Author's Note: I apologize for the slightly long wait. Hope you're still interested in reading the story. ha.
Title: My Hate Isn't Hate (Your Love Isn't Love Sequel)
Chapter Three: Trust Issues
"Your mom's handwriting? How can you tell?"
"I'd know my mom's handwriting anywhere, Freddie. That's my mom's handwriting."
Spencer gave the paper back to Sam, who clutched it close to her chest. That little piece of paper gave Sam a tremendous amount of hope that her mother could very well still be alive.
"You gonna go to the cops with that?" Spencer asked.
Freddie and Sam shared a look and knew they wouldn't get very far. Without a return address or a signature on the letter, this was pretty much another dead end. Sam knew this and all hope she had vanished just as quickly as it came.
"For all we know, this letter was from months or years ago." Sam carefully put the letter back into its envelope, determined to keep it as one last memory of her departed mother.
Freddie watched Sam sleep peacefully on the futon as the sun had just began to rise up over the horizon. He looked at the letter once more before dialing a number of digits on his PearPhone. It had already been a few days since they received said letter and both Freddie and Sam agreed that it wasn't necessary to contact the police. After all, there was no return address to give any leads.
But Freddie knew better and saw the postmark labeled "Seattle, WA". Freddie knew the fact that the letter was mailed from Seattle meant whoever sent the letter was close by. The police just had to have some clue as to who sent the letter.
A few rings later and the other line picked up.
"Hello, Detective Fisher? This is Freddie Benson- From the Richard Puckett case?."
"Oh, Fred. I was actually just about to call you."
"You were?"
"It's about Richard. I think you should come down to the station; Without Samantha."
"Um, alright. But what's this about?"
"Just get down here. We'll talk in person."
With that, the line was disconnected.
Freddie walked over to the futon and knelt down to kiss Sam on the forehead. "Be back in a few." he whispered, before quietly leaving the apartment.
"Fred, my office is right over here-" Detective Fisher called out. Freddie arrived at the police station in the late afternoon, the station busy with incoming fugitives and suspects. "My office has been moved since the last time you were here."
Detective Fisher, a rather stout and husky police officer, was the main man working the investigation of the Richard Puckett case. He's the man Freddie personally thanked in putting Richard behind bars. Fisher was there to arrest Richard, to interrogate him, and who made sure Sam was adjusting to her suddenly different new life. In a way, Freddie was indebted to the man.
Freddie entered the spacious office, the detective offering him a seat in the nice-looking chair. "You got a promotion?"
Fisher looked proud of himself. "Yeah, I'm a lieutenant now."
"Oh, well, congrats." Freddie said, less than enthusiastic. "You told me you had some information on Richard? What's so important that couldn't bring Sam?"
Lt. Fisher eyed Freddie, as if to measure how calm he was from sight alone. "We've received a call from King County Prison a few days ago."
"I was just there a few days ago; I went to visit him."
"Yes, we have that on file- We have video surveillance of your visit, as well."
Freddie started to get nervous, his palms getting sweaty. He swallowed a lump in his throat before continuing. "What's this about, Lieutenant?"
"Richard escaped from King County Prison the day you went to see him. He's still at large."
Freddie could feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. If word ever got out and Sam found out, she would become paranoid and afraid. Freddie could already picture coming home every night to a fearful Sam, crying herself to sleep.
Wait. Freddie pulled out the letter and envelope and handed it to the detective. "We received this the day I visited Richard. Sam says the handwriting belongs to her mom. Do you think Richard could've sent it?"
"A letter from Pam Puckett?" Lt. Fisher asked, taking the letter and examining it. "I highly doubt Richard sent this letter. It's very possible someone from the outside has been keeping Pam hostage while Richard did his time in the big house."
"So you think Sam's mom is alive?" Freddie asked, awfully hopeful.
"It can't be proven, but things are looking up." Lt. Fisher handed back the letter to Freddie. "Has Richard tried to contact you at all?" Freddie shook his head. "Be on guard for him, Fred, we'll send a patrol car to watch over your apartment for the next couple of days, maybe a week. Just to ensure yours and Sam's safety. I'll leave letting Sam know about all this up to you, Fred."
"Thank you, Lieutenant."
"If Richard does try to contact you or approach you, you call us immediately. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
Someone from the outside. Who on earth would want to help Sam's father do anything after hearing what he had done? Freddie thought about Sam's countless relatives who were either in prison or on parole. It was possible one of them had something to do with this whole thing.
Freddie mussed his hair as he dropped his things onto the floor and plopped face-first onto the empty futon. "Sam?" Freddie hollered, his voice muffled by a pillow. He lifted his head up and called out to Sam once more. No answer. Freddie groaned as he rolled off the futon onto the floor, stretching his tired limbs. He tried calling out once more, "Sam! You home?"
"There's a cop car outside."
Freddie jolted in surprise by Sam's sudden response. "Geez, you scared me." Freddie sat up and saw Sam sitting out on the fire escape, looking down towards 170th Street. Freddie joined Sam on the fire escape and quickly began thinking of what to tell Sam.
"What're you think they're here for?" Sam headed back into the apartment, walking into the kitchen.
I don't want to lie to her. "Probably waiting for something to happen- If anything happens." Freddie simply answered, closing the window behind him as he got off the fire escape. "You making breakfast?"
"Psh. No." Sam scoffed, reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out a chicken drumstick. "Do you think they're watching us? I saw them looking at our building with binoculars." Sam completely side-stepped Freddie's attempt to change the subject, determined to know just what exactly the cops were up to.
Freddie peered out the window once more, seeing that the police were indeed looking up to their apartment building, more specifically at him. "Why would they be watching us?"
Sam shrugged as she took a bite of chicken. "I don't know. Do any illegal lately?"
"No!" Freddie exclaimed, appalled that Sam would even suspect him doing anything illegal. "Have you?" He walked over to the kitchen and looked Sam in the eye.
Sam had matured in the past three years and she grew out of doing mischievous things, but Freddie knew that Sam still had that side of her that surfaced every once in a while. "Not recently- And not anything that the police can prove."
"You naughty girl." Freddie chuckled, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist. Sam was in an oddly playful mood, so she smiled back her devious little smile and wrapped her arms around Freddie.
"You know it, Freddifer." The two shared a quick kiss, Freddie smiling as he looked into Sam's deep blue eyes. He didn't want to ruin Sam's happy mood.
"Carls is coming into town in a few hours. Remember the beach? Can you come with us?" Sam questioned hopefully.
"I have work to do. Besides, wouldn't you rather spend quality 'girl-time' with Carly?"
"Well, just come with me to say 'hi' and then you can go 'do your work'."
"...'Kay." Freddie smiled softly, content with the blissful moment, as he leaned in for another kiss. Freddie figured that he could wait until tonight to tell Sam the news.
"Carly!" Sam exclaimed as she threw her arms around her brunette best friend. The two girls shared a hug and Sam squeezed Carly as tight as she could. "I missed you, Carls."
"I missed you too, Sam, but right now you're squeezing the life outta me." joked Carly, Sam releasing her bear-hug grip. Carly and Freddie exchanged a friendly hug, although not quite as heartfelt as Carly and Sam's hug. "Hey, Freddie, long time no see."
"Yeah. How's 'Mr. Hollywood?'"
"Oh shut up. He's doing fine. Are you coming with us to the beach, Freddie?"
"No, I'm just here to say hi, I need to do some work at the office." Freddie explained, getting into his car. "It was good seeing you, Carly, maybe we can hang out next time." Freddie leaned out his car to give Sam a quick goodbye kiss before driving off, leaving Sam and Carly by themselves in the middle of the city.
"Freddie seems like he's doing well. How's things between the two of you?" The two best friends sat across each other at the small diner on the corner of the street. It was one of Carly's favorite places to eat when she came to visit.
"Things are alright, I guess." Sam sighed, resting her chin on her elevated arm. "I mean, he's been a little distant lately, but he does this every year at around this time. 'The time' being when my dad was sent away."
"Mm. But, he still loves you. I mean, the two of you are engaged, for Pete's sake!"
"I guess. But lately, it just seems like I can't trust him. He's always off 'doing work'," Sam started explaining, gesturing little air quotes with her fingers around the words "doing work". "It's getting really flippin' annoying. What if he's off banging some skunkbag behind my back?"
Carly's jaw dropped. "This is Freddie we're talking about here, Sam. Freddie. He's as goody-goody as 'goody-two-shoes' can get."
"I don't know. He made a call to Detective Fisher this morning."
"The guy who worked on your dad's case?"
"Yeah. We got a letter from my mom in the mail a few days ago. I guess Freddie was calling about that, but then he got called in to the station, without even mentioning the letter. Now the cops are parked outside our apartment." Sam continued, her eyes darting outside the window to make sure no one was watching her. "I feel like they're watching me."
"Have you done anything illegal lately?"
"Nothing that would warrant them to keep a patrol car on me. I think they're watching Freddie. I think maybe he's involved in something."
"I don't know, Sam. Freddie's not the type to be involved with criminals."
Freddie coasted down the street as a casual speed as his PearPhone suddenly rang. He quickly activated his Bluetooth headset, answering the call.
"Freddie B."
"Fred Benson." A voice called out, scratchy and hoarse.
"Yes... Who is this?"
"Richie P." The voice mocked Freddie's way of identifying himself.
It took Freddie a few seconds to put two and two together. "Richard? Where are you calling me from?" Freddie quickly swerved his car, nearly hitting another in the process as he drove into a parking lot. He sloppily parked the car into a lane and scrambled for his phone. Unidentified caller.
"Don't bother trying to find me. I'm doing well to stay under the radar. Listen up, Fred, I know you think Pam is still alive."
"You're damn right I know she's alive. You break out of jail so you can finish the job?"
Richard laughed from the other side of the line, the static made his voice sound distorted. "Not at all. But I'm betting you'd really like it if Sammy could be reunited with her mother again. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"What do you want?"
Richard cackled as Freddie's peaked interest strung a cord in Richard's funny bone. "So you're interested?"
"I'll do anything to make Sam happy. Now, what do you want?"
"You're a good man, Fred. Glad to know you're being smart about this."
Author's Note: Can you guess what'll happen next? :P