Chapter 15

Brock and Misty checked in at the front counter, getting vistor stickers and then being permitted into the building. It was kind of annoying, but then again, Brock was glad that they were so cautious about letting strangers into the building. It kept his daughter safe.

They found Fiona's classroom and knocked on the door. Georgio looked up from his papers on the desk, and smiled, inviting them in. Brock opened the door and Fiona immediately looked up, and ran to them. She wrapped her arms around Misty's waist.

"Mommy!"

"Hey, Fiona!" Misty said, smiling down at her. "What's the matter, Sweetheart?" She knelt down until she was eyelevel with her daughter and Brock walked up to Georgio.

"Brock Harrison," he offered his hand and Georgio timidly took it, noticing the strong grip he had.

"Georgio Franklin," he said, offering a nervous smile. Brock was even more intimidating than he had imagined. He had a crush on Misty since Elementary school, and she never had shown interest in him. When he found out she had married Brock Harrison, the Pewter City Gym leader, he knew he'd never really get a shot with her. He didn't want Brock to find out he was still pining away for his wife.

"Has Fiona been like this all day?" Brock asked, looking back at his daughter, that was clinging so tight to Misty that he wasn't sure if she'd ever let go.

"She has," Georgio said. "She hasn't really been trying to play with the other kids. Fiona's shy and selective, but that's alright. A lot of the most intelligent kids are selective about who they hang out with. I know she misses Holly."

"We'll help her through it," Brock said, nodding his head. "You have a great day."

"Thanks," Georgio said, than his eyes fell on Misty and his heart skipped a beat. She was just glowing, and beautiful. Her breasts were full, her hair was thick, long, and red. She was a thousand times more beautiful than she was when he was teenager, and even then she was a knock-out.

"Bye Beautiful," Georgio said, then immediately realized what he had said, and his eyes widened. Brock and Misty both looked back at him and he blushed. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"C'mon, Misty. Let's go home," Brock said, wrapping his arm protectively around her and leading her out into the hallway. "He's still got a thing for you, doesn't he?"

Misty shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm with you, and I love you."

"Yea, well, I want to make sure he knows it," His scowl eventually turned into a grin, and Misty buckled Fiona up in the backseat.

"You're jealous aren't you?" She asked, grinning.

Brock laughed at her remark. "Jealous? Of that nerd? Oh, c'mon. It isn't like we are in some kind of 1980's teen classic movie where the nerd gets the pretty girl, and the jock gets dissed. I could pound that little dweeb into the ground if I need to."

"Don't be so violent, Brock," Misty said, playfully slapping him on the arm. "Plus, I'm not some prize to be fought over and won. I'm not a trophy."

"You're right, I'm sorry," he apologized as they rode down the highway. "He just needs to know he can't undress you with his eyes like that. Only I'm allowed to do that."

Misty rolled her eyes, and then turned back to Fiona.

"How are you, Sweety?"

Fiona was smiling, but she looked from the window to her mother. "I miss Holly."

"I know you do," Brock said, sadly. "We all do. But you'll make new friends. Trust me, you have your whole life ahead of you, Fiona."

...

Lola Harrison stopped by to enjoy a dinner with her son and daughter-in-law, and also offer some comfort to her granddaughter when she had heard that the poor little girl had come home early from school that day. She had stopped by the toy store and bought Fiona a couple of barbie dolls, though Brock had told her it wasn't necessary. Fiona already had plenty of barbies and ken dolls to start her own city, but Lola insisted, as she always did.

Fiona's face lit up and she looked at Misty. "Mommy, will you play barbies with me?"

Misty smiled. "Yes, Fiona. I will. Maybe we will play tonight before you go to bed. How does that sound?"

"Yes!" Fiona said, running up to her room.

Lola smiled at Misty and gave her a hug. "How are you, Sweetheart?"

"Tired. I feel like a blimp," Misty gave her a week smile. "I don't even have the cute baby bump. I just feel bloated."

"You are gorgeous, Misty," Lola complimented her. "Sometimes you feel heavier with some babies than others. I gained so much weight with Brock, but hardly gained any with Forest. Of course Brock ate like a truck growing up."

"He still does," Misty said, smiling, watching him pull a pudding cup from the fridge.

"Hey, I work it off at the gym," he said, defensively. And he did. Brock didn't have an ounce of fat on him, he had always been pure muscle.

"Don't ruin your appetite," Lola told him, just like she used to when he was a little boy and used to sneak cookies and pudding before dinner. "Misty's worked very hard on dinner tonight."

"I'm not, Mother," he said, finishing off the pudding cup. Then his face turned serious and he sat down beside her at the kitchen island.

"How are you feeling, Mom? You alright?" Brock asked.

"I'm just fine, Sweety," she promised him with a grin. "Don't worry about me."

"Do you need any money?" Brock asked her.

"Oh, Honey, don't even think about it," she said, slapping his hand lightly. "You save that money and put it towards Fiona, your wife, and your new baby. I have plenty that comes in from the gym. We will own part of that you know."

"I know," Brock told her. "I just want to make sure you are alright."

Lola kissed his cheek. "I'm having dinner with my son, my wonderful daughter-in-law, and my beautiful granddaughter. Of course I'm alright." She swallowed her tea and then looked at the both of them. "Forest did tell me that you kicked Flint out."

"I had to," Brock replied, feeling guilty and hoping his mother wouldn't be mad at him.

"You don't have to explain sweetheart, I know what kind of man he is," she looked down at her coffee cup, then her eyes locked on to Misty's. "I'm sorry that he made you feel uncomfortable."

"It's not your fault, Lola," Misty offered. "I felt bad when I told Brock. I didn't want to get anyone hurt."

"Oh, Sweety, don't feel bad," Lola said, standing up and giving her a hug. "Anytime a man touches you in a way you don't like, you need to tell someone. Especially Brock. He works very hard to keep you safe, Honey."

"I'm just sorry that my mother did what she did and caused you to be hurt, Lola," Misty said, almost feeling as if she was about to cry. "She's not here, by the way. She went out to a movie and won't be back until late."

Lola grinned. "Good. Because if you don't mind me saying, I'd really like to knock the bitch out."

"Momma!" Brock said, shocked, but his expression turned into a grin. "Now you know where I get it from. I'll knock Georgio out."

"Georgio?" Lola asked.

Misty rolled her eyes. "Fiona's new teacher. We knew eachother back in Cerulean City and he he's had this life long crush on me, but obviously, I'm not interested. If I was, I would be in his kitchen, pregnant with his child and having him stare at my ass."

Brock's eyes snapped from her rear to her face, and he smiled. "Yea, but you'd still want me."

Lola giggled. "Brock, don't be cocky. You're a very lucky man to have such a wonderful mother to your children, and such a beautiful wife."

Tracey hid behind the wall and could hear every word they were saying. Yes, Brock was a very lucky man indeed. And he hated him for it.

... The next morning, Misty woke up and immediately felt dizzy. Morning sickness. It had hit her like a ton of bricks, and she rushed to the bathroom, spitting up very little of what was in her stomach, and sitting back against the wall.

Brock tiredly walked into the bathroom, squinting against the light. "You alright, Honey?"

"Morning sickness," she replied, and then flushed the toilet. The room was spinning and she just wanted to get back to bed. Brock got a rag from the closet and ran it under very cold water, then helped her to feet and back over to the bed, placing it across the forehead.

"You want me to get you some crackers and ginger ale? Maybe try to eat that before you actually get out of bed. It helps," he sat on the edge of the bed as she laid her head back on the cool pillow. Her nausea was starting to subside, but she nodded. It wouldn't hurt.

He stood up and left the room. The room was dark, and had finally stopped spinning now. She hadn't had terrible morning sickness with Fiona, just a few times in the beginning, and she was hoping this would all be done with by her second trimester. A few seconds later, he returned with a bottle of ginger ale and a sleeve of saltines.

"Eat a few of those and drink the ginger ale before you sit up," he said, and she took a cracker from the sleeve, munching on the bland, dry crunchiness, then washed it down with a sip of ginger ale. "It always worked for my Mom. Of course, eventually, she had no morning sickness at all since her body had grown accustomed to being pregnant."

"Are you trying to do that same thing to me?" She asked eyeing him and he laughed.

"No, I don't see you as a baby-making machine," he said, shaking his head. "Maybe just a dishwasher...

"Brock!" She scolded him and he kissed her forehead.

"I'm kidding. I'm kidding. Don't hate me," he chuckled. "I'm a guy. I'm stupid. Plus, you know I'm usually the one who does the dishes anyway."

She smiled at him and sipped the ginger ale again. "I'm feeling better now."

"Good. I'll get Fiona off the school. I have a match at ten o'clock, and I'll be gone until about seven tonight. If you need me, call me, alright?" He said, and she wanted to argue with him, -she was perfectly capable of getting Fiona ready for school- but she was afraid the world would start spinning again if she got up and started moving around, chasing Fiona around getting her ready.

"Alright," she said, sinking back down into her pillow. "Brock?"

"Yea?" He asked, as he stood up.

"I love you," she said, softly and he kissed her softly.

"I love you, too," he said, his eyes shimmering in the darkness as he looked down at her. Then he was gone, and she closed her eyes, slipping right back into sleep.

...

Tracey watched Misty sleeping for a good hour. He hid inside the closet, and only opened it a fraction to peek his eye out. She wasn't feeling well, and he thought of how inconsiderate Brock was for just taking off to work at his stupid gym when Misty was feeling so lousy. After all, he was the one who had knocked her up, the least he could was take care of her.

He knew that if she was pregnant with his child, he'd never spend a minute away from her and would stay with her when she was sick. He sketched a picture of her. She was facing towards the closet, her back to the bathroom door. Her eyes were closed, and her long lashes fell over her cheeks. Her red hair curled around her shoulders so beautifully, Tracey didn't take his eyes off of her as he sketched. He couldn't look away.

He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed beside her, wrap his arms around her, kiss her neck, then her lips, and feel her breasts on his palms. He had felt her breasts way back when they were dating, but that's as far as he had gotten with her. She would always stop him, and though he had gotten angry about it, he hadn't shown it until he figured out why. It was because she was still holding out hope for Brock. His anger grew as he thought about Brock again.

Damn bastard.

He watched her stir in her sleep, turn around and settle back into the pillow. He was positive she hadn't woken up. He used to watch her sleep when they were together. He would sneak into her room, whichever room she was staying in, and he would watch her. Sketch her.

The urge to wrap his body around hers was getting to strong, so he retreated back into the closet, crawled through the small space he had dug out between Misty's closet and Rose's closet and he emerged in Rose's room. She was sitting at her vanity table, applying her make up.

"Tracey," she whispered. "I was wondering if you were awake yet. I bought you some breakfast from the Burger King down the street."

Rose," he said, ignoring the chicken biscuit. "I want to go in there and be with her. I want to hold her. Touch her. Smell her. I want to make love to her." His eyes were welling up with tears, and Rose shook her head.

"Tracey, no, we talked about this. What do you do when you have those feelings?" She asked.

"Take a cold shower," he repeated what she had told him and she nodded.

"You'll have to be quick. Use the bathroom in the hallway, only take about a minute or two, just to get those thoughts off your mind," Rose said, then suddenly, her cell phone rang. "Hold on a second, dear."

She clicked on her phone and held it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Mom?" It was Lilly, and she sounded scared.

"Lilly, darling. How are you this morning?"

"Daisy's in labor," Lilly told her. "She just went to the hospital about an hour ago. Can you please make it here? She's really scared."

"Oh, Honey, of course I'll be there," she said.

"Is Misty coming with you?" Lilly questioned.

"I'm afraid not. She's pregnant too, and her morning sickness is bothering her. I'm going to let her sleep," Rose said, hoping Tracey would behave himself while she was gone. "Try giving her a call later this afternoon. I'm sure she and Brock would love to come see the baby once it's born."

"Alright," Lilly said. "I'll see you in a couple of hours."

They hung up and Rose looked back at Tracey. "I have to go, Sweety."

Panic was apparent in his eyes. "No, no, no, no!" He shook his head. "Please, I don't know if I can control myself without you here, Rose. I might really do something stupid."

"Take the cold shower. You know Brock will be gone all day long. Fiona is off at school. Misty will probably be asleep for a couple of hours, at least, so go take your shower now and go back into hiding and do not come out until I am back home, which probably won't be until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Tracey asked, looking at her disbelief.

"You can do it," Rose said, leaning in and kissing him on the lips, softly, then passionately. She pulled away a moment later and smiled. "Cold shower. Now."

...

The cold shower hadn't helped Tracey at all. He had taken it for a good five minutes, letting the arctic water fall over his body, distracting him from the sexual desires and thoughts he was having, but it hadn't seemed to help. He went back into the closet, and waited for what seemed like hours, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes. He ate the chicken biscuit Rose had brought him, but it didn't help his desires any. He found himself staring at her again from inside the bedroom closet.

She was still wrapped up in the quilt. All he could see was her red hair against the pillow. He stood up, and he tried to tell himself not to do it, but he opened the closet door and crept towards her. Now he could see her face, she was so beautiful he felt like maybe he was dreaming. Being this close to her again was like a dream.

He had been close to her the night she had woken up and saw him pleasing himself to her. He had been so close to her, that he rubbed his erection onto her lips as she slept. He didn't know why he had done that, he knew it would wake her up, but he couldn't help it. He had to know what it felt like, and he had watched her do it to Brock so many times that his jealousy finally got the better of him.

But Brock wasn't here now. Brock wasn't here now to stop him, or beat him up, or choke him to death. Tracey lifted up the quilt behind her and slid into bed. He couldn't help but remember that it was Brock's side of the bed, with his pillow, the indention where his head had been all night was still there. His eyes scanned over the headboard, and he could see the nicks in it that it had gotten from hitting the wall so many times when they would make love.

It pissed him off. He wanted to throw it across the room, or beat Brock over the head with it.

Then his eyes fell on Misty. The warmth of her body was warming up his legs, which were already under the quilt with her, and her steady breathing told him she was in a very deep sleep. He smiled and with a sense of boldness, he wrapped his arm around her waist.

Her body was perfect. Her curves were in all the right places. Her breasts were very obvious in her silk night shirt she was wearing, and her legs were smooth and bare against his own. He was spooning her by now, and she seemed to instinctively settle back down in his warmth.

He lay his head on the pillow and smelled her hair. It smelled like lavender. Misty always smelled like lavender, even when they were dating. Her hair was soft, and shiny and smelled so fresh and clean.

Then his lips found her neck and he kissed her there, a couple times, before he felt her stir. A smile played at her lips, and Tracey could feel his erection pressed against her backside. She moved back against him, never opening her eyes.

The feeling of her rear against his erection and the small sound of pleasure she made caused him to go over the egde, and his body spasmed as orgasm overtook him. He made a very audible sound, and Misty's eyes flew open.

Someone was in bed with her. The warm, solid body. Brock? No. It didn't smell like Brock. He always smelled of cologne. She just smelled body wash, and maybe stale body odor. She turned around and let out a loud shreik. Tracey fell backwards out of bed and Misty stood up, beating him with a pillow and crying.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" She screamed, and Tracey backed away from her, his legs still shaking from his orgasm. When he saw her reach for her phone, his lust turned into anger and he lunged for her, but Misty was faster. She raced from the bedroom and down the stairs, hoping not to fall. She didn't.

She made it to the landing of the stairs, but Tracey was racing after her, a look of rage on his face. She rushed out of the front door and down the street. Her cell phone clutched in her hand, she turned into a neighbors yard and saw that the camper they had on site had its door open. No one was inside.

Sure, she could get in trouble for traspassing, but when they learned she was being chased by a psychomaniac, maybe they wouldn't press charges against her. Shakily, she dialed 911, and an oparator picked up.

"Tracey Sketchit. He's chasing me...he...he was in my house...in my bed," she said, then a loud bang came to the front of the camper.

"Open up, Bitch!" Tracey screamed, jerking on the door. "I know you're in there!"

Misty tried not to scream, and she kept her voice quiet. "He's after me. He's going to kill me."

"We have an officer on the way right now, Mrs. Harrison," the dispatcher said."Don't open that door. Try not to scream. Just keep quiet."

"You fucking cunt whore!" Tracey screamed louder and Misty started to cry more.

"I want to call my husband," she said to the dispatcher. "Can I please call my husband?"

"I need you to stay on the phone with me," The dispatcher said. "We will get a call out to your husband. Don't worry. Just focus on staying calm and quiet. The police will be there shortly."

"I'm gonna fucking rip this door off and kill you! You stupid selfish slut!" His voice ripped through her ears and she backed away from the door as he violently pounded on it. The door was coming loose from the hinges, she could see that now.

She heard police sirens, and then the banging stopped. She got up off the floor of the camper and peeked through one of the windows. Police cars were everywhere, about 3 of them, and they were searching the entire yard, guns drawn. Her eyes widened. Where was Tracey?

Did he run?

She knew she hadn't imagined it.

Maybe she was just dreaming. Maybe she would wake up and she would be in her own bed, and maybe Brock would be beside her, cuddled up next to her, kissing her. She hoped that was the case, but she couldn't wake up, because she was already awake.

A sharp knock came at the camper and Misty jumped.

"Pewter City Police Department. Open up!" A male officer with a loud, deep voice sounded.

Misty rushed to the door and opened it, and the officers looked up at her. "Mrs. Harrison..."

"I'm sorry, I was hiding..." she said, as one of the officer helped her out of the camper. Her neighbors came outside. They were a couple around her and Brock's age, with two kids. Misty often played poker with the wife once a month.

"Misty?" Deidra Meyer asked. "What's going on?"

"I was being chased by Tracey, the man who...tried to kill me...a long time ago, and we used to date, but not seriously or anything, and he..." Misty trailed off, realizing she wasn't making a whole lot of sense, tears streaming down her face. "He was in bed with me, and he chased me out of my house and...I didn't know where to hide from him and i saw your camper was open, and I'm so sorry. I'll pay for any damages to your door."

"It's fine," Preston Meyer said. "It's not a big deal. I've got insurance on the thing and it doesn't look that bad. The important thing is, are you alright?"

"I'm just scared," she said, not moving from the police officer who was standing with her. "I just want my husband."

"We're contacting him now, Mrs. Harrison," a female officer said, reassuringly.

"Did you get him?" Misty asked, looking around, like an animal looking for a potential predator.

"No, but we saw him running back behind some bushes. We're on his trail," Another male officer told her.

...

Brock was in the middle of an intense battle with his cell phone at his pocket rang out loudly. Normally, he wouldn't have answered it, but with Misty being in her early pregnancy, he always took it as a priority.

"Hold the match," Brock said, reaching for his cell phone. The number on the screen said the Pewter City Police Department, and he answered it, leaving the 10 year old boy from Fushia City waiting.

"Brock Harrison," he answered.

"Brock, this is Officer Rowland from the Pewter City Police department," he said. "Your wife was just alledgedly chased out of the house by a strange man. She hid in a camper of one of your neighbors, The Meyers, and called us. We are trying to the find the man now."

"Oh, God, no," Brock shook his head. "Is she OK? Did he hurt her?"

"No, she doesn't appear to be hurt and she says she's fine, but she keeps asking for you," Officer Rowland told him.

"I'll be there," Brock said, immediately calling off the match. "Tell Misty I'll be there in five minutes. You're at the Meyers house?"

"Yes, Sir," he said.

"Thank you," Brock hung up the phone. "Listen, kid, here is your fee back. I'm sorry, I'm going to have to reschedule our battle. A family emergency has come up and I have to go."

The little boy nodded his head and didn't argue. Brock headed out to his truck and ripped out onto the street, racing towards his neighborhood. Three police cars were in front of the Meyers house and Misty stood in the yard, shivering in nothing but her sleep clothes.

He parked, and got out, immediately taking Misty into his arms and hugging her. She drank in his scent and his warmth.

"Brock, I was so scared," she said, finally letting all the tears flow out again.

"Shhh, shhh," he whispered softly. "I've got you, now. I've always got you, OK?"

She nodded and wiped the tears from her face. "I want to go home."

"We'll go home," he told her. "Have you given your statement to the police."

"We got it," Officer Rowland said, nodding his head. "You can take her home. She seems pretty shook up. We'd also like to do a search of the house, in case he returned. We'll send Officer Fleming there, along with Detective Stone, and they will do a full sweep of the house."

"Thank you," Brock said.

When they arrived back to their house, which was only a short drive down the road, they found Eevee outside, sitting on the front porch. She ran up to greet Misty and Brock as they got out of the truck, and the police officers entered the house first, while Misty lifted Eevee into her arms and they followed inside.

"Misty, stay here by the front door. Once we clear this room, do not turn your back on the rest of the house for a second, alright?" Brock told her, and she nodded nervously.

"Alright," she said, and he kissed her briefly.

They cleared the entire bottom half of the house, then went upstairs to the bedrooms. They started with Fiona's room, checking her closet, under her bed, behind her door. Nothing. Next, they moved to the guest bedroom. Nothing but Rose's things, and the closet was open, but nothing in there was suspicious looking, not at first sight anyway.

Then, they went into Misty and Brock's bedroom, and Brock was dreading what he might find in there. Their bed was unmade, of course, their closet door was swung wide open and Brock got a chill. Neither of them ever left their closet door open. Misty had a phobia about closets, and he just thought it looked untidy, but there it was, wide open.

The other officers checked the bathroom, but Brock knew something was wrong with the closet. He went over to it and peered inside, moving the clothes around. Then he saw it, and he knew the officers weren't going to believe what he found.

...

Tracey ran as fast as he could through the forests that surrounded Pewter City. He was in Viridian Forest, he knew, because of all the signs posted to certain trails and the best place to catch wild Pokemon. He had to get out of this area, anyone could spot him. A kid out training, a couple taking a walk on the trails, a police officer.

His legs were burning though and the air was very cold. So cold he could see his breath in front of him. After being couped up in a closet for nearly three months, his muscles had felt like jello and his lack of food meant his lack of strength.

The forest was so deep it seemed like it was night time, hardly any sunlight shone through the trees. If he could just get to Pallet Town and catch a ferry, he could be in the Orange Islands by sundown. No one would find him there. And he knew exactly who would protect him.

Professor Ivy.

She hated Misty. He knew that much. She hated her since the moment she saw her and Brock out on the beach, the same night he had seen them and had taken his first sketch of Misty's lovely face. She would protect him.

Viridian City was crowded, but Tracey had learned along time ago never to act like an outlier. He found a spot to rest, a small cafe right next to Giovanni's gym. He ordered a muffin and a coffee and let his muscles relax. He was sweating, and his whole body burned from the exertion he had put himself under, but he was grateful for the food, the freedom, and the fresh air.

After almost an hour of relaxation, Tracey knew he couldn't stay in one spot for long, but he knew the route to Pallet Town was a long one, so his next stop was a bike shop, and he dug into his pockets, pulling out the wad of cash the Rose Vaughn had given him just three days prior, for emergencies. And this was an emergency.

The bike owner was grateful for the cash, and he hadn't asked for too much I.D. Tracey sped away from Viridian City, straight to Pallet Town, which ran a ferry every day from Pallet to Miken Island and from there he could get to Valencia.

Trees sped by him, wind whipped his face for nearly an hour until he finally came up Professor Oak's laboratory, and just down the street from that, Delia Ketchum's house. He remembered what had happened in that house. How he had heard Misty's cries of ecstacy when she had cheated on him with Brock, and how he had been shot almost to death and his blood had stained Delia's floor so heavily that she had to replace her entire kitchen floor.

How he had shot Gary Oak, simply because he was angry.

He closed his eyes. He couldn't think about that right now. The Ferry was leaving in 20 minutes, and he had to make it. It was his only ticket to freedom.

...

"Oh, Jesus," Officer Stone said, shining a flashlight into the closet. The back wall had been cut out -carved out, actually- big enough for a human being to crawl into. Brock discovered that the hole he had cut into wasn't just a hole, but a tunnel, and it took him a second to recognize that through this tunnel, he could see directly into the guest bedroom. His light shined on the dresser that Rose had been using in the other room.

"Oh, Holy shit," Brock said, in disbelief. "This hole...or tunnel...it leads into our guest bedrooms."

"I'm going to go down and get Mrs. Harrison. The house is clear. We're positive," Officer Stone said, and left the other officer in with Brock. He had crawled inside his own closet now, and squeezed himself inside the tunnel. He was afraid of what he might find. Human feces. Human urine. Maybe even a dead body...but surprisingly, he found nothing. Nothing except an evelope, which his hand had landed on in the dark.

It was a large yellow envelope, it's bulkiness made it hard to manuever through the tunnel, but just as he was almost at the end of the tunnel and about to enter the closet in the guest bedroom, he discovered a tunnel off to the side.

Oh, God, no, no, no! The tunnel led to Fiona's room, and his stomach churned as he started down that path, and sure enough, he found himself in Fiona's closet, her wall also was able to be known down. He stood up in her closet and exited into her room, carrying the envelope with him. The officer looked confused when he saw Brock out in the hallway.

"How did you?"

"There's a tunnel system between these three rooms, it seems." Brock said. "I found this...it's an envelope. I didn't open it, I don't know if you could use it for evidence or not."

Detective Stone came up with Misty and Fiona a moment later, and as Brock took his family into his arms, the officers went into the bedroom again and opened the envelope. Sketches on thick white paper scattered onto the bed, and Officer Stone's blood ran cold.

They were all of Misty.

Some were of her in the shower, some of them were here getting dressed or making love, or sleeping. Most of them were drawn when she was nude, and the officers found themselves staring, amazed at the almost photograph-like art work and the skill that it took to do it this well.

Then, the last one, looked like it was done in a hurry, though very recognizable. Her eyes were wide open, and her stomach was gutted out, a fetus lay beside her body, and an image of terror was on her face. Her long, red hair was matted with blood. The younger officer started to cry, but Officer Stone scolded him.

"No crying. If you need to leave, contain yourself, come back in. Don't let them see your crying. They have a child." He told him, and the other officer excused himself to the bathroom to get the horrible drawing out of his mind.

Misty and Brock entered the room, and Officer Stone motioned to the pictures on the bed. He didn't show them the last picture, not until they had time to digest what was in those envelopes.

Misty blushed. "They're all of me..."

"Yes," Officer Stone said. "He was living in your closet, drawing pictures of you, probably fantasizing..."

"He's gone now," Brock told her, comfortingly. "I went through the whole closet, through the tunnels he created. He's gone. He fled."

"Have you caught him yet?" Misty asked, hoping he would say yes. She didn't want to live in fear.

"Not yet, Mrs. Harrison," Officer Stone said, and they both sensed he had more to say. "There is one more picture I want to show you, but it's not beautiful like the others. I mean that as a compliment to you, Mrs. Harrison."

Misty blushed, and then her eyes met the Officer's and she wrapped her arms around Brock even tighter. "What is it?"

"It's a gruesome picture and I'm only showing you because we need you to know all the evidence we have..." he pulled out the last picture and both Misty and Brock stared down at it with disgust.

Misty shrieked and buried her face into Brock's chest, and Brock could only stand to look at it for a few seconds before he, too, turned away.

"What the fuck? Why would he draw that?" Brock asked.

Officer Stone shook his head, his fellow officer walked out of the bathroom. "I don't know, Mr. Harrison. But we promise you, we're going to find him. We won't stop until we do."

...

Rose had returned home by the weekend, bringing with her tons of pictures of Daisy's new baby. Misty had acknowledged how cute her new nephew was, of course, but she hadn't seemed as happy as she normally did about it. At first, Rose chalked it up to pregnancy hormones, but when Misty left the room to give Fiona her bath, Brock looked over at her.

"Rose, I don't want to scare you, but we discovered something while you were gone," Brock told her, and he explained everything. Tracey Sketchit stalking Misty, the connected tunnels in between their closets, which was going to cost him a lot of money to fix. He told her about the drawings, even the gruesome one that depicted Misty's murder.

"If I ever see that son of a bitch, I really will kill him," Brock said, his anger was apparent. "He better hope the police find him before I do."

"The police are after him?" Rose asked.

"Hot on his trail," Brock nodded, gratefully. "They say he fled south, towards Pallet, but they have alerted police everywhere. Even in Johto and Hoenn. The bastard isn't getting away with what he's done."

Rose nervously played with her hands in her lap and she stood up. "I must be going to bed soon. I've traveled all day."

"Of course. Just try to relax. He's gone now." He smiled at her and she smiled back. Brock was so handsome, so charismatic, so charming. That's why she felt sympathy for Tracey, who tried so hard to get the girl he loved, and he had failed because he was competing in a competition he couldn't win.

Where could he have gone? Why did he give into his desires? She told him not to, she knew this would happen. He had always been a compulsive boy, and now he was really in trouble. She tried to reach him on his cell phone, but it was no longer in service. She had bought him a phone a long while ago while he was at the hospital, but Tracey had failed to maintain his bill, and now he was out there, somewhere without a way to contact her.

Rose fell into bed, and smelled the pillow where Flint Harrison used to lay. It still smelled like him and she began to cry. The men in her life always disappeared. That's why she was so jealous of her daughter, who was young, beautiful, a great mother, and had a handsome husband that wouldn't leave her for anything or anyone in the world.