COOPER: Thursday, March 23. 10:44 PM. Diane, the pieces of this puzzle are scattered before me like ducks on a lake. I don't know what the final picture will be, and I only have a few pieces locked in by which to move ahead. One thing is for certain: Windom Earle is ramping up. I believe he is working with Leo Johnson—who, you'll remember, has not been seen since attacking his wife in the kitchen of their home and taking off into the woods some time ago. Together, they have conspired to lure Donna Hayward, Shelly Johnson, and Audrey Horne into a web of immense danger. A web which I am not sure I can easily untangle. (Pause) In moments like this, I'm reminded of how dear life is, and how short, how easily it is to lose sight of what is truly important to each of us as we traverse this mortal coil. (Pause) Keeping Audrey at a distance seems to have been for naught, as it appears to even the most casual observer that she, along with Donna and Shelly, are being targeted by Earle in spite of my efforts. But why? To distract me? To render me vulnerable? (Long pause) Andy has been hard at work deciphering the Owl Cave petroglyph, with the help of Major Briggs, who has also agreed to provide us with information about Earle's involvement in Project Bluebook. Diane, whatever Windom Earle's involvement in this, I think the lynchpin will be found in the evidence Major Briggs brings us. (Pause) But Diane, if I can be honest with you for a moment, I'm filled with the kind of gut-wrenching fear that festers in the bottom of your soul until it consumes you utterly. (Yawn) Ducks on a lake, Diane…I had a lovely rendezvous with Annie Blackburn today. We went boating. I never imagined it was possible to feel such romantic highs and fearful lows in the span of one six hour period, and yet here I am. (Another yawn) I don't imagine I'll find much rest tonight, but I have to give it the old college try. In the meantime, I've found space for solitude and reflection in the warmest corner of the Great Northern. I have a nightcap in my hand—well, warm milk anyway, not too hot, just the way I like it—and a crackling fire at my feet. Perhaps you can hear it burning. So I'll sign off here, for now…
Cooper took a swig from his glass as he became acutely aware of someone's presence filling the space in the empty chair beside him. He tried his best to focus on the fire, not daring to intrude.
"Love is hell."
The stranger took a sip from his highball glass, and Cooper chanced a glance; it was John Justice Wheeler, in all his dashing glory. Cooper wasn't sure what to make of this. "Sorry?" he asked.
"Love?" Wheeler shrugged. "It's hell."
Cooper tried not to be too smug about it. But the flutter of a thought settled down and took root in his heart as he considered, briefly, that perhaps there was trouble in the paradise Audrey had found with this cowboy traveler friend of her father's.
"The Hindus say love is a ladder to heaven," Cooper began, struggling to keep the haughtiness from his voice.
Wheeler considered, briefly giving over to the philosophical wisdom of the East before making a face. "But wait a minute: the Hindus are also known to take hikes on hot coals for recreational purposes."
Cooper shook his head. "Self-discipline," he corrected.
"Self-discipline and love? That's a bad match," Wheeler opined.
"Earthly love?"
"What other kind is there?"
Cooper smiled. "When you're in it, no other."
Wheeler seemed to land upon an idea; his voice caught in his throat, sounding something like pain, and Cooper—in spite of himself—related. "It hits ya like an 18-wheeler, doesn't it? And there's no relief."
"Makes you feel more alive."
"Makes you feel more of everything. Pain included."
"Especially pain."
Wheeler paused. "I can't stop thinking about her."
Cooper knew the feeling acutely. "Sounds like you've got a pretty serious case."
Wheeler sighed and cast Cooper a knowing glance. "Brother, I'm roped, tied, and branded."
Hopeful, probing, Cooper dangled his lure. "She feel the same way?"
Wheeler gulped back another mouthful. Bourbon. Cowboy. Figures, Cooper thought ruefully as the dark-eyed Lothario grinned. "Here's hoping." He knocked back another gulp from his shot glass. "How about you? Are you on the critical list too?"
"It feels like someone's taking a crowbar to my heart," Cooper said, without a word of a lie.
"That's not bad," Wheeler gaped.
"No," was Cooper's reply. "I think it's been locked away long enough."
"That's good."
"Here's hoping."
"Here's to you," Wheeler offered his glass, and Cooper reached out, clinking the edges together and taking a gulp as the bellman on duty brought over a telegram for Wheeler. Cooper politely disengaged, but was drawn back in by the muttered "Damn!" Wheeler offered next. He called the bellman back to inform him of his own intention to check out, and politely excused himself from the conversation with a firm but hurried shake of Cooper's hand.
Bizarre, Cooper thought as he took another gulp from his glass before seeing the bellman return, another slip of paper in his hand.
"Agent Cooper?"
"Yes."
"A message for you, too."
Cooper took the paper, his eyes widening as he read the lines scribbled by the concierge. He handed his half-finished glass of milk to the bellman and grabbed his coat. "Would you have the valet bring my car around to the front?" he asked.
"Sure thing," the young man replied, as Cooper nodded, smiled, and strode toward the front door.
Without a second thought, as he swung his arms through his sleeves, he grabbed his recorder.
"Diane, suspicious activity down at the gazebo. I'm on my way to meet Sheriff Truman as we speak…"
Friday, March 24
Morning
COOPER: Diane, we may have had a break in our investigation, although how much of a break is unclear at best. The Project Bluebook files that you so helpfully had delivered, along with the corresponding military records, have led to the discovery of what I believe are Windom Earle's true intentions: he's looking for The Black Lodge. Diane, I was wrong all along to believe that he was after me. It's more than that, more than about Caroline and what happened in Pittsburgh. (Pause) It's still a dangerous game, and Earle is playing off the board now. He's taken another pawn, this time without telling us his move. We need to figure out what the petroglyph means, why Earle was so interested in it, and what he means by sending those poem fragments to Shelly, Donna, and…and Audrey…
Later that day…
Cooper stood up from the card table in the smallest interrogation room to be found in the Twin Peaks Sheriff Department, scraping his chair across the floor and signalling the end of the meeting. On his right, Donna stood up quickly and clutched her purse to her chest as she left the room. Shelly smiled at Cooper and thanked him softly before running after her.
He carefully folded the three scraps of paper and held them in his hands, and noted that they were shaking. Audrey pushed her own chair back and proceeded to the door.
"Audrey, can you wait just a minute?"
She flicked her eyebrows in mild surprise, following it with an affected sigh. "I do have a rather busy day. I've just gotten back from Seattle and—"
Cooper tried to shrug off her avoidance tactics by swallowing hard past the lump in his throat. "Audrey—the other night at the bar…?"
Audrey shrugged, but he could see her bristle against the accusation that she had hid something from him. "I didn't think anything of it. Boys send girls poems all the time in high school, you know."
Cooper nodded. "In three pieces? To three different girls? With cryptic rendezvous instructions?"
Audrey's eyes flashed. "Are you mad at me or something? I tried to tell you."
"No…no, of course not," Cooper shook his head, leaning imperceptibly closer to her, his hands on the table top. "Audrey, I—I'm very concerned."
"Why?" she challenged. "You think the only reason someone could possibly have to send me a love poem is because they want to hurt me?"
"I don't know. That's the part that worries me."
She scoffed. "I don't understand."
Cooper looked down at his hands, splayed out against the tabletop. "Audrey, I think this is the work of my former partner, Windom Earle."
Audrey's eyes widened at the mention of his name. "The crazy guy?"
Cooper nodded. "One and the same."
Audrey shivered, drawing her arms across her middle and clutching at her sweater on either side of her. "Agent Cooper, I—"
He reached over and laid a hand on her arm. "You trusted me once."
She nodded. "I do, still."
"Then you have to believe me when I say that I will not let anything happen to you," he said, pressing his hand into her arm for reassurance. "On my badge, my oath as an agent of the FBI…on my honour, Audrey, I swear to you that nothing will happen."
She nodded quickly.
Cooper ran his thumb over her arm. But his rational mind won over and he stopped just short of uttering the words that would put her in an even more awkward position than he already had. Instead, he pulled his hand back. Imperceptibly, Audrey's posture stiffened.
"Jack is a good person," she said suddenly, her voice inflected and dusted with intonations that he knew she was putting on. "Tall, dark, and handsome. Isn't that what I said I always wanted?" she smiled, but it was faraway, sad. "I-I'm falling for him." She nodded, more forcibly than she needed to, convincing herself of the veracity of her claim.
Cooper wasn't sure what to do with the information. But his heart sank as he imagined her kissing that man—or any man. Whether or not what she said was true, they were words calculated and delivered to elicit this response; that much he knew. And he didn't begrudge her for it. He'd kept her at arm's length; now it was his turn to be kept from her.
It's your own doing, he scolded himself. You can't gripe about things you created…
With a firm nod, Cooper stood up to his full height and shoved his hands into his pockets, dismissing her comment by not acknowledging it at all. "You'll check in with us at nine AM and again at nine PM?"
Audrey nodded, her head bobbing, hair swaying. She still had her arms encircling her midsection as she turned her eyes away and walked out of the room.