You're Like Coming Home

61.

They'd been having a nice evening and then Derek had gone off the deep end the minute her professor gave her a friendly smile, and one thing had led to another and she hadn't even told him she loved him. She still loved him, of course she did, but he had obviously needed to hear her say it, and she couldn't even work up the courage to do that for him.

The apartment was silent, and she sighed deeply as she walked into the kitchen, hoping that he hadn't packed up and left her. She had no idea what she would do if that happened, but she wouldn't blame him. If he stopped telling her he loved her...she didn't even want to think about the emotions that she would feel if that happened.

As she pulled open a cabinet to get a glass out, her eyes landed on a note on the counter.

Went to see Dad.

She inhaled deeply as she looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears. No name. No cheesy heart. No instructions for where she could find a breakfast that he had left for her.

No I love you.

She slammed the cupboard door shut as she stormed over to the couch, curling into a ball as she allowed the tears to come.

Derek never went to see his dad like this unless something was really wrong. He went every time they made it to his mom's house for dinner, and of course on both of their birthdays and Christmas and Thanksgiving. But the last time Derek had left out of the blue like this had been four years earlier, when he'd crashed that stupid motorcycle and nearly died. And the fight they'd had at that point in time paled in comparison to where they were now.

She took a shaky breath as she stood and made her way back to the kitchen, hoping that a glass of water would help her tears. She made it halfway to the kitchen before she froze, seeing an envelope sitting on the floor in front of the door, one that definitely hadn't been there only minutes before. Someone had slid something under the door, and although the police had assured her that they had her stalker in jail, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

She ran over to the curtains and pulled them shut quickly before she walked cautiously over to the door, standing over the envelope for a moment before she reached down and picked it up, slowly opening it and pulling out more pictures.

Except these were of Derek. And they had been tampered with.

The picture of Derek shaving over the sink in their bathroom showed a pool of red in the sink, blood instead of water.

Derek making French toast showed his entire front on fire.

She and Derek in bed, his expression one that she had seen millions of times, his head thrown back in pleasure as her mouth worked to please him. At the bottom of the picture were two words written in blood red.

I'm next.

The last picture made her want to run to the trash can and empty her stomach. A close up of Derek as he slept soundly, which had obviously been taken by whoever had been in their apartment the week before. A noose had been drawn around his neck, and at the bottom of the picture was written So long, Shepherd.

Meredith threw the pictures onto the counter, unable to look at them any longer. Tears filled her eyes as she reached for the phone, needing to have a word with these so called detectives.

"Meredith Shepherd for Detective White," she said, trying to control her voice.

As she was put on hold, she stared at the closed curtains, wondering how anyone had even been able to take these pictures. They'd made sure to keep them securely closed all the time so nothing like this would happen. But then it dawned on her.