Heya... I feel guilty for abandoning my readers for so long. My real life had things happening, so I didn't get around to posting stuff here... I've had this chapter done for a while, but not proof-read and edited and all that... Hopefully some people are still interested in this story... Here you go:

xxxxxx

Dewey sighed. It had been a long night. When Sidney had approached him and alerted him of Gale's suspicion of the Sheriff, he wasn't entirely surprised. The sheriff and Gale hated each other. If the sheriff was going to accuse Gale of murder, it only fit that she'd accuse him right back. He certainly didn't agree with her accusation though. He had known the sheriff for quite some time, and felt certain he wouldn't kill anyone. He only hoped the could convince Gale of Jones's innocence, while convincing Jones of Gale's at the same time.

The sheriff had instructed Dewey to go interview Bethany's family, friends, and co-workers, to find out what was going on prior to her murder. But none of them had seen her since hours before; she was last seen leaving from work, so anyone, even her co-workers could have been responsible for her death. Bethany's co-workers in no way cleared Gale or Jones from the suspect list, even though Dewey was certain neither of them did it anyway.

Now he was sitting in his car, trying to remember if the sheriff had asked him to do anything else. As he thought, his radio squelched. He adjusted the knob in order to make out what was being said.

"Dewey here," he said into the radio, "repeat that last call please. Over."

"All deputies and Sheriff Jones need to report back to the station as soon as possible." he heard someone's voice. It sounded frantic, "...over." the voice added after a pause, as though she was so flustered she had forgotten the radio usage regulations for a moment.

Dewey started his car. This sounded serious. "Sam?" Dewey said back into the radio as he started driving toward the station. He knew it wasn't how the radio was meant to be used, but he needed to know what was going on.

"Y-yes," the voice called back, "This is deputy Samantha. I repeat, everyone back to the station. Over."

Samantha had been working with them for only one and a half years, and was still easily affected by any gruesome or emotional case. Woodsboro didn't see many serious cases, so when they did, it was a big deal for everyone, but especially for the younger cops.

"What's going on Sam?" he asked.

"I shouldn't say over the radio, sir," she persisted, "Just get down here quickly. Over."

Dewey sighed. Young cops either never followed the rules or always did. Of course, he was still pretty young himself... and Gale always complained that he followed the rules too much too, so he supposed he would be a hypocrite to be angry with Sam for refusing to tell him details over the radio.

It seemed to take ages to get to the station. Dewey assumed the worst, that some new horrific murder had occurred, maybe even a huge bloodbath. He hoped Sidney and Randy were okay... Maybe the killer had turned himself or herself in... But then, Sam's nervousness sounded more frightened than excited...

Finally, he arrived at the station. A few civilians were beginning to crowd around, and two ambulances were sitting next to the station, their lights flashing... Dewey ran up the steps as quickly as his leg allowed him to.

Inside, the scene was chaos. Everyone was talking; some people were screaming. People were rushing around, yelling out orders. Blood was all over the floor. Marcus, the only cop who had been left at the station while the rest went to investigate Bethany's murder and the crime scene was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a blanket was draped over a body in the center of the floor, in the center of a massive pool of blood.

Dewey's heart felt like it stopped. Marcus was a good cop... and a good friend. He looked to Sam, who stood nearby, crying. He assumed the body was indeed that of Marcus, and Sam nodded, confirming his assumption.

Next Dewey had to check on Gale. The scene was such a mess that it was difficult to know what to do first. He looked to the cell where he had locked Gale earlier that evening. His greatest fear was that he'd see another bloodied sheet draped over a body. Fortunately, the sight he saw assured him Gale was very much alive. She was screaming at Jones, who stood in front of the cell, saying something to her, but Dewey couldn't make out what from the distance, and because of all the noise and confusion within the room.

"Gale!" Dewey rushed over to the cell, "what happened?"

He gently pushed Jones to the side, focusing his attention on Gale. She had blood all over her left upper-arm, and all over her opposite hand. The shirt he had given to her was drenched in blood as well. He wanted to hope it wasn't her blood, but logic told him it had to be. It couldn't have been that of Marcus, because Gale was still locked in the cell... He wondered if being locked up had saved her. Perhaps the killer didn't know where they kept the keys, so he tried to kill her but didn't succeed...

"Are you okay?" Dewey asked with urgency, grasping the bars of the cell and staring at Gale. She was shaking, and looked scared. For the moment, she just looked at him without speaking, but looked like she was trying to find words. Dewey looked at the sheriff, "get the key!" he urged.

"It's not where we keep them," the sheriff said calmly, "I was trying to ask Miss Weathers what happened, but she won't talk to me."

"Let me talk to her alone," Dewey requested.

The sheriff threw up his arms in frustration. He scoffed, turned away, and started walking back over towards where Marcus's body was laying.

"Gale," Dewey started, wishing he could be in the cell with her right now. As it was, he couldn't do much to comfort her until they found the key. His suspicion was that the killer did something with it, because he remembered putting it back on the hook where it belonged before he left.

Gale looked up at him and walked up toward the bars. She looked over his shoulder and then back at him, "Dewey," she started, looking like she might cry, "I'm sorry about Marcus... There was nothing I could do."

"Tell me what happened Gale," he looked at her seriously, "Where's the key? Did the killer take it? We need to get you out of there so a doctor can look at your arm, okay?"

Gale nodded, "I don't think it's serious," Gale assured him, looking down at her arm, "I'd have bled to death by now..."

Dewey frowned, "where's the key Gale? Do you know?"

She nodded, "the killer put it in Marcus's pocket," she frowned.

Dewey continued frowning, "Sam!" he called over the other cop.

"Yes sir," She almost jogged over to where Dewey stood. She looked apprehensive about all this. This was probably the most traumatic thing ever to have happened in her life.

"Gale says the killer put the cell's key into Marcus's pocket," Dewey informed her, "you don't have to be the one to get it out, but if you would let Jones or someone know so they could get it, I'd appreciate it."

She nodded and walked back over to the crowd of police officers near the body.

Dewey looked back toward Gale. Then he thought of something important, "was he wearing gloves?" he asked. She shook her head yes. That meant the key couldn't have finger prints on it, "Can I see your arm?" he asked. He was really worried about her. There was a lot of blood that had ran down her arm. Some of it was dry, but not all of it. That meant it was still bleeding rather heavily. There was blood all over the left side of the shirt he had lent her, and he noticed many drops were on the floor as well.

She brought her arm over and stuck it through the bars so he could see. Dewey gripped it gently. The cut didn't look extremely deep, but it did look painful. She might need stitches, but wouldn't be in any danger of dying from it.

"What happened here, Gale?" Dewey asked what he felt like he had already asked way too many times. She had yet to really give him any answer.

Gale inhaled deeply, "I fell asleep," she started, "I called Sidney and told her-" she paused, looking over Dewey's shoulder.

"That you think the sheriff is the killer?" Dewey whispered, "Sid told me. He's not. I can only assure you... He's not that kind of guy. Maybe he can be a bit angry and rude at times, but he's no killer."

"Well..." Gale started again, still not seeming convinced that Jones wasn't involved, "after I made the call, I had nothing to do but sit and wait, so I fell asleep. When I woke up... The killer was in here. In the station. And he was attacking Marcus," Gale's face showed sadness and she looked like she was going to start crying again(Dewey could tell she had been crying before.)

Dewey rubbed her uninjured arm, "it's okay," he assured her, "what happened next?"

Gale's lip trembled, but she continued, "I yelled and pleaded for him to let Marcus go, but he wouldn't listen... Then he came over here... Dewey... I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. He took the key off the wall, and he started unlocking the cell. I didn't know what to do..."

Dewey frowned. He hated seeing Gale so scared. Normally she was so calm and collected, and did her best to keep her emotions seemingly nonexistent. It was a shock to see her so emotional, scared, and vulnerable, "you're okay now," he assured her.

She nodded and continued, "I didn't know what else to do... I couldn't just let him open the door and come in here... I was cornered. He'd have killed me for sure. I tried to hold the door shut, so he couldn't get in... But then he reached into the cell and was waving the knife around like crazy... I stepped back, because he had cut me. I thought for sure he was going to come in all the way. I thought he'd come in and finish me off," she paused and stared at him. She looked like she was going to say more, but she never did.

Dewey's attention was drawn away from Gale when Sam walked up behind him and held out a latex glove, "Sheriff says you shouldn't handle the key without the glove, just in case," she informed him.

Dewey nodded, "Of course," he agreed. He slipped the glove on and then took the key from her. He looked back at Gale, "let's get you out of there."

As he unlocked the door and opened it, Gale walked out slowly. She looked around at the scene as she walked out of the cell. Dewey noticed Gale frown and look a bit like she might faint.

"You okay?" he asked, taking her arm and leading her toward a paramedic who was walking briskly toward them.

"Um hm," she nodded, not looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on the bloody sheet covering the body of the murdered cop.

"Sit down here, Miss," the paramedic instructed.

Dewey stood next to Gale as the paramedic looked her over.

As the medic took Gale's arm in her hands and inspected it, she began asking the reporter some necessary questions, "Do you have any odd sensation around the wound? It isn't numb?"

Gale shook her head, "it stings, but not as bad as it did before," she responded. As soon as she answered, her attention was drawn away, back toward Marcus's body. She was obviously very distracted.

The medic wrapped a bandage around her arm and then looked up at Gale, who wasn't paying any attention to the medic or to herself. "Miss," the paramedic drew her attention back, "is this your only injury?"

"I don't know," Gale mumbled.

The medic took Gale's hands, prompting the reporter to make eye contact, "Miss Weathers," she said calmly. (Obviously Gale was famous enough for the paramedic to recognize her.) "You need to focus, okay? I realize this is traumatic, and you're likely in shock, but I need to assess all of your injuries. Are you hurt anywhere other than your arm."

Gale looked at her for a moment and blinked a few times, as though thinking this question over, "I think it's just my arm," she answered. She breathed in deeply, and exhaled shakily. At that, she winced and gripped her left side. She looked down, likely seeing that her shirt was covered in her own blood. She seemed reluctant to lift it to see if the blood was from another injury or just from the visible one on her arm.

"Gale," Dewey stepped in, "Did you get cut there too?"

She shook her head in confusion, "I don't know... I don't remember that..." She put her hands on her shirt to raise it. Her hands were shaking, and she hesitated for a moment, as if unsure what she'd find. Dewey wondered how she could be so unsure. He supposed if she was really in shock, all the adrenaline may likely be masking her injury.

Finally, she pulled the shirt up far enough to expose a small gash near her ribs. It didn't look nearly as bad as the one on her arm, and for this, Dewey was very grateful.

"Is it bad?" Gale asked, looking, with worry in her eyes, at the paramedic.

The medic touched around the wound gently, "this is a very minor injury," she assured her. Then she continued, "we can bandage this one up easily," she indicated the one on Gale's ribs, "but the one on your arm is much deeper. It's not serious," she added when Gale's eyes widened, "but I think it would be best if we give you a few stitches and some pain killers."

Gale nodded. Dewey wondered how much of this was sinking in. Gale still looked a bit out of it.

"We can take you in the ambulance to the hospital. It'll be about thirty minutes, since Woodsboro doesn't have a hospital. The nearest one-" the medic was cut off by Gale.

"I know," she said, "I've been to Woodsboro many times. I know the area pretty well."

"Great," the medic smiled, probably glad that Gale was speaking instead of staring off behind her at the gruesome scene in the station, "I'll walk you out to the ambulance."

"I'm coming with you," Dewey offered. He didn't want to let Gale out of his sight again. She could have been killed tonight... Twice... And that wasn't a risk he was willing to keep taking.

"Dwight!" he heard the Sheriff call before they could leave. He looked over at his superior, "Dwight," he sheriff repeated, "I need to question her. She's the only witness."

Gale glared at him, "you don't still think I did this, do you? Are you insane?"

The sheriff raised his eyebrow, "You didn't do this one; that's for sure... Those two boys last time worked together... You could have an accomplice. How convenient for you that you're always at the crime scene as a victim, yet never actually get killed..."

"Would you stop that?" Dewey hissed, putting his hand lightly on Gale's shoulder and pushing her gently back so that she wouldn't lunge at the sheriff. She was beginning to look like she just might, "You've got no evidence she did anything... I'll get her side of the story at the hospital, okay?"

Sheriff Jones rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, "don't let your bias get in the way of this, Dwight."

"We have no reason to believe there's more than one killer, Sheriff. She didn't do anything... I know you don't like her," he whispered, even though he was certain Gale could hear him, "but that doesn't mean she's a killer. She's guilty of leaking information through the press, but not of murder, and you know that. I'm not bringing her back to the station. We've got no reason to keep her here."

The sheriff didn't argue. He knew Dewey was right. Instead, he just nodded, "Take her witness statement down on paper, Dwight. She may be your girlfriend, but she's also a witness, and you should treat this matter seriously."

"Will do, sir," Dewey assured him, hoping he wasn't angry. He knew the sheriff was being a bit harsh toward Gale, but he still respected the man, and didn't want him to be upset with him.

He took Gale's arm and led her toward the door, hoping both she and the sheriff would keep their mouths closed long enough that he wouldn't have to break up any more of their fights.

As they walked out of the station, they were greeted a swarm of media and an interested crowd of civilians. Dewey could hear whispers, some of them distinctly mentioning Gale's name. "Gale Weathers!" one reporter stepped up, shoving a microphone toward Gale, "what's going on in the station? Why are there two ambulances?"

As they made their way to the ambulance more reporters bombarded them with questions as well.

"Has there been another murder?"

"Officer, could you tell us what's happened? Have you made an arrest? Has someone confessed?"

"Miss Weathers, did the killer come after you? Do you think he'll come after you again and try to finish the job?"

At this, Gale turned on this reporter, "why don't you mind your own god-damned business?" She scowled as she pushed the camera away and continued walking, climbing into the ambulance.

Dewey followed her and sat down next to her. He was amazed at her reaction to reporters. It was baffling. She was a reporter too, guilty of every rude thing a reporter could do to someone. She'd ambush people, hurt their feelings, cause arguments... Yet when another reporter did it to her, she was completely offended, "Don't listen to them, Gale," Dewey smiled slightly, "reporters can be so insensitive." He was trying to assure her she wouldn't be killed, but was trying a bit of humor as well.

At first, Dewey thought his comment had offended the reporter, because she just stared at him for a moment. Sometimes it was impossible to tell what she was thinking, and now was one of those times. After a brief moment, however, she smiled.

This prompted Dewey to smile back. Then he turned more serious, "Gale, I want you to stay with me tonight," he offered.

Gale frowned. She looked reluctant, "You don't still live with your mother do you?" he asked.

Dewey sighed, "living with your parents when you're still a young adult is nothing to be ashamed of..."

Gale rolled her eyes, "You're kidding me..."

Dewey grinned, "yeah," he laughed, "I moved out while you and I were still dating... I guess you didn't really listen to me very well."

"It didn't help that you never invited me over," Gale frowned. She must have sensed that she had just created an awkward moment, because Dewey didn't have to try to come up with a response before she spoke again, "Anyway, yes," she said, "I accept your invitation."

"Oh," Dewey smiled, feeling nervous again, as he often did when Gale was anywhere around him, "good."

"You probably should have taken your police cruiser to the hospital so we'd have a way to get back to Woodsboro," Gale frowned.

"And leave you alone?" Dewey raised his eyebrows, "no chance. I've let you out of my sight for the last time. The killer could have killed you twice Gale... I don't mean to scare you," he interrupted himself, hoping Gale wouldn't hate him for what he was saying.

"You're not scaring me, Dewey. Stating the obvious isn't scary," Gale frowned.

"Well... He (or she) had the opportunity to kill you twice now. I don't know what he's waiting for. Maybe he doesn't want to kill you at all... But what if he does? And he (again, or she... or they) could be anyone," he leaned in close to her and whispered, "even the paramedics..."

Gale laughed, "I get what you're saying," she told him, "you don't trust anyone."

"That's right," Dewey smirked, "well... with what's going on now anyway... I mean, I trust people... just not so much lately."

"Trusting people only ends in disappointment," Gale looked up at him.

Dewey frowned, "Sometimes, I guess... But you trust me, right? And I've never disappointed you..."

Gale smiled, "you're the least disappointing person I know," she told him.

"You too," he squeezed her hand. It wasn't entirely true. She disappointed him a lot before he knew what to expect with her, but all of the good times they had made it well worth it, "it's you and me against the world, Gale." he grinned.

She just laughed and shook her head. She didn't like sappy talk like that. It sounded stupid even to him, but he really meant it. He wanted to say so many sappy things to her, like that he'd protect her from anyone and everyone, that he never wanted to risk losing her again... He just kept his sappy thoughts to himself though.

"We'll get you all patched up and then we'll be hidden away at home. Doors and windows locked..." he smiled.

Gale frowned, "patched up..." she repeated, looking down at her arm and sticking her lower lip out a little, "do you think it will leave a scar?"

Dewey frowned, "no worse than mine," he smirked a little.

So did she.

xxxxxx

I'll write more when I have time. Hopefully I will indeed have time... O_O Thanks for reading. :D