Jake stared at Lucy in disbelief. "O? As in the serial killer O?"

Lucy nodded, swallowing the lump of sadness that was lodged in her throat.

Jake looked away from her. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Why would I joke about this?" Lucy asked, taking a step closer to him.

"I don't know. I just asked you to marry me and you're telling me no because of some murderer that's out on the loose. Does this make any sense? What does he have to do with us?"

"Because he's after me, Jake!"

"Why would he be after you? Does that make any sense to you? Because it doesn't make sense to me. If you don't want to marry me, just say so."

"I do want to marry you. I love you, Jake."

"I bet I'm the only guy that's been rejected because of a serial killer."

"Are you even listening to me? I'm telling you that I have a serial killer after me!" Lucy watched as Jake closed the velvet box and put it in his pocket. "Jake, I love you."

"It's all right, Lucy. In a way I kind of expected this. My buddies told me it was probably hard for you to be without me for a week at a time. They warned me that it ruins relationships. I guess I should've listened."

"Why won't you believe me?"

"Because I don't understand you."

"I have to tell you the truth. I'm sorry I kept it from you, but I was afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Yes. I was afraid to tell you what was going on because I was afraid that you'd get angry with me."

Jake waited for her to continue. Lucy took a deep breath. "Remember that antique desk I found? Well, I found something in it. A diary."

"A diary?"

"Yes. A diary. And it had some secrets written in it. Lots of secrets."

"Did you read it?" Jake asked.

"I did," she whispered.

"What kind?" Jake asked.

"What kind of what?"

"What kind of secrets? You said it had secrets. What kind? Like secrets about people having affairs? Government secrets? What kind?"

"Secrets about murder," Lucy answered. "At first I thought it was by a wannabe writer. But they were all signed O."

"Like the serial killer," Jake whispered.

"Like the serial killer," Lucy confirmed. "It had dates of when he killed people and places too."

Jake looked at her as if she had grown a second head. "Did you give it to the cops?"

"Not at first," Lucy admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"I read some of it before I gave it to the police."

"Why didn't you turn it in right away?"

She shrugged. "I don't know but I didn't. I guess I got a little obsessed with reading the diary."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jake asked in a low voice.

"I was embarrassed that I didn't turn it in to the police right away. I didn't want you to think I was making another big mistake."

"So, you kept this all hidden from me? You were obsessed with the diary of a serial killer and decided to keep it a secret? Why would you keep reading something written by a serial killer?"

"I don't know. A part of me felt like I could relate to him. Not the killing part but the being alone. The insecurity. Not having control of your life. I understood all of that."

"Are you saying you felt connected to him?" Jake asked, his voice low.

Lucy bit her bottom lip. "In a way."

Jake turned his back to her and shook his head. "I'm your boyfriend and you couldn't tell me what was going on?"

"I didn't know how. I thought you'd be angry that I didn't go to the cops right away."

"That still doesn't explain why you won't marry me."

"Because he knows I had his diary! Now, he's after me! The brick in the window and the writing on the glass. That was him, Jake! He's going to kill me!"

"Lucy-"

"No! Don't try and placate me. If you get too close to me, he'll probably kill you too."

"I'm not afraid of him!"

"Don't be stupid, Jake. He's a murderer!"

"So what? We'll get a gun. Just say you'll marry me, Lucy! I'll protect you. With my life if I have to."

"No! I'm not marrying you."

Before Jake could say another word, Lucy fled the hotel room. She was crying and could hear him chasing after her as the elevator doors closed. She got off on the next floor and waited a few minutes. If Jake was chasing after her, he wouldn't find her. She needed to settle her thoughts before facing him again.

Dillon sat on the cold floor of his loft, looking up at the painting of his brother, Brandon Sheffield. Killed behind a convenience store years ago, he was now gone. The guilt of his brother's death was what had stopped him from drinking. He couldn't mix alcohol with his medications. The psychiatrist said it wouldn't be safe.

"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault. You're innocent," he kept whispering to himself. Those were the words he was told years ago.

He stood up, his left hand not letting go of the folder that he carried. The folder he stole from Lucy's house. He had just wanted answers. Why had she been at the Forester estate? Had she been spying on him? The thought angered him. He thought Lucy was his friend. Did she not trust him?

He looked at the painting with its red background and thought of blood. He lifted the bottle of whiskey he had to his right and took a sip.

"All this time," Dillon muttered as a single tear slid down his cheek. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and sighed. "It ends tonight."

He pushed his right hand out and punched the painting. Then he kicked it to the ground and began ripping the canvas with his foot, eradicating the memory he associated with his brother. When he was finished, his anger still hadn't subsided and one by one, he began destroying all of his paintings.

He walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. "Who are you?"

He opened the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of Zyprexa that he didn't always take. He tossed the pills in the trash and walked out to the living room. He pulled out his cell phone and waited for the other person to answer.

"It's not a good time right now, Dillon."

"Lucy?" His voice sounded rough and desperate.

"Dillon? What's wrong?"

"Lucy I need to see you."

"Now isn't the best time."

"I said I need to see you! It's important!" Dillon yelled into the phone.

"Dillon?" Lucy asked. "Your voice sounds-"

"Just get here, Lucy!"

"Fine. I'll be there. I hope everything's okay. Where did you want to meet? Should I call anyone? Your sponsor? Donna?"

"No. I don't want you to call anyone. Just meet me at my loft."

"Okay, fine. I'll meet you there."

Dillon disconnected the call and closed his eyes. He would get to the bottom of things. "It ends tonight, Lucy. It ends tonight."

Holden had been debating on whether or not he should call Lucy. He wanted to know what was going on with her. He guessed that Lucy probably left his cousin's home to go with her boyfriend.

He looked at his cell phone and noticed there weren't any new messages.

"Of course, she didn't text you. Why would she? She's with her boyfriend you idiot," Holden scolded himself. He decided to just give her a call. He wiped his sweaty palms against his pants and dialed her number, with the expectation of having to leave a message.

"Hello?" Lucy's voice felt comforting to him for some reason he didn't understand.

"Lucy? It's me, Holden. Detective Lahr."

She didn't say anything, so he continued, "I was just calling to check on you. I'm guessing you left Donna's house, right?"

"Just for a moment."

"Huh?" Holden didn't understand.

"I left with Jake but I'm going back to Donna's."

"You are?" surprise filled his voice.

"Yeah."

"So, you're on your way to Donna's house now?"

"No. I'm going to meet Dillon first. I think he's relapsed. He sounded horrible on the phone," Lucy answered.

"Should I meet you there?" Holden asked.

"What for? I don't think your being there would help. He doesn't like you."

"Gee thanks," Holden said dryly.

"Sorry. Listen it's been a rough night for me, and I need to check on Dillon. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Holden waited for her to disconnect the call and was about to put his phone in his back pocket when it rang again.

"Hey, Cruz. What's up?"

"Lahr, where are you at?" Vicki Cruz, Holden's partner, asked.

"I'm heading towards my cousin's house. Why?"

"Forensics just gave me a call about the journal Lucy gave us."

"Yeah. Did you check for prints? Did you find anything?"

"Lahr, you're not going to believe this," Vicki said. She went on to tell Holden exactly what forensics had found in the journal.

After hearing Vicki tell him what was found, he cursed and attempted to call Lucy, but she didn't answer. He cursed again and ran to his car. He needed to get to Lucy as soon as possible.