Thanks again!! Hope you enjoy! Mac

Chapter 7

It's odd how your life can change so much in one day and you can still wake up the next feeling totally refreshed. Because that is how I feel when I get up the next day. Not petrified that someone wants to kill me. But just… refreshed. Relaxed. Well-rested. And I never feel this way in the morning. Everyone knows this simple fact; I am not a morning person.

I throw on some clothes, put a comb through my hair in an effort to make sense of the 'do that seems to have developed from going to sleep with wet hair, and head downstairs. Spotting no one, I grab a pop tart from the cabinet and head out the door, tip-toeing past Cooper's room, just in case he is home.

I close the door behind me and turn toward the three locks. One. Two. Th—

"And just where do you think you're going?"

I jump, turning around only to come face-to-face with none other than Cooper himself. "You scared me!" I say.

"Sorry," he says, though he doesn't look too sorry. He's smiling actually. He has a certain glint in his eyes; one that I usually catch when he's playfully making fun of me. One that's there when we're taking a walk with Lucy on a cool night, having a great conversation…

… one that I haven't seen much of lately.

I mean, we've been arguing lately. Then we make up, but it's still just so serious between us! And then last night, there was plenty of emotion. Despite the fear, the emotion part of the evening was actually nice. Really nice. So lately, there's just not been much in the way of a glint in the eyes or smiles shared between us.

"It's fine," I say, in response to the whole scaring me thing. "You shouldn't sneak up on a girl that's been threatened, though. Didn't your mom ever teach you manners?"

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans slightly against the doorframe. "I guess she left the part about being threatened out of it," he says. "So, you didn't answer me. Where are you off to in such a hurry? I left the house about barely a half hour ago and you were still in bed."

"Just going to work. It is Thursday. Last I checked, that means I go to work."

"Well, not today," he says.

"Cooper, seriously, I have things to do! I can't let some sicko that might just be trying to get a rise out of me anyway rule my life. I mean, is this threat worth my job? Really?"

"This particular job? Possibly."

There it is again. He's smiling.

"And why's that?"

Now I'm smiling – well, more like smirking.

"It's proven to be life-threatening on a few occasions, for one thing. And I think you could easily have a better job, if you wanted."

"Well I like it," I say. "I have friends there, and a life, respect—"

"Okay, okay," he says, putting a hand up to stop my defense, although he's still smiling. "We'll fight this battle another day. For now, we have better things we could be doing."

"Like going to work," I say, trying to pass him.

He grabs my elbow – lightly – and I feel electricity course through me. Oh, this man. Why does he have this effect on me? It's embarrassing being a twenty-eight year old woman with eighth grade hormones.

"Like going to the police station," he says softly, enticingly. Like going to the police station is like going to the park and having a picnic or something.

"The police station? That's a great idea!" I say sarcastically. "Should we march in there and ask if they've opened up a Potential Homicide division? Because I really don't see how going there will help anything."

He tilts his head, fixing me with a knowing look. "Heather," he says, feigning impatience.

"Fine. But I do want to stop by work later. I have to let Magda know I'm okay."

"She has a phone."

"Well, I want to show her how okay I am," I say. "And…"

He stops smiling and the glint in his eyes is replaced with a curious, skeptical, suspicious look. "What?"

"… well… I should go and talk to Tad. He was really nervous last night. I kind of just disappeared on him."

"About that," he says. "You never did tell me why you left last night." He furrows his brows, as that look of concern I'm becoming so familiar with flits across his expression. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing much," I lie. "But I really should talk to him, Coop. He is my –"

I can't say it. I mean, was Tad ever really my boyfriend? No. It's simple. He was the rebound guy. The guy that I had to date to have a chance with Cooper. I don't think I even have a chance with Cooper, or that I ever did. But I do know one thing. I'm just not in the mood to date someone when my heart's not in it. It's not fair to anyone.

"—boyfriend?"

Cooper says the word I can't say. I look at him, curiously. There's something about the way he said that word; something about the way he's looking at me now.

Before I can discover why he looks different, it's gone. That… that look. It was just there! But now… now the mask is back. The great, unreadable, almost expressionless, mysterious mask that Cooper wears, that keeps me from ever knowing anything for sure where he's concerned.

"Shall we?" I ask, walking past him.

He says nothing, but strides alongside me.

We arrive at the police station ten minutes later. I recognize this place too well. Maybe I should seek out different work. I mean, really, working in a residence hall shouldn't have a girl so completely familiar with the local PD.

"Oh, god, it's you."

I turn and see Detective Canavan, holding a clipboard, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Who died?"

"No one," I say, defensively. Then I add, "yet."

Cooper shoots me a look at that and I shrug innocently. It only seems fair to warn Canavan there could be a death soon. It's what I do best.

"We're here to see Barrett," Cooper tells Canavan, and the good detective doesn't even hide his look of relief that I'm not here to torture him with my conspiracy theories (which always turn out to be true, but whatever).

"Hang on," he says, disappearing around a corner.

I look around at the smoky front office and suppress a chill. These places freak me out. The last few times I'd been there, I'd been too much in shock and worried about my residents on top of that to really take note of the sleezes that hung out there, the creeps that stare for too long, and the general coldness of it all.

I feel a hand on my back and look up, seeing Cooper standing close to me – protectively close – looking down at me with the expression of a caring friend. He doesn't mask that look. And I appreciate it.

"Cartwright, what the hell are you doing here?"

A man that looks vaguely familiar to me walks up to Cooper and me and shakes Cooper's hand.

"Hey, Barrett," Cooper says. "Nice to see you too," he jokes. "Do you remember Heather –"

"Wells," he cuts him off, staring at me, mouth open. "Heather Wells, teen star. Well, of course. It's how we met, after all," he says to Cooper.

And then I remember. He was the cop on my case. Duh! Who else would Cooper be taking me to see?

"Although, I'm not sure I was supposed to mention that," Barrett says sheepishly to Cooper.

"It's okay," Cooper says. "I've told her about my investigation."

"Oh," Barrett says, still staring at me. Then he looks at Cooper. "Oh!" he says, coming to some kind of personal epiphany. "You two finally –"

"—No," Cooper says, cutting him off. "Can, uh, can we talk to you privately?"

I follow Cooper as Barrett leads us toward his office, the dejected feeling at the way he said 'no' – so quickly – making my heart sort of ache. Because I can guess at what Barrett may have been getting at, with his epiphany-like "oh". He thought we'd gotten together.

I look at Cooper. Why would this guy think that at all, though? Cooper saw me – I was realizing more and more with each passing day – as a little sister. Nothing more.

"I thought you never wanted Miss Wells to know about that investigation," Barrett says, closing the door to his office.

"Well there's reason for her to know now," Cooper says.

Neither men look at me, so I sit down, feeling awkward. If there's one thing I hate, it's when people talk about you in front of you, and never acknowledge you. You might as well be a bug on the wall, spying on a private conversation! It feels that way, anyway.

"And what's the reason?" Barrett asks, walking to the other side of his desk and taking a seat himself.

"Well—" Cooper begins.

"Hi," I say, finally, impatiently, waving a hand. The two men look down at me, as if just noticing my presence. And that's kind of annoying. I mean, I could be at work right now, if they'd prefer to carry on as if I don't exist. But Cooper dragged me here. He told me I couldn't. Go to work, I mean. "So, do I get to chime in here? Or can I go?"

"Sorry," Cooper says, taking the seat beside me. "Heather, Barrett worked on your case ten years ago."

"I remember," I say. "Well, sort of." I look at Barrett. "Sorry. It was kind of a stressful time for me, what with the groping and humiliation, nervous breakdown and threat on my life."

"I understand," the older man says. He must be getting close to retirement now. He has kind, sort of crinkly eyes. I do remember feeling safe talking to him when this had all transpired the first time around. "So, why the sudden interest in a case that's been closed for years?"

Cooper places the note down before Barrett. The new note. Barrett takes a moment to look at it and read it.

I look around his office, nervously. I look at his trophies. I gaze at a NASCAR calendar hanging on the wall, realizing that someone forgot to flip it forward this month. I see Barrett's family photos. Nice-looking bunch. Lots of family members…

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ears and exhale. Who am I trying to kid? I can put on a tough face, but… yeah, I'm scared. Nothing in Barrett's office can take my mind off of this whole thing, and it's just… it's so unreal.

I mean, why am I sitting in a detective's office when I should be at work? Why is someone after me? Honestly, what have I really done to deserve any of this? I pay my taxes on time, I totally practice forgiveness (I mean, come on, I still talk to my mother), I'm nice to animals and most people, and always tip well. That reminds me; when this is all over, I totally have to go back to Dinah's Diner and give Betsy a great tip.

I feel Cooper's hand on my back again and look at him. He smiles sympathetically at me, but fixes me with a look that seems like he's trying to will some of his strength to me. He turns his attention, reluctantly, to Barrett.

"Seems like the same guy to me. To us," he corrects himself, gesturing towards me. I can hear a seething tone underlying his calm statement that this new stalker could be the same as the old creep.

"God, Cartwright, this was a long time ago. I can't tell," Barrett says. "Hang on. Let me grab the file."

He leaves the office and Cooper looks at me.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine," I lie. Then I shake my head. I'm sick of lying to Cooper. "Well, less than fine, I guess. This whole thing sucks."

He laughs at my choice of words. "It does," he agrees. "But it'll be over soon."

"You don't know that, Coop. You guys looked into this back then, and you had a lot more to go on. You didn't get him then." I try not to look like this bothers me. But it does. Last time, I was young. I was able to brush the whole thing off and move on.

This time? I don't think I can. I can't move forward if this guy disappears again, not knowing when he'll decide to suddenly up and stalk me again.

"That was my fault," Cooper says.

I look up at him, confused. He looks… well, kind of tormented. Now it's my turn to be concerned.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I thought I could handle that, that… " He trails off and puts a hand through his hair. "I thought I could get him and handle him. I did everything wrong. If I'd immediately called for backup, we'd have gotten him then. He wouldn't have gotten away that night."

"You probably kept him from kidnapping me. And then he did disappear for a whole decade," I say, trying to be helpful.

He shakes his head, clearly back in that night. "Man, when I ever realized his plan was to kidnap you… I just wanted to get my hands on him. I wanted to hurt him. And I wanted it badly enough that I let the emotions rule me. I didn't use my head. I got in over my head and he got the upper hand."

"You said he knocked you out," I say, softly. "What happened? Were you okay?"

"I was fine. I came to, knowing I messed up, and panicking that he'd gotten to you."

"Well he hadn't."

"He had, though. You just had lots of bodyguards. They saved you that night. Not me."

"God, it's all so jumbled in my mind," I say, touching my forehead. Remembering all these moments honestly kind of hurts. Ten years of blocking something out, it's almost impossible to remember any of it! "I remember him grabbing me, and pulling me, saying I was his and we'd now be together or some totally ridiculous stuff like that, and then like ten guys pulled me away. And poof. Gone. He was nowhere to be seen, I guess."

I look at Cooper. He is staring down at the new note, and I can see anger and regret all over his face.

"Coop, stop looking like that. This was not your fault by any means. If you hadn't gotten involved with the investigation, he might've gotten me that night."

"Maybe. But if this guy now is the same guy, then… well, this wouldn't be happening to you right now," he says quietly.

"Nothing's happening to me," I say. "Some guy's made a few passing threats. It happens." I shrug nonchalantly. And hey, that was true. Things like this do happen.

Okay, so they happen to me. But still!

Cooper looks at me and for a moment, I see his mask fall away. I can see some of… some of the things he keeps so carefully hidden, and it makes my heart swell! He cares about me, possibly more than I know. And if anything happens to me this time, he won't forgive himself. I can't let that happen. He's too nice to live a sad life full of regrets. I have to keep myself safe, and get this guy put behind bars at the same time.

In my experience, those two things do not go hand-in-hand. I'll need a plan.

The door opens and Barrett walks back in, a big manila envelope full of papers in his hands. The envelope looks a bit like the one Cooper and I had been looking through last night.

"Okay, from what I can see, there are a few similarities here in his letters."

He sits down and looks all-business. He slides some reading glasses up his nose with his index finger, studying a few of the old notes at once.

"He consistently called you his one and only. His love. He usually referenced that blue skirt you wore on an album cover. And he often made references to the song 'Sugar Rush'."

He studies the new letter once again. "Just basing it on patterns, I'd agree that it does seem like the same guy."

I look at Cooper, and his jaw is clenched. He already knew it was the same guy. Why does he seem mad now, hearing the detective say it?

Probably, I realize, he's still kicking himself because he didn't get him that night. But why can't he get that that's not his fault?

I make a bold decision and touch his hand with mine. My hand is cold, I realize, as soon as it comes into contact with his big, soft and warm one. He looks down at my hand, surprised to see it holding his own and he looks at me.

I smile, reassuringly, because honestly? I'm not touching his hands because deep down I love him and someday hope to rip his clothes off with my teeth. Right now all that matters is this. He's one of my best friends. He cares about me tremendously – so much more than I had ever known or thought – and he's kind of scared right now. For me. Pissed at some faceless stranger and his scary threats. Because this man could hurt me. Cooper needs me, and it's the only way I can think of to let him know I'm there.

He squeezes my hand back in gratitude and quickly runs a thumb over the top of it, softly. Gently. But then he stops doing that, as if realizing I might read it the wrong way (which, okay, for a moment I totally did). But he doesn't move his hand away. He doesn't put his wall back up or his mask back on.

That's something, anyway.

"When did this note come?" Barrett asks.

"Yesterday afternoon. I received it at work," I say.

"He knows where you work? Okay, well until this is all worked out, you shouldn't go back there."

I open my mouth to argue, as Cooper shoots me a triumphant look. I narrow my eyes playfully in his direction.

"He also knows her cell number," Cooper adds. "He called her two nights ago."

"What did he say?" Barrett asks, as he's writing down the latest about the phone call.

"That I was next," I say.

"For what?" Barrett asks, not looking up.

"Death, I guess. He was sort of referencing a death I witnessed in the pool at Fitness World."

" I heard about that guy. Strange situation. And… you witnessed that?" Barrett asks, now looking right at me. "You sure do have a way of finding trouble, honey. Canavan's told me about some of the things you wound up in the middle of last year."

"I'm not a troublemaker," I say defensively. "These situations sort of find me. Believe me, I don't go looking for them."

"You don't stay out of them, either," Cooper says, laughing slightly.

"Well I can't help it," I say, smirking at Cooper for the second time today. "My roommate's a detective and makes it look so fun!"

"Roommate, huh?" Barrett asks. "That's a shame."

"Why did you say that the guy drowning at Fitness World was a strange situation?" Cooper asks quickly, before I can ask Barrett why my being roomies with Cooper is a shame.

"He was an athlete, for one thing. He'd been a swimmer for about ten years. People like that don't just drown."

"What else?" I ask. Because it seems like there is. Something else, I mean.

"Well…" he trails off. "Actually, this might be something, given the phone call you just told me about." He touches his intercom button. "Rosie, get me the file on the Fitness World drowning, please."

"What is it?" Cooper asks.

"The guy was talking to some acquaintances before going into the locker room to change for the pool. In their statements, they did mention that he was really excited to be at the gym that day because someone who used to be famous was in there. Someone he always thought was, um… hot. Someone he was hoping to meet."

I blush, hoping that maybe Debbie Gibson or Tiffany were working out at Fitness World that day too. It's awkward hearing people talk about how hot you were when you were sixteen-years-old or so in front of the guy you like and a total stranger.

A woman walks in and places the file on Barrett's desk, excusing herself quickly. He sifts through the file.

"Yeah. Two different guys said he wanted to meet some former famous person and thought if they could meet they'd fall in love. Sounds like your stalker is a jealous man. Although, that's your typical stalker, honey. They're possessive. They think you are theirs, and they stomp on anyone to make sure of it."

Tears spring to my eyes and I feel a hard pang in my chest. "I knew it," I whisper, my voice choked. I'd been suspecting this all along, but now I felt like I knew it for sure. And it hurt. It really hurt.

"Heather?" Cooper says, fixing me with one of his looks. Caring and concerned.

"An innocent man was killed… because of me."

Cooper squeezes my hand. The hand I had put there to support him, he was now using to show me that he's there… always there. For me. Right there. Supporting me.

"You didn't do anything," he says.

Well, that's not totally true, I think to myself. I went to the gym. I never go to the gym. Clearly gyms are not the place for me. I fall off treadmills at gyms and get people killed. You won't see me making that mistake ever again. Of going to the gym, I mean. Tad can just kiss my –

Kiss my…

"Heather, what's wrong?" Cooper says.

But I can't look at him. I can't look at anything. All I can think about is how my stalker knew my phone number, knew where I worked, and knew I'd be at the gym. He was the jealous type, clearly, killing someone for wanting to meet me… kind of like a jealous…

… boyfriend.

"Oh my god."