They got him. An uneasy thrill settles in Harry's stomach. "Thank you, Lucy, we'll be right there."
He leans into the truck to hook the radio back into its hold, but the damn thing won't catch on. "Cooper, they found Gerard near the waterfall," he calls over his shoulder to his friend. "They're waiting for us – better go."
In another world, that damn radio would have hooked on without a hitch. Coop would have replied. Harry would have been watching right up until the FBI agent was safe in the passenger seat, leaving Leland standing there with a golfclub and a sad smile.
But by the time he steps clear of the door, Harry is alone on the road. Coop and Leland are nowhere to be seen, the latter's car still idling, trunk wide open.
"Coop?" His own voice grates against his ears in the sudden silence. "Cooper?"
Nothing. Harry strides towards the abandoned car, faltering when he sees the golfclub abandoned on the asphalt. He stops short.
There's blood on the metal head. Harry snatches his gun from its holster, heart pounding even as his feet seem set on getting the hell away from that club. "Cooper!" He shouts, gaze sweeping the forest around him.
His eye is caught by a note stuck in a groove between the trunk and the body of the car, and without hesitation, he all but springs towards it. It doesn't take much of a tug to dislodge it, and he straightens the paper, scanning the words scrawled on it.
If you wanT to See LELAND and AGENT Cooper ALIvE again, LOOK foR the DECIEVER whos got you FRoM tHe start
BOB.
Blood. Blood on the edge of the torn paper with the muddled writing. Blood in the empty trunk. Harry only just stops himself from crumpling the paper as he hurries back to his truck, pulling out the radio. "Lucy! Lucy, are you there?"
The seconds tick by agonisingly slowly before the radio crackles.
"Yes, Sherrif?"
"Lucy, I need you to get Hawk – everyone nearby down here now."
He gives her the name of the road and then all there is to do is pace, reading and re-reading the crimson-stained note, praying it's not Cooper's blood.
He finds himself in a spinning world of throbbing agony, darkness pulsing in his vision. Cooper isn't sure how much time has passed since the impact to his head. Enough that every time some semblance of consciousness returns to him, the sky is slightly darker than the previous time.
Exhaustion weighs heavy on him. Logically, that must be the concussion. He's abruptly shaken from his musings when the hand on the back of his coat collar suddenly releases him, and with a painful thump, he hits the ground. Leaves. He's still in the forest, that much he can tell even before he dares cracking an eye open.
Leland leans over him, momentarily nothing but an indistinguishable blur in his vision. For a split second, that face morphs into something else. A sick, twisted face that he recognises. One that sends all the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place, and it's already too late.
Bob.
He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the pounding headache to abate so he can gather his wits. He can't afford to be in this state now. He needs to get out of here, needs to get back to Harry. Because he's finally figured it out.
"Agent Cooper…" a low, coaxing voice breaks through the haze. He wishes it wouldn't bounce around in his head like a broken record.
He shifts, managing to turn, to get his hands under himself so painstakingly slowly. He pushes himself up, staggering to his feet clumsily, the sudden rush of movement sending daggers through his skull. Why are his limbs so heavy?
When the world's spinning eases, he finds himself leaning against a tree, footsteps softly shifting the leaves somewhere behind him.
"Do you think you can run, Agent Cooper?"
Cooper clenches his jaw, managing to push himself off the tree and take a few jerky steps forward before wood slams into the back of his leg. Suddenly, his feet can no longer hold his weight, and he crashes back to the ground, darkness pulsing dangerously in his vision.
"Well you can't," the voice has changed. It's hissing, sharp. A hand closes in on the back of his neck and with uncanny strength, hauls him upward. "Look. Look at her."
His eyes focus on a black bag before him, his heart sinking even before he sees the slender, lifeless hand hanging out from it.
"LOOK!" The voice bellows in his ear, dragging him closer, the man's free hand pulling back the open zipper to reveal the bloodied face of—
Laura Palmer?
Cooper can't stop the ragged gasp that forces its way out of his throat. Not Laura Palmer. He struggles to remember the name through the haze – her cousin.
Madeline. Madeline Ferguson.
"You couldn't stop us," Bob hisses in his ear. "Poor, poor Leland. He's too far gone now. Making him kill his little Laura was a special treat, after all…"
His gun. He can still feels its weight in the holster. He begins to reach for it…
"I didn't hear anything. No car, no shouting. Nothin'."
Harry can almost sense Hawk's thoughtful nod, even though he can't see him. He lifts his head out of his hands and fixes his glare on Gerard. "You can tell us what happened, right? With that, what was it, sixth sense of yours?"
The one-armed man shrugs. "Bob has been here."
"Well we know that!" Harry growls, pointing to the note, now in Hawk's gloved hand.
"Harry," Hawk returns sharply, but not unkindly. "We will get them both back."
Harry nods tightly, wishing he could trust that sentiment. If Bob killed Laura, and now he has Coop…
"How could he have taken Cooper so easily?" He grinds out, finally. "I was right there."
At that moment, a gunshot rings out. Harry leaps to his feet, already ahead of even Hawk as they sprint in the direction of the shot, Hawk all but dragging Gerard along. That was Cooper's gun, Harry's more sure of that than he's ever been of anything in his life. Through the trees, almost slipping on the slick leaves, straining to see in the gathering darkness.
He's short of breath by the time he breaks out from the foliage into a clearing and has to stop, his lungs burning. But that's not what makes him stop – it's a gun. Definitely Coop's gun. And, lying about a foot away, is a scrap of torn beige fabric with something small, black, lying on top of it.
Hawk materialises behind him, given away by Gerard's feet skidding clumsily through the leaves.
"That's from his coat," his deputy points out, of the fabric. Harry doesn't reply, but his heart sinks at Hawk's confirmation of his thoughts. He strides over to the abandoned things, lifting the flap of the black wallet.
Cooper's picture stares back at him. "It's his ID," he states flatly, rising. "They were here. Just now."
He draws his gun, his gaze roving around the small clearing. "Look. They went that way." The leaves are disturbed in an uneven line. Harry draws his gun as he hurries along it, watching the trees ahead, praying to catch even a glimpse of Cooper or where they went.
Instead, the trees begin to thin, and suddenly he's on a road.
"Damn," he curses under his breath, turning both ways. No sign of anything. He turns back towards the woods as Hawk emerges, and pauses. There's a black bag in a ditch a couple feet away from where he just came.
Harry carefully steps forward, his heart sinking, though he doesn't entirely know why.
That is, not until he sees the blood-stained plastic sticking out of it, something pale beneath the plastic. No. Not again.
He shares a glance with Hawk. As he moves closer, he can see a hand just about visible under a flap of plastic. Taking a steadying breath, Harry crouches, and lifts the flap of plastic.
Déjà vu washes over him, and he feels sick.
"It's Maddy Ferguson," he says in a low voice, unable to tear his gaze away from the young woman's face. He's struck by how much she looks like Laura, and he sits back on his heels, dragging a hand over his face, praying that when he opens his eyes it will all have been some horrible daydream, or nightmare.
"Sheriff."
He must have been sitting there like that for a long time, judging by the tone of Hawk's voice. He's tired. This week has been nothing but one hell after another, and now even Coop…
"Get Doc Hayward down here," he orders. "And bring Gerard back to the hotel. Nail the windows shut and keep him guarded at all times."
"Sheriff Truman—" Gerard protests, but Hawk hauls him off without another word, down the road. Harry straightens, casting a long glance around, as if maybe he'll suddenly know where Cooper is. I could really use some of your genius right now, Coop.