You have no idea how much I love the feedback I've received. I swear, you're all too nice!!! I really appreciate it! Enjoy the next part!!!! --MAC

Chapter 8

"Heather."

I hear Cooper call my name, and I know, on some subconscious level, that he's sitting right next to me. I even think we're holding hands. I squeeze my hand to check. Yup. We're holding hands. But he sounds far away. And I'm beginning to see stars. I feel lightheaded.

"Heather."

He sounds anxious now. If I had to guess, he's looking at me, as I sit pale as a ghost staring stupidly at nothing. But… how can I help it? I mean, Tad, my boyfriend… he could very well be my stalker! Well, possibly. I think. Okay, so I can't be sure. I really don't remember much about the whole fiasco from ten years ago. I was young. And I'm more sure than ever now that I've blocked most of it out anyway. I'm sure any good therapist would agree.

There is one thing I do remember, of course. Some guy grabbed me, all those years ago, groped me. On two different occasions! After that infamous Mall of America performance and then again the night he tried to kidnap me. This guy whispered things. Said I'd be his someday. He wrote me letters talking about how I'd be his. How he'd take me away. How we'd really, um… be together. It was disgusting and it had scared me to no end.

If this guy is Tad…

… then I've kissed him. Hugged him. He's held me. I've slept next to him.

Oh god. I've willingly stuck my tongue down his throat!

But I can't help but think that it makes sense. Tad knows where I work; it's how I met him! He knows my cell phone number. And… and he was there, at Fitness World. When that innocent man died.

I walked into the pool area, and the dead guy was in Tad's arms!

Oh god. I feel like I'm going to be sick.

I hear that guy talking. Oh, right, Barrett. I hear Cooper calling my name, feel him squeezing my hand.

He touches my cheek, which is when I realize that I'm crying. Just a little. He's wiped a tear. I look at him. Cooper.

"Heather, what's wrong?" he asks and I can hear an impatient desperation in his voice. "You're gone white as a sheet."

"I haven't had a chance to work on my tan much these days," I mutter. My attempt at humor to break the tension in the room. Cooper doesn't smile, though he seems relieved anyway that I have found my voice and my sense of humor – even if I am forcing it.

I look around. "Where…"

"Barrett went to get you a glass of water. Please, tell me what's going on. Do you… do you have an idea who it is?"

I nod nervously, looking at some space between us. But then I shake my head "no". Because, I really am not sure. I could just be insane. Let's face it, with my track record, it's always a possibility.

Tad could be as normal as he seems. And I really don't remember my stalker being such a hottie.

"I… I don't know," I stammer. "I just thought… but then, no, it can't…"

"Heather."

I look at him and he holds my gaze steady. He stares at me pleadingly. "Tell me. Please."

"Um… well… I think it could possibly—"

The door opens and Barrett walks in. "Oh, good, she's talking. That's a good sign. Here you go, honey," he says, holding a glass of water towards me. Cooper takes the water and hands it to me, holding my shaking hands so I don't spill as I take a careful sip.

I close my eyes as the refreshing cool water washes away the bad feelings, just for a moment. Then I look at Barrett.

"Okay, honey, so it seems that our talk has triggered something for you. So let's have it."

"Um."

That's all I can manage at the moment. I stare down at my cup until Cooper takes my hand again.

Once again, I'm too nervous, too upset to even enjoy it. I love the feel of his hand touching mine, don't get me wrong. But at the moment, the touch doesn't make me think about potential wedding bells. It just… it makes me feel safe. Wonderfully protected and safe. Like I felt last night when I crawled into bed.

The way Cooper's so often made me feel. Since I've known him.

I may have not been aware he investigated my case back then. But even then, I felt safe whenever he was around. Oh, why did I waste so much time on his brother?

"Heather?" Cooper prompts.

I look back up at him. I really don't want to admit this. That's all I need; for Cooper to see what bad taste I have in men. He'll never date me now! If he even ever thought about dating me at all, that is. I mean, he didn't want to be my rebound guy. I sincerely doubt he'll want to be the follow-up guy to the potentially murdering psycho I am sort of dating now.

He'll probably think I need a rebound for my rebound, since it was such a colossal disaster, what with the guy possibly wanting to kill me or whatever. And that – Cooper not wanting to date me because of my really bad taste – just makes this whole thing so much worse than it already is. God, who even thought that was possible? This getting any worse, I mean.

Tad could be innocent of course. My mind's racing and nothing's making sense, which means it really could all be in my head.

Hopefully.

"Um," I say again. "Detective, does that folder from the drowning at Fitness World list all the witnesses?" I ask. Because that's what I do. I ask questions that present me with the most passive-aggressive round-about way of not actually saying something myself.

Barrett grabs the folder. "Yeah." He opens it and flips through a few pages. "Yeah, right here. There you are, Miss Heather Wells."

"Can you read some of the other names?"

"I thought you had an idea who it was," Cooper says quietly. He seems confused by my sudden interest in the people at the gym that day.

I look at him, silently asking him to just trust me.

"Elaine Binochi, 48 years old. She walked in right after it happened."

"Who else?" I ask.

"Tad Tocco. He saw the guy drowning and tried to save him. Mrs. Binochi found the body in this guy's arms."

I look at Cooper. I can't tell what he's thinking. He's staring off into space, kind of like I was a minute ago. I can see that his mind's at work.

"Tad was there?" he eventually asks, looking at me. He looks… upset. Is he mad at me?

"Yeah. We were working out together. Why do you think I'd even be at a gym?" I ask.

He shakes his head and scoffs. "Okay, so Tad was there and you didn't tell me this in the last two days?"

"I didn't think to mention it," I say honestly.

He stares down and I can see it. The jaw-clenching I mean. Is he mad at me? What'd I do? I merely forgot to tell him something. Again. Okay, so it's a problem. My omitting things when talking to Cooper, I mean. I'm working on it!

"It's him," he says. He's so matter-of-fact. In his voice, there's no doubt. There's no question at all. It's Tad.

Oh the jaw-clenching is out of control now. He's mad. Really mad.

How can he be sure, though? I mean, sure I think my would-be boyfriend couldbe behind this. How can Cooper know for sure, though? There's no evidence. Police seem to like that kind of thing when convicting people. You know. Evidence.

"You sound sure," I say.

"You know it's him," he says, looking at me. "It's all over your face."

He shakes his head. He's looking in my direction, but not at me. And… I can see something there – in his eyes, I mean – that I've never seen before. Hatred. Pure, unadulterated anger and hatred.

It scares me. I feel responsible somehow for putting that look in his eyes. It's so not him. Cooper… he's kind and sweet. He helps people in need, like his little brother's homeless ex-girlfriend for example. He's funny. He calm and laid back.

He's not an angry man. He's not someone that hates. But… but there it is. I can see it.

"Cooper… are you … okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," I say. Very lamely I might add.

He looks at me with complete disbelief. "You're… you're sorry?" He opens his mouth to say something but closes it immediately and shakes his head. At himself, I think. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long breath. He looks like he's ready to jump out of his skin. He's make fists with his hands and he really does look ready to hit something. "This guy – the same one who did all those things, who tortured you and taunted you years ago – who got away thanks to me… is now dating you. And you're sorry."

He bends over like he's hyperventilating for a moment, but then stands up in a rush.

"We don't know it's him," I say. Because we don't.

"He knows your cell, he knows where you work, he knows your name, he was at the gym, at the pool, that day, with you. He wants to change you. You said it yourself. He wants you to be like you were then."

He's staring at a wall, but I can see him shaking his head. "I can't believe this," he says, and he sounds miserable.

"But we don't know for sure," I insist.

"That's true," Barrett says, finally chiming in. "We need that little thing called evidence, Cartwright. Kind of makes it easier for us to go after this guy."

"Can you run a search on him?" Cooper asks.

"Yeah, buddy, I'll look into this guy," Barrett says in a reassuring tone. Clearly he, like me, can see how upset Cooper is.

Cooper nods at Barrett and looks at me once again. "Heather… I'm so sorry."

"Coop, stop, you didn't do anything! It's not your fault this guy – whoever he is – got away that night. Please. Cooper. Stop beating yourself up over that."

He smiles sadly at me. He once again shakes his head at himself, at his actions from a night that happened so long ago. God, I wish I knew what he was thinking. But I don't learn what that may be because he says "excuse me" to both Barrett and me. And then he leaves.

I let out a long, low whistle. "Did he get this fired up back then over this case?" I ask Barrett.

"He was really adamant. He wanted to find that guy. He said you were his friend. But… this is different."

"Why? I mean, the way I see it, it's kind of like a sequel. If anything, it'll just be more boring than the original," I say, attempting humor.

Barrett smiles. "Honey, if this guy is our guy, the same guy I mean, and if he's also your little boyfriend, then this is very different. Let's just assume it's all true for a minute," he says.

Okay, I like this. Clearly no one said "let's just assume for a minute" to Cooper because Cooper is completely assuming already.

"Cartwright's clearly not too keen on the fact that such a sick man who's always been obsessed with you – who's also possibly now a murderer – has gotten into your circle, you life… and your bed. Just like he always said he would. Excuse my bluntness, honey. But… I know if I were Cartwright that's how I'd feel, too. And because he got so close that night and it went wrong and because you're a good friend of his, well he blames himself for it. That's why he's so mad. I can understand it."

Oh god. Of course. Cooper most likely thinks that Tad and I have been… well, intimate. I've slept there more than I've slept home lately. And if it is Tad, then…

… then Cooper thinks that the guy who once detailed all the things he would do to me actually got the opportunity to do it all, because in his mind he let him get away that night.

Oh man! Now I have guilt to add to the list of all the reasons Cooper will never want to date me! Who wants to be with someone that constantly makes you feel guilty about your actions from ten years ago?

This also means… I'm going to have to talk to Cooper. Which normally is fine of course. But I'm going to have to talk to him about something I really don't want to talk to him about. My sex life.

Oh god.

No. I can't. It's too weird.

Ugh. But I have to. I mean, Barrett's right. Cooper's seen the letters this guy has written. If he's assuming this guy is Tad – and he is assuming that it seems – then in his mind, this sicko was able to do all those things to me, by becoming, quite cleverly if you ask me, my boyfriend.

No wonder he wants to hit something! I kind of want to hit something too. Except any time I hit anything my hand bruises. It's just not my thing. Hitting things, I mean. But if I see Tad and it is him, well bruises or not, the man's getting a pretty heated show of my anger.

So I have to at least alleviate Cooper's worries. He needs to know that all we've ever really done is kiss. Make out. Nothing more than that. He has to know that. If only I knew where he went!

"Honey, Cartwright was right about one thing. This guy's guilt was all over your face. I mean, you didn't say anything for a good minute and I'm assuming his name came into your head. So something clicked. Can you tell me about it?"

"It's like Cooper said. He wants to change me. Now that I think about it, he's sort of obsessed about it. About me losing weight and picking up gigs. I walked into the pool area that day and the dead guy was in his arms. I didn't see anything more. He's got my cell phone number, of course, and the voice sounded all contorted, like there was something covering the phone and he was changing his voice so it couldn't be recognized. I mean, I guess it could've been him. He can send a letter to work, because he knows where I work. It adds up. He's constantly saying things like 'who else would call you 'babe''? Obsessive things like that, you know?"

I'm babbling, I know. I look up and see Barrett writing it all down.

"And now that I think about it," I continue, distracted, lost in thought, "I don't know anything about him. I don't know where's he's from or what he did before he started teaching at the college. I don't know anything about his parents. If he has siblings…" I trail off, sighing. "The only thing I really know about him is that he teaches and he's hot."

I really should learn in the future to discover more about someone other than their obvious hotness before sticking my tongue down their throat and calling them my boyfriend.

"God, how stupid am I," I say out loud. Even though it's really just a thought. "I mean, I'm just sitting here dating a guy I barely know. Who does that?"

I look around. "Where's Cooper?"

Barrett shrugs. "Who knows? He was pretty miffed, honey. He… well, honey, he's always had a soft spot for you. I could see it then, but you were, of course, dating his younger brother. He made us keep the whole thing – him investigating your case, that is – quiet. He didn't want anyone thinking… anything."

Right. Can't have a girl dumping her pop star boyfriend, getting her hopes up about his totally cool and hot and nice older brother.

"But yeah. He had a soft spot for you even then. And from what I can see, that's only grown more over the years."

"Well sure," I say, shrugging sadly, all hope feeling very… deflated. "He thinks of me like a little sister."

Barrett laughs and I look up at him shocked and embarrassed he'd laugh at my sad admission of what is clearly the truth about how Cooper looks at me.

"What?" I ask.

"Honey, he may see you as something, but it's not a little sister. I can assure you of that."

"How could you know that for sure?" I ask, hoping maybe he'll tell me that Cooper's opened up about a buried and undying love he has for me.

"My profession has been to watch and observe people for nearly forty years. I just know."

Well, that's hopeful. Kind of. I guess. It could go many ways, I suppose. But I'll take it.

"Okay, honey, so here's our situation."

I fix him with my most detective-like face and nod for him to continue.

"We've got nothing."

"That's reassuring," I say, my face falling.

"We aren't positive it's the same stalker from ten years ago. We've got patterns in letters. I can tell you from years of work with cases like this; that is nothing. It won't hold up in court. Second, we have no reason to drag this boyfriend of yours in for questioning."

"So, what, we wait for him to strike again? Kill again? Because, in case you don't remember, his phone call seemed to imply that I'm next. Are we waiting for that?" I ask, sarcastically.

"Oh don't be dramatic. I tell you, you kids get into showbiz at these young ages, and all the world's a stage for the rest of your lives," he says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not dramatic!" I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "I just don't exactly want to be killed. Is that unreasonable?"

"Okay, okay. I just want you to be totally aware of the realities of the situation," he says calmly.

"We've got nothing. I get it."

"Okay. For now, the plan is this: you do not go anywhere alone. You don't go to work. You don't go and see this boyfriend of yours. I will take the new evidence and run it through analysis to see if there are any parallels with other cases. I will do a check on Tad Tocco, see what his story is. Then we'll go from there."

I look down. "This isn't going to pan out," I say. "We're not going to get him. He's going to get away, or he's going to get me."

"You really think he's going to get anywhere near you with Cartwright by your side?"

I look up and see that Cooper's reentered the room. When he sees me spot him, he walks back in, hands in his pockets. He looks a little calmer, but that look in his eyes – that anger and hatred – is still there. It's more subdued. But it's not gone.

He sits beside me. "Absolutely not," he says to no one in particular, in answer to Barrett's question.

"Honey, I know it's hard, but just sit tight. We do need more than what we have right now. I'll work on it, and keep you posted the whole time."

"Okay," I say. Because what else is there to say, really?

Cooper and I leave the police department, and I immediately shield my eyes from the blazing glare of the sun. We were inside for awhile.

Cooper hasn't said anything since we left Barrett's office. It just sucks that the day had started out with such a refreshing feeling. Cooper and I had joked with each other, smirked and teased… and it's just gotten all heavy again.

I wish I wasn't such a magnet for trouble. When everything's quiet, Cooper and I have such a nice time. But that's not the reality. Basically wherever trouble is, Heather Wells is just not that far behind. It's true.

"Want a sandwich?" he asks, walking toward Joe's, which is not far from the police station.

"Sure," I say, realizing how hungry I am. We'd been there for awhile talking to Barrett and I really hadn't eaten much all day. "Actually that'd be perfect," I say, trying to lighten the mood with more positive words like 'perfect.'

The mood doesn't lighten.

We walk silently to Joe's and Cooper pulls his hand out of his pocket to open the door for me. And that's when I see it. His hand. It's… bloody.

"Coop, what happened!"

I grab his hand and look at it, touch it. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, looking down at me.

"Did you get into a fight? How did I not notice this before?"

He pulls his hand away and sticks it back in his pocket. Okay, so he's going to play that game.

"Where did you go before?" I ask, walking toward the counter at Joe's. If there's one thing about me, it's this: I don't let things go very easily. Oh, and I'm not a morning person. Okay, and I'm in love with the man I'm staring at right now, who's staring at the menu on the wall ahead of us, clearly hoping I am the type of person who, you know, lets things go.

Okay, that's three things about me.

"Cooper?"

He sighs. "I was just mad. I went outside. Do you want your usual?"

He looks down at me, as I stare up at him in shock. "You did this to yourself? Did you hit a wall or something?" I ask, looking horrified at the possibility. When he says nothing, the look worsens. "You hit a wall?" I say, practically shouting. "God, Coop, there's no reason for you to get so worked up. You don't… it doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't?"

I look up at him at that. At the way he said it.

"Can I help you?" the woman behind the counter asks.

We order our food, and I wonder frantically what he meant by that. We sit down and I take a few nervous bites of my food, not sure of what to say.

"Heather."

I look at him, the handsome man across the table from me. I've really never seen him like this. In the space of two days, he's shown me so much more of himself. These raw emotions that are so locked away all the time. Here they are.

Cooper.

He feels anger and hatred. The kind that boils inside until you want to explode. The kind I've felt before, at a few times in my life. He's protective of his friends. Of me. He's… he's human.

"Yeah?" I ask, still mesmerized by these new emotions I see in his expression, even right now.

"You want to work on a case with me, you've got it."

I smile. "Oh, that'll be a good distraction from this whole hoopla," I say, excited. "What's our case? Who did what to who? Husband and wife cheating scandal? Mother run off with pop star's money? What've we got?"

He almost smiles. I see it. He leans forward and looks at me seriously. "This case, Heather. Your case. I need your help. Because this time, he's not getting away."