Chasing Anne

More Trouble

Mark slowly approached the door to Jackson's hotel room. He knew he had to make things right between him and his best friend, but right now he really didn't want to. Yes, he'd been an idiot, and yes, he'd blown everything out of proportion, but...he really didn't want to say sorry for his mistake. Mark chided himself. He had to do this. There was no question in that. If he was going to save Anne, he couldn't do it alone and with Bartholomew gone, Jackson and Cindy were all he had left.

After praying with him, Pastor Duncan had left for his church service. He'd urged Mark to come with him, but Mark had just shook his head and said that he needed to resolve his dilemma with Jackson first. Steven had said that he understood, but he still wanted Mark to at least come to the church after he'd resolved his argument. Mark had said he would try, but he couldn't promise anything. And so now, here he was, standing at Jackson's doorstep. He reached out his hand to knock, taking a deep breath. It was now or never. His knuckles rapped against the wooden door and almost instantly, the door opened and Cindy Taylor appeared, her eyes tearful. Mark's face become concerned.

"Cindy, are you-."

"Come inside, Mark," Cindy interrupted, her eyes lighting up slightly. "Jackson will want to see you."

"I'm not so sure about that. I-."

"Come inside, Markus," Cindy insisted.

Mark sighed and complied, walking into the small hotel suite. Jackson wasn't in sight, but Cindy took his arm and began to lead him towards the living room. Mark hesitated. "Cindy," he tried again. "What's wrong?"

Cindy just shook her head and tugged on his arm, urging him to come into the living room. "Please, Mark," she whispered.

Mark again gave in and complied, walking into the living room. But as soon as the two entered the room, Mark froze, his feet becoming glued to the floor. His eyes glazed over as if he were about to faint, but just as he began to fall backward, Jackson grabbed his arm and stood him upright.

"Easy, Normand. There's nothing to be afraid of."

But there was. For standing at the opposite end of the room beside a large blue sofa, was Bartholomew. Clad completely in police uniform, the man's gaze seemed stone hard and angry. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were fixed coldly on Mark's face.

"B-Bartholomew," Mark stuttered, his eyes widening. "You're alive!"

Bartholomew nodded, but said nothing, only changing his gaze's direction and instead resting it on Jackson. Jackson nodded and stood, backing towards Cindy and taking her hand. Cindy took a firm grip on her husband's hand and bit her lip, following him out of the room. Mark didn't want them to leave. Not at a time like this! He needed the support from both of them to get through the battle he faced. Why did Bartholomew want them to leave? The couple was soon gone and just as the door clicked shut after them, Bartholomew relaxed and let his arms drop to his sides.

"How are you, Normand?" he asked.

Mark raised his injured arm. "I've been better."

Bartholomew nodded. "Forgive me for not keeping you safe. I had no idea that cables in the elevator were going to go out."

Mark shook his head. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. You almost died for me!"

Bartholomew shrugged and turned to the window, re-crossing his arms. "When did the doctor say the cast could come off?"

"A few months at best."

Bartholomew nodded. "Then Raymond has the upper hand already. Listen, I've enlisted us a little bit of help."