Break My Heart Again by Finneas. Welcome, enjoy my Madness

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Present

IT WAS THE RIGHT building on the right street and in the right town, finally. He looked up at the folded piece of damp paper in his hands, level with his gaze. It should have been a text message or an email on his mobile, in the modern-day and age when every little thing seemed to be associated with technology, but he took pleasure in the simple things like pen and paper.

"Never thought I would be back here," He said under his breath, stowing the folded paper in the breast pocket of his coat, taking in all the changes to the refurbished cafe-noting that nothing had really changed in his absence. It was still the safe haven he remembered it being. He grunted, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat.

Foreboding storm clouds thwarted the Sun, rain drizzled effortlessly, the OPEN sign of the cafe, La Balise, shone like a beacon in the eye of a storm-a sign of humbled humanity in a senseless world. Yes, he hummed with satisfaction, it was the perfect neutral territory to meet this reporter-what was her name? Sweet gal, he thought. Clouds and thunder were brewing, they were in for a doozy.

Laying a folded ten-dollar bill beside his mug, he thanked the waiter for the fresh pot of coffee and checked the time; he had some time to spare and tipped his hat brim as he laid it on the empty seat beside him. As he poured the steaming black brew, he remembered a time when he shared latte dates with someone, bitterly reminding himself that he poured for one. He lost himself in the rising steam tornado, letting the warmth seep into him, he turned to look through the torrential rain drenching the streets of Seattle.

"Mr. Laurence," The waiter re-emerged with a small plate, a blueberry scone offering, and placed it beside the full carafe. Mr. Laurence smirked, a satisfied grunt. "Compliments of the owner," With that, the waiter returned behind the bar.

Mr. Laurence checked his wristwatch compulsively, he still had the time and pulled his mobile from his pocket, he briefly checked for any news and laid it beside his empty mug. A whiff of doubt hit him, and he frantically began patting the pockets of his coat, anxiety rising to an all-new high until his fingers felt the bulge through the inside pocket of his coat. The journal, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. It was safe.

Exhaling with relief, he went over his mental checklist of the things he was prepared to tell her, of the story that had been half crafted-like an unfinished basement. Exposed beams and unrefined cement. He did not want to tell the journalist anything, he had argued with his legal team for far too many days about it, finally concluding he would talk to her, give his side of the story-on his terms. He had the right to withhold anything from the press that he fancied.

He did not recall at what point exactly it had been when he had gotten to the breaking point; since the first stage of failure, his mobile had been on a constant ring. Reporters camped outside of his home, daily incessant reminders on the radio, eager onlookers.

I still cannot forget the taste of burnt coffee, honey, and a little bit of rum, he thought as his mind roamed to a place in time he had locked up.

The slight creak of wood as the rain pitter-pattered its way down the windowsill reminded him of how much he had missed the city he called home. He was a grown man, hiding in the shadows of his twisted past, what was the use in pretending it had never happened?

Mr. Laurence flicked his eyes in the direction of the entrance, a petite woman scanned the place sceptically, narrowed her line of sight on him, and approached. She had done her research, knowing what he must look like, he did not know whether to be impressed or unnerved. He shoved himself out of the booth and stood to greet her, offering his assistance with her heavy raincoat.

Once they were seated, he studied the young woman across from him, he was well-met-she openly studied him, critically taking in every detail. Macie Lockhart was a wraith of a woman, green eyes with a delicate blunt bob, her blonde hair a compliment to her fresh appearance.

Aside from the palpable air of condescension wafting off her, Mr. Laurence appreciated her no-nonsense approach. She was not ruthless, but still somehow managed to do her job expertly, for her followers and subscribers.

Macie sized up the man of mystery; his attire suited his brooding personality; she could just sense it. She appreciated the way the man could fill dark jeans and a v neck, his coat-jacket seemed tasteful, especially how his muscles looked ready to burst through the seams. The final things she noticed that were worth noting were the old-style Superman thicker black-rimmed glasses that suited his face, and the faint glint of a ring on a chain around his neck.

From the way Mr. Laurence was able to easily grab the attention of the staff and nearby patrons, it was evident that he was one of those few gifted people that knew how to control a room, who's overwhelmingly charming presence demands attention.

Macie prepared herself for the interview by cleaning out the carafe, he derailed her for a fresh pot, then satisfied, let her start. She licked her lips for the umpteenth time that morning and nervously pressed START on the recorder, her nerves evading her self-control. She would accept nothing but the clear-concise truth and a play-by-play of the events leading up to the dreadful day.

"Let's start with you, the man, the myth, the legend. One could say you could have prevented the deaths of those women-though I am in no way implying that you are responsible," Macie clarified quickly, raising a hand defensively.

Mr. Laurence smirked ruefully, an unfriendly glint in his stark green eyes, he shifted the saucer away from him and laced his fingers together in front of him.

"One might," He affirmed, a touch insulted. His eyes met hers over the smoky haze, her cheeks were suffused with colour, visibly caught off guard. "I did not believe it would end that way. We had planned out our futures together; everything seems to fall into place before the chaos ensues," His voice dipped low.

"After everything came to light and went to trial and I was free to leave the country, I had a small practice in Germany," He took a long drag, casually cuffing the end of his jacket sleeve.

"That is completely understandable under the circumstances. How did you feel, knowing all that time that her frantic search would end like that, watching her suffer?" Maci provided with narrowed eyes, treading the thin line with trepidation and sympathy.

"It is indeed a fact I have had to acknowledge and live with. What can I say in my defence, I was in love? I still am, she was only the love of my life," Smooth jazz permeated the cafe, she took a tentative look up at his strikingly chiselled face to gauge his emotion, but if he was hurting his neutral expression gave nothing away.

As they spoke, they vaguely noticed that the fog outside had picked up and they could barely see across the street. Macie could see it, cautiously, at first, from her peripheral: he had been living his life like something crucial had been missing.

"Life for us Laurence's' was never simple or easy, that it was amplified when Diane Ward entered our lives is an understatement,'' Mr. Laurence's gravelly voice pinged Macie from her running thoughts and she swallowed visibly, racking her brain for questions.

Mr. Laurence, when he had greeted her, stood an impressive foot above her and had at least ten years on her. Not intimidating, Macie thought with a calming breath.

"Tell me, how did you meet? What were your first impressions-and be honest," Macie finally managed, staring dreamily into the steam from her mug. Mr. Laurence pressed his lips together in a thin rueful line, nodding as if to himself.

"What can I say? Diane Ward was vibrancy itself. Unassumingly beautiful, spirited, and free-willed-she had this contagious personality. My world never felt the same after she timorously walked into my life, she fit into my little world, stretching the mould that I had so carefully crafted around me. She pushed it and made it fuller simply by being there," Mr. Laurence adopted a faraway look, in his intense eyes, Macie garnered the smallest glimpse of the rawest, most tender emotion.

"Ward was one of those women who looked like she was made of honey and glass; she gave too much of herself at her own expense, she never knew when she was all gone."

Macie nodded deliberately, her slender fingers hovering over her mug as she conjured up an image of what the infamous Diana must have looked, dancing in the rain with her clothes on, drenched to the bone as a past time.

"I would go about my job, she never felt like she had to attract my attention, and the relationship just happened. Suddenly it was coffee in the morning over pillow talk. I had never felt such strong emotions with another woman-not wanting to wake someone just so you could watch them sleep. I know how that may sound, but that was how it was," He inhaled deeply as if he could not get enough of it and held it.

"It sounds cliche, but she had this intangible quality; it empowered me-but the part of her that was less than," He paused, searching for a suitable word. "Kosher, it gave me pause. She was afraid, she actually thought that I was going to take her freedom away-which, I cannot say I did not," He let out a bitter chuckle, his voice had deepened into a huskier version of itself.

Macie's eyes flitted between him and the recorder, weighing whether or not she should keep this part off the record-for decency' sake.

"On the outside, people saw her as strong and courageous, but underneath all of those fabricated layers, she was just angry and confused-I am not sure she had any," He paused and sought out Macie's dewy eyes, under the guise of letting her arrange her notes, he composed himself. "Real self-control. We separated a few times, but nothing ever stuck. I learned that sometimes you need to lose someone to be able to find your way back to them, when we got back together that last time, I knew who she needed me to be. She did not need me to question her about Larson."

Macie's eyes widened; she laid her coffee on the softwood table. "The captain of the police?" The words left her mouth in a hushed whisper, too shocked for words. The patrons turned their attention on them briefly as she dropped her spoon and it clattered to the floor.

"Yes," He answered with a hint of amusement, he bent to pick up the spoon and set it aside. "Your utensil rights have been stripped," He said easily as he sat back in his seat. Macie rolled her eyes and set her pen aside, raising her hands defensively.

"Diane needed me to be stable, I became that person for her. It's hard, you know, being strong and solid for someone else's sake. There are limits, but I needed her. I ache for her," He said in a deep voice, watching headlights flicker through the fog.

When Macie did not respond, he tilted his head up to get a better look at her, she faced the bar and refused to look at him. "Listen, I know how this may sound, who I am talking about. Diane Ward is responsible for taking a lot of lives, and that can never be undone, but it was-is my fault too," He finally cajoled her into facing him, a look of indignation written on her tense features.

"Romanticizing a murderer is not why I am here, I-" Macie started, but he cut her off. "Miss Lockhart, was it?" By the tone of his voice, it was clear he was taking the power back. Her cheeks flushed, but he only smiled softly in return. "I offered you full disclosure. We are not here to romanticise, but you want the truth. Let me tell it my way, let me do this right," He finished, lifting his mug to his lips.

"I have to say, this is the most honest conversation I have had in a while," Macie replied. "Why did you never tell her?" She asked, her voice almost tearful, for someone who had been following the case eagerly since it had its bad beginning in 2003, she had an emotional connection.

"Thinking back on it now, it was a grim time, I should have been honest. I could feel it-after the incident at the precinct, she began seeing their psychiatrist, it was like she slowly began to check out. The more she remembered of her past, the more time she spent with Larson-I have to admit that I wondered a few times if she had been sleeping with him." He scratched his arm absently, shirking off Macie's sympathies.

"From the moment the first body turned up, they questioned her as they had in '03, Schmitt said it triggered her-sent her into a dark place. I think the worst part is that she honestly believed no one could love her, but one thing is certain. Nobody will love her as I do. Kissing her is like tasting poison because when it is gone, you are too," He finished, staring into the fog to evade her gaze.

Macie sat back in her seat and exhaled, staring at the table as she wondered how it had turned so emotional that quickly. Had she been right to call Diana Ward a killer? She was there to find out. "Damn. I am sorry for your loss. I certainly don't know that there is anything I can say to make things better," She said in a sympathetic voice, leaning forward in a familiar way.

"Or at least, make things a little better. I have heard talking makes it a little bit easier," She offered, her rouge lips pulled tight at the corners in a genuine smile.

Mr. Laurence glanced down at his mobile and turned it face down. That must be the fifth call he has ignored, Macie calculated, I wonder if it is-

He flicked his hand, grabbing her attention. "I thought I lost you," He teased, a quick sharp smile and then it was gone. "Now, for what you really came for. Everyone in these United States must have, at some point or other, heard of October thirteenth. I am going to tell you why."

The warmth from the mug in his hands did nothing to fight off the cold, in another time he might have felt relief. "Diane Ward was an investigative journalist which allowed her to work closely with the police on the case, most of the officers knew her by her alias, Hailey Grant," He paused, fixated on the pouring rain, thinking of a rainy night in his car.

"At the time, she was in witness protection and her location was meant to be on a need-to-know basis. It was around the time that she was attacked at our gated community, I came close to giving it up-I felt lost, but what could I do? There were things that she had to find out for herself, I helped her as much as I could," He said.

The barista's fingers tightened the knot of his apron, raising his head at the sound of the bell when a younger couple entered the cafe. Macie stepped out of the ladies' room and surveyed her surroundings, her tempered body edging past the couple as she strode towards her booth.

Mr. Laurence, enraptured with his mobile, set his jaw, a perturbed expression had settled on his handsome face. "Do we need a recess?" Macie asked, snapping him out of his trance. "No," His reply came in a husky growl, he set his personal emotions aside. "You took too long, and don't roll your eyes at me," He added, a crooked grin across his pleasant features.

Macie scoffed and barely had time to stop her eyes from rolling. How does he do that? He is not even looking at me and he knows what I am doing, what I am about to do, Macie chewed her straw and clicked on the recorder.

Mr. Laurence checked the time on his mobile, half-past eight, before setting it aside. There was a particular sort of ambience that could be said of the cafe, a haven and time capsule wrapped up in one.

"What was it like, the moment you found her in the water?" Macie asked quietly.

"Like oxygen is falling through your lungs. You are suspended in time, nothing makes sense, there is no one to blame. For a moment, you lose hope only to find it in the next wave of seconds that slams into you," His soft almost-tearful expression tugged at Macie's chest. What a man, she thought to herself.

"A few short days after I had been pulled out of surgery by Captain Larson, Lieutenant Ron McKinley had been busy with my brother, my assumption at the time was that Diane did it because she couldn't live with the truth getting out. I thought she would be safer at the house; I gave her the distance she required. I was wrong," His eyes misted, something caught in his throat.

Patrons were forming a steady line at the counter, Seattle had come alive around them, serenaded by the sounds of steady rain and indie music over the muffled speaker system.

"Ward was not a hundred per cent positive of the events that played out after that night; it was unlike anything I have ever gone through. The accusation, the prosecution, all the bodies of those poor women turning up the way they did-it was like some cosmic joke. A poorly conducted play."

"Did you ever find yourself refuting the claims she brought against him?" Macie asked with a soft crinkle between her eyebrows.

"I am almost ashamed to admit I did. No one wants to believe that their closest loved ones can be capable of things of that nature. Lies like that can ruin a persons' life, Diane understood that; she was not in it for revenge. throughout she was only ever interested in helping to solve the string of murders. Secrets are often a lot like life; exciting or devastating, no matter how hard you try to keep them, they will end eventually."

"That's a bit dark, Mr. cynicism. How do you get up in the morning?" Macie asked not unkindly. Mr. Laurence's ethereal green eyes glinted over the brim of his sleek glasses, he chewed the side of his tongue and nodded thoughtfully.

"It broke my parents to see that side of him when, to them, his entire life he had been a charming, witty and gentle soul. He was always ahead in his classes, he never boasted about it, kind was he."

"I want to take you back to the moment Diana allegedly assaulted the officer inside the precinct. There were many eye-witnesses, can you comment?" She asked, sandwiching her fingers together.

"In my family, we called those moments 'Dark Diana,' because she would be so impulsive when she slipped into her fugues. You never knew what you were going to get. She played me like a guitar, feigning ignorance from that moment on." He finished, a tenacious smirk playing on his features.

"The moment I met her, up until and even after she left, I ached for her," He said after a break to check equipment. "If only I had known the words to say to make it better. All of the mistakes I made, I made with my brothers' safety in mind."

"We have all day. December twenty-third," Macie said with a click of her tongue. His smile was contagious, he set his mug down and unceremoniously uncrossed his arms. "D-Day."

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Preview

Nuzzled into Erik's favourite pair of sheets was the unmistakable figure of a young woman

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