POV: Alex

Regret.

Panic.

Dread.

...Relief.

I couldn't put my current feelings all into one word. I'd just killed a man.

Not just any man either. Bob Paris; a man I've known from a very young age. I practically grew up with the guy for Christ's sake, and he was dead by my hands. The fact that he was a callous, perverted bastard was the only thing keeping me from feeling entirely remorseful.

My history with Bob went way back, so far that I can actually remember a time where we was a respectable human being. That was a very long time ago. We both used to discuss our fathers in such a negative way, yet Bob ended up becoming pretty much a carbon copy of his. I didn't give in, and vowed i'd never become like my dad. Bob disapproved of that, treated me like I was beneath him ever since. Pulling people's strings was like a hobby for him; he got a kick out of it. It was only a matter of time before he pissed someone off just a little too much, and that was exactly what happened in this case. He touched on two of the things he knew very well would get me worked up; my dad, and Norma Bates.

All i'd been doing-all I could do for the past hour was sit at home in the pitch black, the only sound throughout the whole house being the pouring of whiskey. My lips had barely touched the rim of the glass when I was interrupted by the loud buzzing noise of my phone ringing. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, and I honestly didn't want to look at the name on the screen. Barely anyone called me at this time of night. In fact, barely anyone called me at all-but that wasn't relevant here.

Reaching for my phone, I held it upright and allowed my eyes to adjust to the overwhelmingly bright screen. When I finally saw the name displayed, I let out a groan and rubbed my forehead in distress. Norma. I took a moment to compose myself, knowing I couldn't act unnatural or she'd easily suspect something. Swiping the green button to answer the call, I lifted my phone to my ear. "Norma. Everything alright?"

"Hey, uhm. Well-not really, no. I-uhm..." Her voice seemed like it was getting caught in her throat, clearly struggling to form her words.

"Slow down. Tell me what's going on." I set my untouched whiskey down on the coffee table and sat forward slightly in my seat, eagerly awaiting her explanation.

There was a slight pause, which I assumed was her attempting to compose herself. Her voice returned seconds later, still merely a whisper but a tad calmer and easier to understand. "It's Norman. He's missing. I wanted to believe that he was just mad and needed some air-but it's been a few hours now, and he's not back."

"Well I can't file a missing person's report fo-"

"24 hours, I know. Look, i'm not calling you about this because you're the Sheriff-i'm calling you about this because you're Alex, and I trust you. I'm so worried about him. It's a big ask, because it's really late. But please...please come and help me."

She sounded so helpless-just like she had earlier when speaking of Norman's condition. It was late, and frankly, I couldn't be doing with this tonight. But she had this way of pulling you in, persuading you. I had to go and help her. Getting up from my seat, I threw on my leather jacket and grabbed my keys. "Stay calm, i'll be there soon. We'll find him, I-"

No. I couldn't promise something like that.

"We'll find him." I repeated once more, quickly hanging up the phone and getting in my truck.

I tried to make the journey from my house to Norma's as fast as it could possibly be, pulling up by the motel when I arrived. I had barely even placed my hand on the car door handle when I spotted Norma hurriedly running out of the office. She opened the door to the passenger seat, hopping up into the SUV.

"Yes, Norma, of course i'll chauffeur you around town-it was lovely of you to ask." I said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. Why I saw making jokes at a time like this as a good idea, I have no clue.

She shot me a glare, one of her classics. She looked neither offended or amused, which was a good. Just done with my shit, probably. "Just drive."

I simply nodded, starting up the truck once again and backing up out of the motel. "Where exactly am I driving to?"

"Well I don't know, do I? Anywhere, everywhere..." She shrugged.

"Anywhere and everywhere. Real specific-thanks Norma.

"No problem." She said with a tone that matched my sarcasm, turning away from me and folding her arms.

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" I asked, trying to get anything that out of her that could give me a clue on where we could begin our search.

"I'm pretty sure I know who he's gone with."

"Oh yeah? And who's that?" I asked, keeping my main focus on the road and glancing at her in the corner of my eye. As far as I knew, Norman didn't have any friends. Then again, I really didn't know that much.

She seemed hesitant to answer, which I at first found quite confusing. And then she abruptly came out with it, and I understood why she might be so hesitant to tell me.

"Bradley Martin."

"Sorry, what?" I briefly looked at her in disbelief, trying to keep my focus on the road ahead of us. "Bradley Martin is dead, Norma."

"That's what we thought. Dylan told me that he and Norman helped her fake her death. He told me why...but-" She scrunched her nose up, shrugging. "I can't remember. Who cares anyway. That's not relevant. But, yup, she's not dead. We think Norman has been with her recently, and that he's running away with her. He'd never run away from me voluntarily like that...I bet you anything that Bradley bitch has talked him into it."

"Woah-wait, Norma..." I was listening to what she was saying to begin with, but then I spotted something outside. I merely saw a figure to begin with, but when the figure came closer I knew who it was.

"Hey, don't 'Norma...' me like that. I know it's harsh, but trust me, she was-and probably is...a bitch. She'd always been a bad influence on Norman."

"No. That's not what I mean. Look outside." Switching my attention from what was outside the truck back to Norma, I could see the dread slowly developing on her face. She hesitantly looked away from me and peered through the front windscreen.

Slowly walking towards the truck was Norman, looking in a complete daze.

Norma opened the passenger seat door, practically stumbling out of her seat and rushing over to Norman. I thought it best to stay in the car and let her do whatever needed to be done.

I could see her trying to talk to him, and if looked as if he was mumbling something but I had a feeling he wasn't talking back to her. It was so strange, it was like he was there physically but not mentally. Like something had taken over him. I'd heard Norma talk about Norman's condition earlier on in the night, but actually witnessing it in the flesh had me sympathizing with both of them more than I already did.

Just a few moments later, Norma was leading Norman over to the truck. She opened the back seat door, helping him inside the truck. I watched her as she silently occupied her previous seat next to me once again. "Is he-uh, is he okay?" Silly question really, but I wasn't sure what else to say.

"He will be." she stated, her voice kept to a whisper.

I nodded, getting ready to start the engine once again before I noticed something. Reaching over to Norma, I gently took a hold of her wrist. "Shit, Norma," I lifted up my other hand to switch on the light just above us, the extra light confirming clear as day what I thought I'd just saw;

Blood, all over her hands.

I could see her looking into the rear view mirror, I assume to check Norman's appearance now they were exposed to the light.

Her voice was extremely quiet; if if was humanely possible, even below a whisper. She sighed, sounding a lot more stressed than scared. "His hands are covered in blood too, some on his shirt as well..."

"Do you think-"

"Bradley?" she nodded, resting her head on the window. "If it really was her that he was with, then probably."

I removed my hand from her wrist and shook my head, not understanding how she could be so casual about this. "A girl might just have been murdered. How can you just say 'probably' like it's nothing?" I asked, mimicking her careless demeanor with the word 'probably'.

"In all honesty, Alex, this kind of thing has happened so many times now that I worry far more about Norman than the person he's hurt. It's awful, and it's selfish. But i'm a mother, and we have to put our children first. In this situation, i'm more concerned about what will happen to him than anything or anyone else. So please, you can't let this get out. He can't get blamed for this, he doesn't even know what he's doing. Please. You have to promise me." Each time she said it, she'd put an emphasis on the word please. There was sadness, desperation even in her eyes.

She was doing it again, pulling me in. It was almost as if she had me in chains, tightening her grip on them whenever it was convenient for her. Maybe Bob was right, maybe she was using me. The only person who truly knew the answer to that was her. Either way, I still wanted to help her. I had to help her.

Promise was such a strong word, but I-

"I promise."

I couldn't help it.

First Bob, now supposedly Bradley. I now had two murders to attempt to cover up, or at least to murderers to cover for-as it was highly likely that the bodies, or some form of evidence would soon be found in this small town.

Things in White Pine Bay, the already crime-ridden town, were about to get a whole lot worse.