Sorry for the delay in updating in a very timely fashion. I've been distracted... I hope you're all still around and will read my next updates. :) Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it:

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They had gone through the motel's office much more extensively than they probably should have, considering it was a crime scene, but Gale and Dewey had not found anything useful other than a baseball bat which the manager had sowed away under the desk. Dewey had decided to hold onto that for now, to use as a weapon if he needed to. The room keys were either hidden someplace they couldn't think to look, or someone else had gotten to them before the reporter and cop had.

Gale figured the killer had probably taken all the card keys. That would explain how he got into the room next to Gale's, and how he got into Xavier's, if he even had. Gale still wasn't sure if her camera man was likely dead, or likely a killer. It had to be one of those possibilities, or else he would have answered when they had knocked. Gale frowned when she realized that either way, she'd never be working with Xavier again. She never really bonded with him much, but he was still a consistency in her life. Considering that he was probably either dead, or had just tried to kill her, Gale knew she'd have to find a new camera man now... again.

As for attempting to use some sort of registry to determine who was renting that third room, they didn't have any luck at all. It seemed this information was stored on the computer, which was password protected. The only person who might be able to give them the password was lying dead under the desk.

"Maybe we should just get out to the road and start walking toward town," Gale suggested.

Dewey shook his head, "it's probably ten miles into town, Gale... You're soaking wet and already shivering. And you're probably hurt more than you realize, from the killer trying to strangle you. I just don't know if walking ten miles is such a good idea for you right now."

"I can handle it, Dewey," Gale frowned. Sure, she wasn't in the best condition of her life. Her throat still burned, she was indeed shivering from the chill air, and her body ached from having been thrown to the ground, grabbed too harshly, and punched, but she could still walk, "do you have any better ideas? You want to just sit here until someone else decides to rent a room? If you haven't noticed, Xavier and I, and whoever was next door to me are the only people staying here. And that third person might actually be the killer. People don't come by here. If we wait for help that we didn't call for, we might be waiting forever."

"We could at least try to break down the door and get to your cellphone before walking," Dewey suggested.

"Are you kidding me, Dewey?" Gale scowled at him, "I don't think breaking a door down is going to be as easy as you think it is."

"I don't think walking ten miles is going to be as easy as you think it is," Dewey countered.

"Fine," Gale shook her head in annoyance.

She followed Dewey back outside. The pool, which was around the side of the building, gave off a faint, irritating glow which could be seen even before they turned the corner. As they walked past the pool, Gale gazed out over the blue water, which was actually beginning to make he feel sick. She was so tired of seeing that damn pool. Gale peered over the edge and saw a black shape at the bottom. It was the knife she had kicked into the pool before. At least the killer was unarmed.

"I thought I dropped my gun over here," Dewey sounded confused as he looked around at the end of the pool.

"Is it in the water?" Gale wondered, glancing back and scanning the bottom of the pool. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary besides the knife at the other end.

Dewey shook his head, "No. I just dropped it where I stood. I wasn't close enough for it to land in the water. And I remember hearing it hit the ground. It should be right here..."

"Well, the killer probably took it," Gale raised an eyebrow at him. So much for him being unarmed, "right before he took your car."

"Shit," Dewey frowned, "you're probably right." The cop looked around in the darkness, "but since he took my car, he probably went back into town. Otherwise, if he just wanted us to not have a way out, he'd have slashed the tires or something. He actually took it, so he must have been planning on driving somewhere... Man... we really need to alert someone of what's going on. They need to know that the killer is probably armed with a gun, and is in a police car. This is bad, Gale."

"No shit," Gale rolled her eyes.

They made their way back to Gale's room. They paused in front of the door and looked at it. The note the killer had written was still stuck to the door, right under the motel room's number.

For a moment, they both just stood there and stared at the door, "this isn't going to work," Gale reminded him.

Dewey sighed and then kicked at the door.

"Ow," he hissed as she limped backward, "that is one strong door..."

"I told you," Gale hugged her arms around herself in an attempt to get warm.

Dewey hadn't given up yet though. He proceeded to slam his shoulder up against the door. It still didn't budge.

Gale winced. He was going to hurt himself if he didn't stop, "it's not going to work, Dewey," she repeated, "you're going to break your arm."

Dewey slammed himself up against the door again, groaning when his shoulder made impact and the door still didn't so much as tremble.

"Dewey, stop," Gale put her hand on his arm. She handed him back the baseball bat he had handed over to her prior to trying the door, "there's no use dislocating your shoulder. Let's just try to walk back to town, Dewey, okay? I'm sorry if I sounded pushy before..."

The officer looked down at her, "let's at least try to find something to dry you off a little. Even something as small as a towel so you can wrap it around you while we walk. I can tell you're freezing, because I was in the same water you were... and I'm freezing."

Gale smiled, "you worry about me too much, Dewey. Cold weather isn't going to kill me. But we can look for something before we go... for your sake. I think there's a laundry room on the other side of the building. Maybe someone left something in there."

Dewey shrugged, "might as well check, right? Then we'll get back to the road and get out of here."

"Fair enough," Gale agreed.

She followed him along the edge of the building until they had walked all the way to the back. In a separate, unlocked room away from all the rent-able rooms, there was a washer and dryer. Dewey opened the door and they both walked inside.

There was a heavy scent of laundry detergent and fabric softener in the room. It was almost enough to make Gale want to leave the room entirely. But it was warmer in here than outside. She reached toward the dryer and opened it. Of course there was nothing inside.

"Washer's empty," Dewey told her.

"So is the dryer," she slammed the door back shut and looked around the room. There was a small coat rack with a couple empty hangers on it as well as a counter, which also had nothing on it, "well, I guess this wasn't a very good idea," she remarked.

"Let's just go then," Dewey sounded disappointed.

"Sorry, Dewey," Gale frowned, "but we'll be warmer when we start walking," she tried to cheer him up, "and we'll be back in town in no time. We can go back to your house, take a warm shower," she started, "let someone else process the crime scene, for once... Honestly, you can't keep working twenty-four seven."

Dewey looked down, "I just really want to catch this guy. It's hard to feel right about letting someone else do a job that you know you can do, and that you know is so important."

Gale nodded. She understood that more than anyone. No one's reporting even compared to hers, which is why she rarely took a sick day. She didn't want some other reporter on during her screen time. Not when she knew that they couldn't possibly do her own reporting justice, "I guess there's nothing left to do but walk back into town then," Gale reminded him.

Dewey pulled the door open and waited for Gale to walk out first. Gale offered him a small smile before she exited the room. He was always being quite the stereotypical gentleman.

As soon as Gale took that first step out of the door, she immediately collided with someone, and she immediately screamed in shock and stumbled backward.

"Gale!" it was Cotton Weary's voice. He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders to steady her, "oh my god, Gale; you're freezing."

The reporter stared up at Cotton for a very short second. Why was he here? Before she had a chance to question him, Dewey had grabbed her and pulled her behind him, so that the cop stood between the two of them.

"Cotton," Dewey spoke with much skepticism in his voice, "what are you doing here?" he wondered.

"Are you guys okay?" Cotton ignored Dewey's question and asked his own.

Gale could only stare at him from behind Dewey. She still didn't think Cotton could be the killer, but the fact that he was here was very unsettling. He had no reason to have come here. He lived in Woodsboro, so he wouldn't need a place to stay. Gale had worked with him extensively in the past, but hadn't really spoken to him for some time, "Why are you here, Cotton?" she spoke in a voice that was still strained from her earlier violent run-in with the killer.

Cotton shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "I got a call, from your cellphone, Gale," he started.

"I didn't call you, Cotton," Gale frowned. What was he talking about?

"No, it wasn't you," Cotton explained, "I have caller ID on my phone. It said it was you, so I answered. I don't answer if I don't know who's calling," he began to ramble, "somehow I guess my number got out to a couple of the wrong people. I get prank calls all the time."

"Who was it, Cotton?" Gale asked. Maybe the killer had taken her phone before he had left the motel in Dewey's car. If he had all the rooms' key cards, he certainly could have done so, "did the killer call you?" Gale wondered.

"Yeah," Cotton exhaled tiredly, "I mean, I guess. He didn't confess to any of the murders or anything, but he said if I didn't get here soon, he'd kill you guys."

"What?" Gale glanced nervously around the motel's back parking lot between the building and the trees, "there's no one else here, Cotton. The killer attacked me earlier, but then Dewey showed up and when Dewey was distracted, the killer took his car and left. He's gone... But I guess he's got my cell phone. Maybe he's trying to distract you from something."

"Or maybe he's trying to distract you from something, Gale," Dewey spoke with an edge to his voice, "think about it, Gale. The killer left. Cotton showed up... Just put the pieces together."

Gale shook her head, "what exactly did he say to you, Cotton?" she asked.

"I don't remember the wording exactly, but he said that he had both of you here at the motel, and that if I didn't show up, and with no cops, he'd kill you both," Cotton explained, "I figured since he had your cell phone, he was probably telling the truth."

Gale nodded. That sounded reasonable, "Dewey," Gale put her hand on Dewey's shoulder to gain his attention.

"Yeah?" he refused to turn around, keeping his eyes on Cotton.

"Cotton can take us back into town," she reminded him. They had no other means of transportation. Cotton was their way out of this.

"Yeah," Cotton agreed with a bit of awkwardness in his voice, "I can drive you guys back."

Dewey hesitated, "let us talk this out for a second," he suggested, "we'll be right back," he pushed Gale back toward the laundry room and followed her inside, "Gale," he whispered, "just how much do you trust this guy? The killer probably has my gun, so if Cotton's the killer, and we get into a car with him..."

"We don't have many options, Dewey," Gale frowned, "but I do trust him. He comes across the wrong way to a lot of people, but so do I. So do you. You've got to give him the chance he deserves. People don't take you seriously, but you're such a good cop. You were given a chance to prove yourself, and you did. People think I'm a cold hearted bitch, but... well," she hesitated. She wasn't sure which examples she could really give to disprove that one.

"Don't say that, Gale," Dewey looked hurt, "I would have never fallen in love with someone who was cold hearted."

Gale paused as she looked up into his eyes, "you're in love with me?"

"Of course I am," Dewey looked back into her eyes and smiled, "you've grown on me, Gale."

Gale laughed. She had various sorts of relationships with a whole lot of people in this world. Most of them ranged somewhere between enemies, casual acquaintances, and professional colleagues. She wasn't sure anyone else on the entire planet could actually claim with honesty that they loved her, "you didn't even have to grow on me, Dewey," she gazed at him.

They were drawn out of the moment when they heard a knock at the door.

"I'm getting a little nervous out here," they heard Cotton's voice, "if the killer really is here, I'd like to leave soon if that's possible. Standing right out here in the open doesn't seem like a great idea," he called through the door.

"What do you say, Dewey?" Gale looked up at him, "give him a chance? You gave me one."

Dewey sighed, "I guess," he finally agreed, "but I'm sitting up front with him."

Gale smiled and the two of them made their way back outside to join Cotton.

Still keeping Gale safely behind him, Dewey nodded toward Cotton, "let's get out of here."

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