro cassette tape containing a mocking warning from his former partner, Windom Earle. It was something he hadn't thought about since that day. Returning with Audrey from One Eyed Jack's had been enough of a distraction from the opening of the game, and Gordon Cole's warning about Windom had mostly gone unheeded.
But now, with no official and sanctioned ability to investigate his partner or his whereabouts, or without any means to defend himself, he felt utterly adrift, waiting, it seemed, for the inevitable return.
Cooper stalked the floorboards of his suite, deep in thought for many long moments until he pulled out his cassette recorder, intent on talking his way through the confusion.
"Diane," he started. "I'll be making a quick stop at the Milford wedding downstairs this evening. I hope it will prove refreshing." He paused, turning to his suitcase and the pages of literature he'd managed to photocopy at the Twin Peaks Public Library that afternoon—from spiritualist guides and the local history books. "I had a rather interesting conversation with Deputy Hawk and Sheriff Truman about local legends, related, I think, directly to the disappearance of Major Briggs." He flipped through the pages, poring once again over diagrams and maps and highlighted sections of legendary tales that added to the information he'd been passed at the Sheriff's station. He lowered his voice reverentially. "Diane, there's an old Native American legend in this part of the state about a place called the White Lodge, full of the spirits that rule man and nature. Major Briggs mentioned this White Lodge—in fact, it was the last thing he spoke of before he disappeared. That can't be a coincidence." He paused. "The counterpart to the White Lodge is called the Black Lodge and, as the name might suggest, it is the opposite in nature to the White. Every spirit passing from this world to the next must traverse through the Black Lodge on its way to perfection. I believe the closest correlation might be Heaven for the White Lodge, and Hell for the Black. It is there, in the Black Lodge, that it is said you meet your Shadow Self. Hawk's people call this Shadow Self the 'Dweller on the Threshold.' I quite like the images that conjures," he said, pausing to consider the papers again. "Something else Hawk told me has left me puzzled and more curious than ever. He said that confronting the Black Lodge with imperfect courage will lead to the destruction of your soul. It seems a concept very near to the heart of what the Major spoke of last night. With a heart of fear, how can anyone expect true courage?" He chuckled finally, softly. "But perhaps that's a philosophical discussion for another time."
He put the recorder down and set his hands on his hips, considering the papers in front of him with a deep, unhurried sigh. "Diane, there is more here than meets the eye. But maybe I've been looking at this the wrong way. Maybe, now that my law enforcement responsibilities have been so severely curbed, I will have time to investigate this more fully from a lay person's perspective. Without paperwork, without bureaucracy, on my own time and at my own pace." He considered the revelation with a guarded smile. "I cannot lie, it is a thought that calms me greatly. Regardless, as always, I will keep you apprised of the situation."
Cooper clicked the recorder off and set it on the bedspread. With a deep-seated sigh, he pulled out a casual suit in deep navy blue, and forcibly pushed any thoughts of Earle or the investigation from his mind. Tonight, he thought to himself, we feast…