Thursday March 23

Morning

Careful to avoid knocking more mud from his boots onto the freshly mopped floor of the Double R Diner, Cooper pulled a few bills out of his wallet and set them on the worn Formica beside the cash register before digging in his pocket for the rest of what he owed for the coffees and donuts. Four coffees...what is that, seventy-five cents? a dollar?...plus the donuts…a dozen of them, twenty five cents each…add in the gratuity…

He nodded to himself. Ten dollars was more than adequate. Far more than adequate, if he was being honest. But he had never been in the business of shortchanging service staff, especially not when he relied on them for the best coffee and pie he'd ever tasted. Satisfied, he stood there, waiting patiently for Annie to bring out his order. Bobby Briggs walked out from the other side of the lunch counter, talking to Shelly, and Cooper deliberately tuned them out; an argument between two people was not something he wanted to accidentally eavesdrop on. He focused instead on the coins, the bills, the rhythmic hum of the coffee machine, the loud oscillations of a fan blowing into the kitchen on the short order cook standing behind the order window.

He thought about Annie, and a genuine smile crossed his face. He was already looking forward to their nature study and had a half dozen places in mind—Whitetail Falls to observe the mosses and ferns that had miraculously managed to root themselves in the rocky terrain; Gazebo Park to watch the family of Canada geese that had begun nesting near the gazebo in Upper Twin Park; maybe a boat ride on the lake to really enjoy the warm promise of spring that lingered in the air, even now, despite the morning chill that lingered and pushed itself a little too close to the noon hour for anyone's liking.

Shelly sighed and Cooper hesitated before deciding not to acknowledge it; he knew attention-seeking when he heard it. She pushed a few buttons on the till, murmuring to herself.

"What is all this sweet work worth if thou kiss not me…"

Suddenly Cooper's head snapped up. He studied the petite waitress facing him, her eyes cast down at the cash drawer.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

Her eyes shot up to meet his, but her surprise at being overheard turned quickly to nonchalance. "Oh, it was just an anonymous poem someone sent me," she told him.

Cooper felt his stomach drop. "Shelly, I need to see this poem immediately."

A look of confusion crossed her face, but she agreed, reaching under the counter for her purse and pulling a folded scrap of paper out from within the bag.

"It was in three pieces," she said, handing him her third. "We each got a piece: Donna, Audrey, and me."

Cooper took the paper in his hands and unfolded it, his eyes poring over the uneven writing, scrawled in heavy pencil, and the truncated lines filling the page. He could fill the missing words in without thinking. He knew it by heart, had known it for years. Instantly, he was gutted.

"I need to keep this."

Shelly smiled. "Okay."

"Thank you."

He pocketed the paper as Annie rounded the counter and brought him the box of donuts and the coffees. She recited the order back to him, but he was distant, hearing her voice as if through water.

With barely any acknowledgement, he turned and made his way to the door.

"Agent Cooper?"

He spun again to look at Annie. "Yes?"

"Um…this afternoon?" she asked.

He had forgotten entirely. He tried to push his concerns away as he spoke—"I'll meet you right here, four o'clock sharp."—but it was for naught. As he pushed his way through the door and out into the bright and brisk mid-morning mountain air, he was clouded as ever.

Sheriff Truman, leaning against the hood of the Jeep, pounced on the coffee. "Thanks, Coop."

Cooper stared at a spot two feet in front of him, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to process what had happened.

"Sure," he muttered.

That afternoon…

"It's a poem, Harry," Cooper said. He stood a few feet in front of Sheriff Truman's desk, coffee in hand, while the sheriff perused the scrap of paper. "Torn into thirds. Sent to Shelly Johnson, Audrey Horne, and Donna Hayward. From Windom Earle."

Truman's face registered the same shock that Cooper's had upon reading the poem in front of Shelly earlier that day.

"You mean Earle's contacted all three girls?"

Cooper nodded, feeling the familiar tumble in his lower stomach as he imagined Audrey receiving the poem. "What do you know about poetry?" she'd asked him, and he'd been so callous as to brush it off with a passive-aggressive question about her love life, something which he had no business concerning himself with anymore.

She was trying to talk to you about this, Cooper realized suddenly. She was worried, or at least very curious, and you pushed her away yet again…

Protective instincts blazed to life within him as his guilt over her—and now Donna's and Shelly's—involvement in yet another one of his messes reached fever pitch. His hand shook and he saw red behind his eyelids.

"See the mountains kiss high heaven, and the waves clasp one another...no sister flower would be forgiven if it disdained its brother."

Truman smiled, as if in appreciation. But Cooper shook his head: "It's a poem I once sent to Caroline. I hope it's nothing more than a taunt, Harry. Earle takes perverse pride in his ability to insinuate himself into innocent lives."

Truman needed no more convincing. "Let's talk to the girls as soon as we can. See what they remember."

I couldn't agree more, Cooper thought as Hawk stepped into the office and handed off Donna's copy. Audrey, it seemed was still in Seattle until the following day. Cooper pieced the papers together, and with alarming clarity, hit upon something extraordinary.

"Hawk!" he said. "Could you please bring me Leo Johnson's arrest report?"